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Chapter Twelve

Bannor Rulaine and Duncan Solsohn both stared, arms akimbo, at the mechanism that had once recharged Hsontlosh’s personal proxrov assistant, and finally, enforcer. “Think this crazy setup will actually work?” Bannor muttered.

Duncan looked at the two solar cells hooked to it. He shrugged. “We won’t know if we don’t try.”

Bannor stared at the juncture between the battery that powered the anthrobot’s coil gun and the charging grid they’d extracted from its storage booth. “There’s no way to be sure that what recharged the proxrov will recharge its gun.”

Duncan scratched his chin. “I’m not worried about that so much. We know the grid was built to recharge the battery that was in the proxrov. And we know that, in a pinch, the proxrov itself was able to power the coil gun. And although a direct hookup between the grid and the gun’s battery wasn’t part of the design, the leads did adapt to each other immediately.”

Bannor nodded his head cautiously. Over time, he’d become the voice of caution and skepticism that tempered Duncan’s innate enthusiasm and optimism. But this time, Rulaine wondered if maybe he was being too pessimistic. Despite the staggering diversity of devices and designs that the Dornaani had freely developed and retained over millennia, the Collective had mandated at least one universal technological requirement: that every lead for both control and power conduits had to be able to detect and adapt to all others.

Frankly, it was an amazing accomplishment, even for the Dornaani. But it was also the kind of thing that was far too subtle and far too dull to ever attract the kind of attention and inspire the kind of wonder that their other, flashier achievements elicited.

And, Bannor allowed, he was also dragging his heels because of how much was at stake. The solar panels did charge the gun’s battery, but there was only one point of attachment for them, and they were extremely inefficient in both time and energy loss. The grid, on the other hand, was built to both relay and store charges from multiple sources. So instead of hooking the gun’s battery up to a single solar cell, all the Crewe’s cells could be lined up to charge the grid, which could then pass the power to the gun’s battery in a few minutes. And if the group was able to top up that hand cannon’s battery every day, well . . . God help anyone who tried cases with them.

Bannor set his jaw. “Turn it on.”

Duncan complied. Lights on the battery and the frame started winking and flashing . . . and then all of them glowed a harmonious aqua.

“Well, waddya know?” Duncan drawled, before his face grew somber. “Sucks not having Eku.”

“On so many levels,” Bannor agreed. Technical expertise aside, the factotum had become a member of the Crewe, of its family. A frequently annoying family member, to be sure, but family is family.

Duncan nodded, glanced sideways at Rulaine. “Fourth time he broke squelch in the second half of the hour.”

As if I didn’t notice that? “Not a good sign,” Bannor murmured.

“Working on our understatement muscles today, I see.”

Rulaine couldn’t suppress a rueful smile. “Okay, get it off your chest.”

“Do I really have to?” Solsohn sighed. “Four days. Four squelch breaks. Always in the latter, ‘negative sitrep’ half of his signaling period, but never at the same minute.” He shrugged. “The only constant to his message is that he’s in some kind of trouble.”

Bannor didn’t disagree but as much for himself as Duncan, he played the devil’s advocate. “Okay, it looks bad, but then why not send at the same minute, relay a consistent code?”

“Because maybe he can’t. Look: as of last night, two of our pairs have reported ‘encountering’ locals. And Peter and Craig used the code for ‘locals contacted.’”

Bannor glanced at him. “Oh, judging from their codes, I’d say Miles and Katie ‘made contact’ as well.”

“Hah hah. As my grandad would have said, that’s comedy gold, right there. Seriously, I’m sure there will be plenty more ‘kinetic’ contact. But Peter and Craig—they struck real gold.”

Bannor nodded. “I don’t disagree. As you know. But how does this connect to Eku?”

“Well, what if he’s not sending the same code because he can’t? If he’s either being observed or held prisoner, he’d have limited freedom of action, would have to signal whenever he could. Doing so in the thirty-minute ‘distress’ window might be the most control he has.”

Rulaine knew what was coming, but asked anyway. “So what do you propose we do?”

“Break protocol to contact Eku, Colonel.” Duncan continued before Bannor could reply. “We’ve only been dirtside four days and we’ve already answered most of the big questions. There’s breathable air. Potable water. There’s flora and fauna. And given the local sapients, I’m gonna bet there’s food we can eat, too. But now one of us is almost certainly signaling distress.”

He stared at Bannor. “The only reason we’re not in contact with him right now is because we’re worried that our signals could be intercepted. Except it turns out there are no more radio transmissions down than there were in orbit. The air is dead except for us and sferics.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t something listening for signals. Or something that will wake up if we send one.”

