M'tak Ka'fek (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (33 page)

“Vaguely. They were supposed to be a group of Triads who defended their planet.”

“Precisely, Billy Ray,” said Ludmilla, using his given name to draw him into the secret mission on a more personal level. “The Ambassador is offering to speak on our behalf back home, but we need a way to get them there.”

“Right,” said Gretchen, expanding on Ludmilla's statement. “It makes sense to send the Peggy Sue, after all the Triads have been visited by her before. Who knows how they would respond to one of the new frigates. And arguably, sending the Peggy Sue has the least impact on our defensive capabilities, since she is not as heavily armed as a frigate.

“As for commanding the mission, you know the Peggy Sue as well as anyone alive. You are also one of the few officers who has piloted a ship to other star systems. You know the ship, you know the system and you know the Ambassador—you are the perfect choice, the only choice to command this mission.”

Billy Ray still looked a bit dazed by the turn of events. He thought of Beth, and how he would explain his sudden departure and lengthy absence to her.

“For crew we can give you one of the junior helmsmen from the last voyage, Dr. Piscopia as science officer, and a few other seasoned crew as well. And the Chief, of course—there is no chance of the Peggy Sue sailing without Chief Zackly,” Ludmilla smiled.

“So precisely what are my orders?”

“You are to try and convince the Triads to lend us aid in defeating our attackers. What form that aid might take remains to be seen. This is why we need an officer who has been out there before, who has dealt with aliens and won't be overwhelmed by the whole experience.”

“Aye aye, Ma'am. I guess I should see to my ship and crew if the Peggy Sue is to sail tomorrow morning.”

“You have time, Commander. It will take Dr. Scott Hamilton all night to get the Ambassador installed on the ship.”

“Melissa got her Doctorate?”

“Yes, she defended while you were dirtside helping the Republic of Texas. She will be on the voyage also, since she is our Triad expert.”

“Congratulations, Commander,” Gretchen stood and offered her hand. “As her former captain I wish you good luck and God speed.”

“Yes, Billy Ray, good luck,” said Ludmilla, shaking his hand in turn, “and do not worry, you will have time to say good bye to Lt. Melaku tonight. She is cleared to know of your mission, but otherwise this is a classified matter.”

As he left the CO's office he thought:
well, I've always dreamed of my own star ship—now all I have to do is tell my new girlfriend that I'm going away for a couple of months, commanding a ship named after my last girlfriend.
Dinner was going to be interesting, to say the least. 

Rogue Planet, Interstellar Space

In the interstellar void between Beta Comae and a red dwarf known to humans as Ross 1015, a dark world five times as massive as Jupiter followed its own lonely path around the Galaxy. A dark imitation of a stellar system, the rogue planet possessed its own brood of orbiting satellites. Half a dozen of the largest moons were inhabited by creatures unfamiliar to human kind. Unfamiliar but not unknown—they were the Dark Lords, self nominated rulers of the galaxy's cold life. 

A functionary of moderate influence had been summoned by one of the elders. Resembling a strange mixture of plant and animal, the Dark Lords were related to neither. Their kind had evolved on a different path from the life that inhabits worlds warmed by bright burning stars. They were an ancient race and with their slow metabolisms an elder could live for millions of years. The elder in question had already risen to a position of importance before the war with the accursed T'aafhal raged, more than four million years ago.

He of moderate influence shuffled forward on a multitude of bristle like legs, attempting politely to attract his superior's attention. Elder Dark Lords tended to spend most of their time lost in meditation, pondering thoughts unknown.

“Your pardon, Significant One. I come in response to your summons.”

“Report. How go the efforts to cleanse the Universe of this latest infestation of warm life?”

“Significant One, a ship from the client race known as the People was dispatched. It struck the vermin's world but did not succeed in exterminating them. The probe recordings showed they fought valiantly but were overwhelmed by the system's inhabitants.”

“Remind me to have the planet of these People purged when this is over. What further actions have you taken.”

“A reconnaissance mission using a more technically advanced client race was launched to survey the system. I expect their return shortly. Then I plan to launch a simultaneous attack by three of the more capable client races—the warm life scum will be destroyed by massive force.”

