Chapter Forty-Two
As he uttered the words which told Sharat he’d been caught in a lie, Riordan’s hand was poised near his visor. He’d almost decided upon the few orders he hoped to give before the Crewe had to fight its way out of an impossibly sophisticated and cunning trap.
But Sharat just raised an eyebrow. “How do I know what Tasvar thinks? Mindspeaking. How else?”
Of course: how else?
Sharat hadn’t finished. “I would not have invited you into sword range without his assurance that you are who you say you are.”
Which makes this claim of mindspeaking different. But . . . no: you have to leave that for later. Riordan nodded. “It takes some getting used to, the extent to which you rely on mindspeaking in these regions.”
Sharat’s other eyebrow rose briefly, but then they both descended and he shrugged. “No matter. With luck, we will have time enough to learn more of each other. But for now, be assured, this caravan is not a mere target of opportunity. It was Tirolane himself who brought word of its additional significance when he arrived. In addition to warning Suradán from ceasing his provocations in Forkus, it is a statement that the Legate will not tolerate his cooperation with the Rustics by offering coin for their humans.”
“Yet,” Newton said carefully, “they remain slaves, either way.”
“Yes,” Sharat agreed, “but the Legate’s deeper objective is to hamper or intercept efforts to diminish human stables. There is no way to stop it, but the longer it takes, the more we might be able to free. If Tirolane’s information is correct, the approaching Zhyombphal caravan is delivering two such humans to Suradán. That would be enough reason to attack, but Tirolane tells us that, in addition to having word of his friends, they possess knowledge that would enable us to free even more. Many more.”
Riordan glanced around the Crewe. He read the answer in their eyes, but was unwilling to presume their unanimous approval.
Not even when Sharat added, “And of course, your share of what we gain would be commensurate with your numbers: two thirds of our combined force.”
Actually, that was slightly more than their share. And he no longer needed to assume he was reading the Crewe’s eyes correctly; they were wide with eagerness.
But Sharat was rattled when Riordan didn’t leap at his first offer. “We cannot offer more than a three-quarter share. That will barely repay the costs and risks of mounting this operation, regardless of how strategically important it is.”
“Then let us leave that offer as it is, for now,” Riordan said with a slow nod. “I shall discuss it, and our participation in this noble mission, with my fellow leaders. We take such decisions in council. It is our way.”
Sharat nodded at Riordan’s need to consult his companions. “That is very fair. But before you decide, you should be aware of what we have heard on our journey here. After we met with our mangle healer, Ne’sar, to guide us through the Orokrosir, I wished to learn of any hunters or raiders that might already be in that wadi country. So I sent our three h’achgai hunters into Khorkrag to sell meat and buy arrowpoints . . . and to listen.”
Ulchakh nodded. “We did the same. It was . . . not welcoming to humans.”
Sharat leaned forward. “They reported that also, but heard something more worrisome. More specifically, the town’s Ormalg liege was soon to announce a general bounty on humans, but had already promised it to several established groups he encouraged to comb the Orokrosir for ‘a group of ten humans or slightly more’ who might be moving north.”
“That is much more specific,” Yidreg agreed.
Sharat shrugged. “Seeing your group, I realize it could describe either one of us. You’re a much larger party, but there are about ten humans. On the other hand, anyone who saw my force from a distance would likely assume that our four whakt are humans, based on their equipment and height alone. Of course, as Ormalg is a Rustic, it might have been his liege you aggravated in Forkus. Or word may have leaked that the Legate sent me north to cripple a caravan bringing human slaves to Suradán.” He smiled ruefully. “Or they might be after both of us.”
He rose. “I don’t want to delay your decision on joining with us for the coming ambush. Our best information suggests that they’re following the river along this bank and will pass near here either tomorrow or the day after. That won’t leave us a lot of time to prepare.”
Riordan rose as well. “Even if we do not join you, we might be able to give you a more precise estimate of their arrival.” At a glance, the Crewe rose. “We will make our decision shortly. Thank you for your candor.”
***
Since no one else at the Fireside Chat had said it, the role of devil’s advocate fell to Riordan. “Does anyone have reservations about attacking a caravan that doesn’t belong to a current enemy?”
Dora looked around the group as if she didn’t want to be the first one to speak yet again, but she shrugged and pointed out, “Boss, given how humans are treated here, I gotta say that this seems to be our fight whether we want it or not. I know it might not be the smartest move toward getting us off this planet as quickly as possible . . . but merde! The killspawn are treating all of us like cattle! Worse!”
Duncan nodded. “I agree one hundred and ten percent, but with one exception: I think this might accelerate, rather than slow, our efforts to boost up out of this sewer.”