Duncan nodded. “I can’t and won’t argue against that. What Ayana said about how Ktoran ‘Death Fathers’ might set traps, automatic listening stations: that stuff is scary enough to make my eyeballs sweat.” He extended an open hand: an appeal to reason. “But we’re never going to know, are we? The only difference between proving something exists versus proving it doesn’t is that, if you try poking it and it does exist, it will come at you. And then you know. But if you don’t poke at it, then you’ll never know if it’s actually out there. You’ll just live in fear of it. Forever.”

“And you’re willing to pay the price of finding out?”

“To get in contact with Eku and find out how best to help him? You bet I am.” Solsohn paused. “And from the look on your face, I think you’re willing to take that risk, too. At least this one time.”

Bannor felt his stomach knotting. He’d been one of the strongest advocates of the squelch-only signals protocol. But perhaps, just this once—

His comms pager didn’t just ping; it issued a priority alert. An incoming voice comm . . . from Eku.

Well, Rulaine thought as he opened the channel, that settles that. “Eku, what is your—?”

“I must be swift, Colonel,” the factotum interrupted breathlessly as the rest of the Crewe’s active comms icons lit up Bannor’s helmet like a Christmas tree. “I have little time. I landed badly. I cannot move my arm. I was taken captive two days ago by humanoids that seem related to humans. They have not harmed me, but I suspect that is because they think I am valuable. We are moving south. I am free now but cannot outrun them. I fear that—”

Shouting by harsh voices speaking a harsh language. An impact—either with the ground or from a weapon—cut through the bedlam. Eku cried out—

Silence. The circuit had either closed or the helmet radio had been broken.

“Resume comms protocol,” Rulaine heard himself say; his voice was hollow. The rest of the Crewe’s comm activity icons blinked off, but not all at once.

“Now what?” Duncan muttered.

Rulaine sealed his visor, used the HUD to sweep the horizon. Nothing visible. “Well, since there is no imminent contact and we’ve already got a protocol break, we might as well make use of it.”

“You’re sending to Riorda—the commodore?”

Bannor nodded. “Over the alternate freekset. Caine will want to—” The command channel pinged. Well, speak of the devil. Bannor opened the circuit. “Beat me to it. You heard the whole send?”

“I did,” Riordan confirmed. “First, how are you two?”

“In good shape. Grid recharge works for the coil gun. We’ll be moving toward Newton within the hour. Unless . . . ”

“Yes?”

“Unless you’ve got different orders.” When Caine didn’t reply, Rulaine added, “To rescue Eku, CO.”

***

Caine leaned his forehead against his hand. He wanted to shout “yes!” but the sheer impulsivity of that urge told him what his answer had to be. “No, XO; we stick to the plan.”

He heard Rulaine’s sharp intake of breath, interrupted before his friend could argue. “We can’t reconfigure without extensive coordination. That means extensive transmissions. Maybe there’s nothing out there listening. Or maybe we just got lucky this time . . . assuming we did.” Guess we’ll know that soon enough. “Moreover, we are in no shape to mount a rescue operation. We’re still scattered to hell and gone. It would take weeks—and for most of us, a lot of backtracking—to collapse on Eku’s current position. Assuming we could get over the river.”

“So . . . no change in protocols.” Rulaine sounded gut-shot.

“No change to comm protocols, no. But I’m changing contact protocols. If we’re going to find a way to get to Eku, and get some advance intel on the region, and who or what might be holding him, locals are our only option. Given the contacts of the last thirty hours, the odds are a lot better that the city at the river fork is inhabited. Keeping that as our rendezvous is likely the fastest path to saving Eku, too.”

“Roger all, sir.” Bannor’s voice had regained most of its calm buoyancy. “Shall I spread the word? Prerecord, compress and fast-squeak?”

“Smallest comm footprint, so yes. Riordan out.”

Yaargraukh’s pupilless black eyes were fixed on his face. “That was a difficult decision.”

Riordan nodded. “Made similar ones in Indonesia. Never got used to them.”

“One never does. But in this case, your hand held two fates, not one.” When Caine looked questioningly at him, the Hkh’Rkh explained, “Saving the factotum and securing justice for your mate Elena. I am aware that without Eku, it is unlikely that any evidence left by Hsontlosh, either of his personal crimes or those of the conspiracy he was abetting, can be accessed, let alone decoded.”

Well, that news certainly made the rounds quickly. “And we don’t even dare to open his emergency bag,” Riordan added, nodding toward its perch atop the rest of Yaargraukh’s various packs and sacks.

“It would certainly be imprudent.”