“Good. The effort will no doubt cull some of the client fleets as well. It is never a good idea to let them grow too powerful. You say these new vermin are most formidable?”

“They have left a trail of destruction across their local stellar neighborhood, destroying or defeating three client races, though none were very advanced.”

“Hmmmm,” the Elder's speech membranes buzzed in contemplation. “Bring forth a ship from the ancient fleet, a battle cruiser. I will attend this race's extinction myself.”

“As you command, Significant One.”

The functionary could see that the conversation was ended and the elder had returned to his meditations. As he shuffled from the audience chamber thoughts came unbidden:
The Significant One must think these vermin are dangerous, indeed. No Dark Lord warship has ventured forth into the warm realms in nearly a million years. And a cleansing under the direct supervision of a Dark Lord is almost unheard of. A pity the vermin will never appreciate the honor bestowed upon them.
 

Chapter 20

Ring Station

“Captain, we are approaching the entrance to the dock as instructed,” called Lt. McKennitt from the flight deck of the shuttle. Making contact with the station Trader took nearly a week, and arranging to land a party on the station another. Eventually a rough understanding was reached and the Earthlings, along with their untrustworthy partners, boarded the larger of the two Earth built shuttles to make the short passage from the M'tak Ka'fek to the gigantic spinning ring.

“Very good, Lieutenant,” Jack replied. “Slow and steady, and keep an eye peeled for a trap.” 

“Aye, Sir. Slow and steady it is.” The shuttle edged up to what appeared to be a vertical wall eight kilometers high.

“Will you look at that,” said JT from the copilot's seat, impressed in spite of himself. From a distance, the rim of the station looked thin compared with its width. Up close things looked different. “I suppose we are headed for that small rectangle?” 

 A third of the way up from its rounded bottom edge the mostly featureless expanse of wall contained an opening. As the shuttle drew nearer it became clear that the opening was not small, merely dwarfed by the scale of the station. A hundred meters wide by eighty tall, the entrance was uncovered and open to space.

“Right you are, Lt. Taylor.” Sandy's voice remained chipper and upbeat. Only her eyes, constantly darting from the instrument display to the scene out the windscreen, gave any indication of the pilot's heightened level of concentration. Despite appearances, the shuttle was not simply approaching a stationary wall in space. It was moving sideways on a curving course at 12 kilometers a second.

“OK, the not so small opening,” JT corrected himself. “The scale of this place takes some getting used to.” 

Within, the landing bay narrowed by steps, creating the look of a stairwell ascending into the distance. As the shuttle entered, alarm indicators lit up on the instrument panel. 

“Captain, Flight Deck. We seem have passed through a force-field of some kind.”

“Is it strong enough to threaten the shuttle?”

“No Sir. Wouldn't have know it was there without the instruments... stone the bloody crows, there's another one.”

“Look, Sandy, there's air pressure outside the ship.”

Glancing down at the instruments Sandy concurred. “Right you are, Lieutenant. There's a third force-field and look, the pressure jumped slightly.”

“Yeah, this must be how they keep their atmo from leaking out the open landing bay. Not as neat as the M'tak's selectively permeable hull, but still pretty cool.” The more barriers they passed the higher the air pressure rose outside the shuttle.

“Captain, looks like we are all right. Just the station's version of an airlock.” 

A kilometer and a half inside the rim they pierced the airlock's final force-field. Ahead lay a large landing area, at the edge of which stood a crowd of Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra—the station Trader and his retinue. Viewing the scene on their helmet displays the members of the expedition got their first look at their new clients. Perhaps forty cinnamon furred creatures were present, resplendent in silken sashes and jeweled belts. 

Standing half a hand taller than those around him, the Trader was the largest Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra the Earthlings had seen, a somewhat portly example of his race. Indeed, compared with the traders who accompanied them, all of the locals had a distinctly well fed appearance.

“And don't they look particularly toothsome?” Bear asked innocently.