Ayana leaned her gracefully pointed chin on her palm. “Please explain, Major.”
“Look, if there is any way off Bactradgaria, we’re not going to find it lying around in plain sight, in perfect condition, just waiting for us. It’s likely to be buried or remote, in a place that’s probably exposed to hostiles, and will need a huge amount of restoration and modification. That’s about the most optimistic scenario I can foresee. Sound about right?”
The Crewe nodded, even Yaargraukh who’d learned to ape the human motion.
“Okay, so how do just thirteen people make that happen? How do we feed ourselves? How do we take the site? Or maybe several sites? How do we stay safe while we’re busy putting our heads—and Dornaani suit computers—together to come up with a way to get to orbit?”
His eyes became both crafty and hopeful. “But if we help out on this ambush, we become not just a valuable ‘information ally’ for the Legate, but one that can make a difference on a battlefield, too. And while we do it, we’ll be showing the same thing to all our logical allies: the h’achgai, the mangled, and the trogs. Particularly the, uh, crogs, as Miles calls them.”
“The what?”
“Crogs,” O’Garran supplied, “the ones that are mostly Cro-Magnon? Like Bey?”
Duncan nodded. “If they see us dominate a battlefield, word will get around: the kind of word, and reputation, that we can parlay into formal alliances with the groups which can provide the support we need to find and build a way back to orbit.”
Ayana nodded. “It is rare and valuable when fate so clearly makes the right thing to do also the wise thing to do.” She smiled toward Bannor, who, too surprised to hide his infatuation, grinned broadly, even as she was turning toward Riordan. “I think fate is offering us such a moment.”
Riordan checked the other faces in the circle: there wasn’t even a hint of reluctance. “Very well, he said. “Then we just have two matters to settle before telling Sharat. First, we have to make sure the h’achgai and Ta’rel agree. And secondly”—Caine drew in a deep breath—“we need to invite the trogs to take an oath of fealty.
“Right now, they’re POWs. To become part of our force, we have to take their oaths—and be prepared to live up to our responsibilities as the holders of them.” He rose, gestured to the others. “We all have to be the holders of their oaths.”
Yaargraukh nodded. “Yes. If a single holder were to die, they might rightly deem the oath undone.” He stood. “If any have reservations, speak them now. Once they are your vassals, you become responsible for them in many ways.”
Eku raised his hand. “I do not know the Collective’s policy on such a matter. I cannot, in good conscience, participate.”
Riordan nodded. “I understand and agree. You remain here, Eku.” He aimed a smile up at his Hkh’Rkh friend before turning it toward the rest of the Crewe. “Let’s get this done.”
***
“This all seems a bit too easy, don’t you think?” Bannor wondered aloud as he joined Caine on the walk back from the trogs’ sleeping piles.
Ta’rel, on Riordan’s other side, leaned forward to answer. “Since meeting Peter and Craig, I have noted that, even more than your technology, it is your caution that makes you so different. You take decisions very slowly and carefully”—his smile revealed large, almost fused teeth—“even more than my people do. And we are famous for being cautious and prudent. Annoyingly so, to others.”
“That’s one of the reasons I asked you to join us when we went to take the trogs’ oaths. We want your counsel particularly now that we’ve committed our forces to the attack.”
Ta’rel seemed surprised. “Why not seek the wisdom of Ulchakh? Or Bey? They are far more knowledgeable in the ways of war.”
Bannor’s answer was the one that had been on Caine’s lips. “We have plenty of war knowledge. But you and your people seem to have more information on this, eh, region than most. And you think further ahead.”
“So,” Ta’rel said lightly, “you wish my counsel because I make decisions in the same boring ways that you do?”
Riordan chuckled. “I am quite happy to be bored now if it helps me live to complain about it later.”
Ta’rel’s laugh was very human. “Yes, that describes my people, too. But I think we come to this from different experiences.”
Ayana, who drew close to Bannor—closer than usual—asked, “What difference do you perceive, Ta’rel?”
He shrugged as they found their seats in the same circle they’d left half an hour earlier. “My people consider decisions in great detail long before they are needed because that is the best way to avoid having to make them in terrible haste later on.” Despite his less flexible face, he appeared melancholy. “We fight only when we must, for it is in the chaos of battle that our planning avails the least. Careful decision-making is the best way to keep the greatest number of our people from harm or death.
“But your people? I think you decide carefully because that is how you control events and outcomes. It is evident in all your devices, both in their power and the care with which you plan their use. Whereas we of the wastes must accept that most plans will only lessen what we must suffer, you have learned that, properly applied, your tools and skills allow you to control outcomes. Including inflicting far more injury than you receive.”