Riordan waited for Yaargraukh’s tongue to flick out, signifying humorous irony. But the Hkh’Rkh only began unpacking his dinner.

Caine put aside his own rations. “We need to talk.”

The black eyes rotated toward him. “We do?”

“Yes. Since the mis-shift, you’ve avoided all but essential contact or conversation with others. Do you need us to change the way we interact with you?”

The Hkh’Rkh’s pony neck shook slightly. “The problem is not in you; it is in me.”

Riordan frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“That is because you do not see the burden.”

More confused than ever, Riordan glanced at the pile of packs again. “Don’t see it? I repeatedly asked you reduce it, but you—”

“Commodore, you misperceive. I am not speaking of the physical burden—it is well within my carrying limits—but of being a burden to the group. It is a source of . . . profound shame.”

Riordan was not sure whether or not he blinked in surprise. “You’re a burden to us? How?”

The Hkh’Rkh emitted a phlegmy rattle through his nose. “Caine Riordan, a Hkh’Rkh can endure ten times the radiation a human can. And yet I was the only one who could not take on my fair share of the EVA operations, despite having better skills than anyone other than Ms. Tagawa. And perhaps Chief O’Garran.”

Riordan hardly knew how to respond. “B-but, without a vacc suit, how could you perform an EVA?”

“Exactly. And it was that same lack which necessitated humans to both fashion and secure me within a makeshift pressure cocoon on the descent frame. I was not even able to assist Ms. Tagawa with the astrogation calculations because these”—he held up his quadrilaterally arranged hands—“cannot operate human computers. Or Dornaani. And when it came to their tools, I was once again unable to use them, since they seem to be designed for thin-boned avians.”

Yaargraukh rose abruptly, stalked around the periphery of their camp as if he meant to outrun himself. Then he stopped and turned back toward his friend. “Caine Riordan, in all the years since my whelping, I have never been so constantly and completely shamed. At present, we Hkh’Rkh do not have the science or technology of other races, nor the art, nor the philosophy. Our one clear advantage is this”—he gestured angrily at his body—“our ability to absorb damage, to survive in many temperatures and atmospheres, to bear heavy loads, to strike mighty blows, and to persevere in the face of all adversity.” His conclusion was a self-deprecatory snort punctuated by a gobbet of far-flying phlegm: “My ancestors would turn their faces from me.”

Caine considered. “Far be it from me to criticize anyone else’s family . . . but I thought the Greatsires also encouraged shrewdness.”

Yaargraukh turned. “I do not see the connection between that and my current failures.”

“Well, don’t they teach that shrewdness is what tempers reckless courage? Ensures that Warriors do not simply run headlong at every foe to prove themselves?”

The Hkh’Rkh’s eyestalks extended slightly. “Yes, but—”

“But that’s the direct parallel to this situation. Yes, you were physically unable to help prepare for planetfall, but once here, the situation reversed. Now it is we who must count upon you. If our suits fail or our tools are lost or taken, you would be the one to thrive, and help us survive, on this planet.” Riordan paused to give his conclusion more weight. “I am sure that your ancestors would also agree that a shrewd Warrior realizes that patience, even acceptance, may sometimes be essential to achieve final victory. So it was in space, for you.”

The Hkh’Rkh stared at Riordan for what seemed like a very long time. “Have you read the Axioms of the Ghostsires, the core wisdom of the Patrijuridicate?” Caine shook his head. “Well, I suspect you do not need to. You all but quoted several passages from it.” He raised his neck so he could peer over the low ridge behind which they were sheltering; during the day’s travels, the land had become more varied in its topography. He maintained his focus on the horizon for several seconds. He looked away with a low interjection:“Yrrgrrm.” Evidently, it was the Hkh’Rkh equivalent of “hmmm.”

“We’re still being followed?” Riordan asked.

Yaargraukh bobbed his neck. “I could probably discern what they are—for there is more than one—if I was able to use a human HUD. You would probably do the same if you’d been raised a hunter and knew what to look for.”

Caine smiled. “I think you just proved the point I was making.”

Yaargraukh turned. “Commodore, to use the phrasing of your armed services, do I have your permission to speak freely?”

Riordan nodded.

“I find it baffling that at the moments when you are most annoying, you also prove to be most agreeable.”

Caine laughed.

Yaargraukh’s black-worm tongue wiggled out momentarily before he straightened. “Commodore, I wish to suggest I stand both watches tonight.”

“Why?”

The Hkh’Rkh nodded at Riordan’s pack. “Although you have already demonstrated reasonable facility with the Dornaani translator, it may prove wise to hone your skills tonight. I suspect we will have need of them tomorrow.”


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