Shaking his head, the Captain briefed the landing party. “We need to make a show of force, which is why we've brought almost everyone to the station. When the rear ramp lowers Hitch and Jacobs will assume guard positions to either side. Then I want the Marines to come thundering down the ramp and form an honor guard next to the starboard side personnel ramp.” 

 The Marines and crew were all in heavy space armor. The rest, including the Captain, wore standard armor. Jack continued. “The SEALs will disembark via the side personnel ramp, followed by myself, the three traders, and finally Dr. Ogawa and Corpsman White. Understood?” 

“Aye aye, Sir!”

The shuttle rotated, landing with its starboard side to the crowd of natives. As it did, JT climbed into his armor and went aft to take his place next to Bear at the head of the Marines. 

“Ready to go, brother Bear?”

“I was born ready, JT,” Bear replied with a toothy grin. “It's hard to believe we are about to do this.”

“As H. L. Mencken, the Sage of Baltimore, once said: 'Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.'”

“Now yer talking, brother,” said Bear with a gleam in his eye.

The rear ramp lowered and the two crewmen, Hitch and Jacobs, descended to the deck. The Marines, led by Bear and JT, trotted down the ramp, around the side of the shuttle and formed up between it and the watching locals. 

With an electric motor whine the side personnel ramp extended and lowered to the deck. Down it ran the three SEALS, followed by the Captain at a more dignified pace. Behind Jack, came the three traders, blinking and looking about nervously. Bringing up the rear came Betty White and Mizuki Ogawa, both holding their weapons across their chests, ready for instant use.

“Try to look fierce, Dr. Ogawa, we are all supposed to be warriors,” Corpsman White said to her partner on suit-to-suit.

“I've always wanted to be a fighting astrophysicist,” Mizuki answered with a shy grin, invisible inside her armored suit.

“Yeah. I guess I get to shoot 'em first and then patch 'em back up,” the Navy medic chuckled.

Flanked by the SEALs and trailed by the three merchants, Jack strode to within five meters of the station Trader and stopped. Earlier Jack had noticed that Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra wore three gold rings in his left ear, while Poonta-ta-ka wore only one and lowly Feeshkar's ears were unadorned. The plump trader before him had no less than seven golden rings dangling from his left ear, evidently symbols of status or rank. Raising his right hand, palm outward like John Wayne greeting a tribe of Indians in an old Hollywood movie, he spoke.

“Greetings Trader, I understand you are interested in exchanging antimatter for some help with your neighbors.”

The station Trader's large fluffy tail described a series of small circles in the air above his head as the merchant made a slight bow in the Captain's direction. “Welcome most fearsome of warrior captains, I do believe we have matters of trade to discuss...”

Cuyo, Argentina

The shuttle came in over the snow capped peaks of the Andes, dropping down into the Cuyo region of what was once Argentina. Cuyo is the name of the wine-producing, mountainous area of west-central Argentina. Historically it comprised the provinces of San Juan, San Luis and Mendoza. Mendoza, located in the eastern foothills of the Andes, has some of the highest altitude vineyards in the world with an average elevation of 600 to 1,100 meters above sea level.

Unlike the low flat pampas and littoral regions of Argentina, Cuyo was mostly untouched by the tsunami created by the alien bombardment. Ash and falling ejectamenta did wreak havoc on the area, however, and of the region's nearly three million inhabitants fewer than a quarter million survived. It was in a valley well outside of Mendoza city that the members of Occupy Moon Base were deposited. 

“All right, this is your stop,” the pilot announced from the flight deck. “All ashore.”

Each of the convicts was dressed in a tan jumpsuit, made from significantly heavier material than the daily wear provided on the Moon base. Each was also shod in durable boots and given a knife, a canteen full of water and a small backpack containing a silver space blanket and a week's worth of ration bars.

It had been almost three weeks since the riot in the Atrium. Ludmilla was first and foremost a medical doctor and would not agree to the deportation until she was sure that those injured during the insurrection were healed enough to face nature unaided.

“You can't just dump us here,” pleaded the woman named Silvia.

“You should have thought about that before you started chucking firebombs around the Atrium,” replied one of the unsympathetic Marine guards. “Now move yer ass.”