He shrugged. “It is why you feel so much fear, even at the responsibility of holding oaths of fealty. You are accustomed to having the luxury of inspecting every choice down to details that my people would never consider.”
Peter sat with a smile. “So is my friend Ta’rel chiding you about our excessive caution?”
“If it is chiding, Friend Wu, it is done in admiration.”
“Speaking of admiration,” Craig drawled, “you seem to admire Ne’sar. Quite a bit.”
Ayana may have inched away from Bannor; her cheeks darkened and her eyes lowered to focus someplace beneath the planet’s core.
“I admire Ne’sar a great deal,” the mangle said without any hint of embarrassment. “She is a healer and a person of great inner strength. As you may judge from her presence with Sharat. It is not many, male or female, who make such a daring First Journey.”
Riordan managed not to let on that, until this moment, he had not even realized that Ne’sar was a female.
Katie’s voice suggested that she sensed a cozy story lurking behind Ta’rel’s warm compliments for his “friend.” “So, how did you come to meet Ne’sar?”
“On my own First Journey two years ago—Peter calls it a ‘walkabout’—I chose to travel alone. I was foolish. ’Qo caught my scent and chased me for days. In fleeing them, I became lost. I had not eaten in some time, and was almost out of water when I discovered hidden signs used by my people’s traders. I followed them to their camp, and from there, was brought to Ebrekka, our greatest community on this continent. I was introduced to its durus’maan Raam’tu and in due course, his eldest daughter Ne’sar. I think it likely that she will rise to take his place, one day.”
Katie’s voice had the faintest undercurrent of salacious curiosity. “So, Ne’sar’s connected to an important family, is she?”
Ta’rel tilted his head. “We do not measure importance as do other peoples. The durus’maan, which means ‘senior worrier,’ is not so much a chief as a clever person and clear thinker. He or she has no more property or rights than anyone else. But they are revered and whereas everyone’s words are listened to once, the durus’maan’s words are listened to thrice.”
Riordan leaned forward. “We also prize wise words, which is one of the reasons we’ve wanted you at all the meetings tonight. Because we think you are the only person who can answer this question: if Ne’sar felt that Sharat was exaggerating the danger to us or the general attitude toward humans in Khorkrag, would she tell us?”
Ta’rel shrugged. “Yes, but more to the point, she would not have sat idly by if his representation of either had been different from her own perception of them. She would have asked to make comment, or, if she deemed it too sensitive to do in a group meeting, she would have absented herself. This is our honor code.”
Miles sighed. “Makes me wonder if we need to change our destination again, as nice as Ebrekka sounds.”
Ta’rel nodded . . . regretfully, Caine thought. “If there are trog bands already searching through the Orokrosir, it is quite possible we would encounter them before reaching Ebrekka. She knows how to reach it by special paths, but those ways are not concealed: simply distant from the most common locations of water or prey.”
Which gets to my second concern. “So would you agree with Chief O’Garran, that perhaps we need to shift our destination back to Achgabab?”
“It is certainly worth considering,” Ta’rel agreed.
Riordan felt his lips straighten: that wasn’t the clear recommendation he’d been looking for. “If you now have concerns about the hazards of traveling to Ebrekka, why do you not recommend against it?”
Ta’rel shrugged. “I might yet do so, but not until we have spoken to any captives that might be taken from the caravan. Although they have come far from Fragkork, some may be privy to mindspoken instructions or information passed between the x’qao commander and his liege. That may tell us how best to avoid both the groups from Khorkrag. Also, they may know whether we have been pursued from Forkus and if so, where those forces mean to intercept us.”
“No matter where one is,” Newton opined darkly, “the wastes are not a good place for travelers.”
“No,” Miles quipped, “but they seem to be a good place to get eaten!”
Ta’rel smiled ruefully, but glanced at Caine. “Do you have other questions for me, Caine Riordan?”
“No, Ta’rel, and thank you for helping us.”
The mangle stood. “Certainly. Please excuse me, now. Ne’sar asked if I might share a reunion meal with her. She is waiting.”
“Of course,” Caine assured Ta’rel with a smile.
When he was gone, Bannor sighed. “If you don’t like the plans on Bactradgaria, just wait a minute: they’ll change. Again.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” O’Garran agreed as he looked around the group. “Where’s Eku?”
Caine nodded toward their sleeping cluster. “Grabbing some kip. The crossing was hard on his arm.”
Newton nodded. “Yes. The pain exhausts him.”
“Convenient, too,” Dora murmured. “Look: we’re talking about fighting tomorrow or the day after. But if Eku’s arm is still so weak, so fragile—?”
Riordan held up a hand. “He won’t be on the line. As it is, we’re going to need someone running comms, particularly sensor relays. So he’s going to be with Sharat back near what they call the ‘real rad’: the one with the internal combustion engine. That’s going to the combination CP and OP for the operation, as well as a fast relocation platform.”
“Is that just a fancy way of saying a ‘bug-out bus’?” Miles drawled.
“Or fire brigade, or mobile weapon, platform or a bunch of other things, Chief O’Garran. So no, it’s not a euphemism for a hot exfil option, although that’s part of the job description. And that’s where we’re keeping Eku. Who, oddly enough, claims to have reasonable skill with a sword.” Riordan held up a hand against the disbelieving stares. “Apparently, one of his times on Earth, he had to fit in as a proper gentleman of the period. So he learned to fence with a sword called a ‘hanger’: a short, cutting blade.”
Newton shook his head. “The Dornaani factotum’s break will not withstand the impact of striking targets, let alone parrying heavier weapons.”
“He means to use it in his left hand, if he must. He was trained to use it along with a main gauche for parrying. So just give him the shortsword with the longest quillons. But frankly, if he’s in a position where he’d actually have to use it, we’ll have a lot bigger problems to worry about than his broken arm. Duncan, do you have Eku’s assessments on our suits?”
Solsohn cleared his throat. “Sir, Eku’s own suit is still intact, but its processing systems are a total write-off. The first set of trogs banged him around so much that they broke relays and the data weave of the smart materials, including its reactive hardening system. It still has pressure integrity, but no control interfaces that work with a HUD. So everything would need to be adjusted or run manually.
“Now here’s the part no one is going to like, including me. He’s run a close diagnostic on all our suits on the march north. The good news is that all the systems are still functioning.”
Peter sighed. “And the bad news?”
Duncan shrugged. “Wherever they stopped a blow from a sword or an axe, there are ruptures in the smart fabrics. He calls these ‘de-meshings” and if we keep taking those kinds of hits, they’re going to lose pressure integrity, sooner rather than later. And we have to be extra careful with the Terran suits because they’re just not as tough.”
Katie scowled. “So what’re ye sayin’ then, Duncan? That we’re to attack this caravan in the nude?” Miles and Dora nodded vigorous support of her question.
“No, I’m saying that if we don’t set some suits aside—and right now—we might not have any EVA capacity left by the time we get to orbit. And without it, we can’t get aboard the damned ship.”
As the Crewe was absorbing that, Riordan added, “That’s only part of it. The suits, particularly the Dornaani ones, have been responsible for almost all our advantages in every combat. Think it’s the hand cannon? Think again: How many hits would it have scored—and at the ranges and in the conditions it was used—without the smart interface of the HUDs? Now take a moment thinking of all the other ways they’ve been absolutely crucial: early warning in day or night, remote relay of visuals, sensor assessments of damn near everything. It’s a very long list and you don’t need me to recite it because you’ve used them all countless times. And you’re probably alive because of one or more of them.”
“Can’t save our lives if we’re not wearing them,” Dora groused.
“Actually, they can and they will, as long as enough are functioning. But if they’re being worn on the front line, they won’t. Not for long.”
“So what do we do when the caravan gets here?” Miles asked.
“We do what we’ve done every time so far: we wear the suits and try to keep from getting hit. But after this engagement, we’ve got to find the best local armor we can and stay out of melee range whenever possible. And if you’re one of the combat controllers, fire directors, or sensor operators—because that’s who’ll be wearing the Dornaani suits—then you shouldn’t even be in bow range, if you can help it. Any questions?”
After a few uneasy looks made their way around the Crewe, O’Garran sighed and asked, “Sir: mindspeaking? Really?”
Riordan shook his head. “I can’t believe it either, Chief . . . but—”
—But we can’t get into that: not now, not here. Because the longer we’ve been on this insane planet, the more it seems there must be something to it. Tasvar trusted Yasla’s “mystic” approval of us. Sharat and Tirolane, who are as skeptical as any soldiers I’ve known, put as much faith in it as they do in their swords or guns. A brief bit of mindspeaking with someone at Tasvar’s fortress and we’re fully trusted. And all done in the few minutes between our arrival at camp and Sharat’s overview of the local situation—
As Riordan let those thoughts flit past, he nodded, swallowed, and croaked, “Right now, we have to follow Tasvar’s advice and not dismiss the possibility of it.”
Ayana answered her nod with one of her own. “It is often postulated that there remain forces which science has not discovered or does not recognize as such.”
“Yet,” Newton added.
Riordan waved away the debate. “We can’t settle this now. And what’s more important: we don’t need to. What we do need is to be up and moving before first light; we can’t tell how much time we’ll have to plan. So set the watches and get some sleep.”