Starshot Page 6

“Why?”

  “I love the stars, Kaishi, and so do most of the Lunare. We like your jungle, and we like these sandy plains.” Viera takes a long breath, savoring the air. “Visiting is nice. Trading is better. But why stop there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re coming, Kaishi, and we’re going to take everything you and your people have.”

  12 The Birthing Pools

  Sax sets himself up atop the landing and waits for targets. There’s no cover up here, but Sax has options. Moments later, the first scrambling Sevora - Flaum and Whelks, because both Sevora and the Vincere value prodigious breeders - come into view. Some of them pause at the sight of Sax, two are brave enough to reach for weapons.

  Sax leaps. Presses his legs against the landing and launches himself straight up. Gravity is light enough that he doesn’t simply fall back down, but floats. This, with the Stim, gives him plenty of time to aim. To roast, with red and yellow blasts of energy from his miner, the two initial threats and, quickly enough, more. They burst into burning confetti, superheated by Sax’s miners, and soon enough the Sevora rethink their withdrawal.

  They scatter back into the tube forest as Sax returns to the ground. He doesn’t think there’s another way out of this section, so they’ll be back, but the soft bang behind him means Sax won’t be here to greet them.

  Which makes them the lucky ones.

  Sax feels a touch on his tail. Familiar. Bas’s way of saying ‘let’s go’. Sax keeps his eyes backward, looking towards their shuttle and any further Sevora attacks while Bas, keeping her tail on his, guides the Oratus through the hole they’ve cut in the gateway. Only when he’s ducked through does Sax turn and look at the section they’ve entered.

  If the last one held the tubes growing the species, this one holds their next stop. It’s composed of wide purple-black pools. Each one as large or more than the shuttle Sax and the others came in on. The pools aren’t quiet either; they burble and churn with movement beneath the surface.

  Gar doesn’t wait. He lifts his cutter, aims it towards the nearest pool, and fires. The pool itself heats up, begins to boil with the amount of energy pouring into it. There’s a big reason this is a bad idea: the cutters are their best way through the gateways, and there’s at least two more before the seed ship’s center. Wasting energy on immature Sevora that’ll die anyway if the mission succeeds is stupid.

  But Sax waits a few moments before ordering Gar to stop. He knows how satisfying this is. He wants to do it himself, but Bas still has his cutter.

  “When the ship falls, you’ll get them all,” Sax says as the cutter’s light dies out.

  “This is more fun,” Gar replies, and they all hiss in knowing agreement.

  The pools are criss-crossed by catwalks. Railed bridges spotted with feeding stations and consoles showing temperature and concentrations of minerals Sax neither knows nor cares about. They walk on by, occasionally swiping with claw or tail to break things to pieces.

  Pointless, nourishing destruction.

  13 A Desperate Strike

  I twist and turn the rest of the night after Viera’s warning. The Lunare are coming? With the Charre pressing from the other side, my tribe wouldn’t last long. Neither would any of the Solare.

  Unless you find an ally.

  Ignos makes a good point. If we pressed ourselves into the service of one side or the other, we might survive. It would mean giving up our independence, but I’m not so naive that I believe we’re keeping that anyway.

  Why are you here, Kaishi?

  The question comes with a hint of more. Ignos does this from time to time; makes asks designed to lead me to other conclusions. I don’t mind it much, but here in the early morning, tired, with my god beginning to brighten the Eastern sky, I’m not that patient and go with the obvious answer:

  I’m here because the Charre came and stole me away from my family and my home.

  No, you’re here because you have an opportunity.

  If Ignos had been my mother, or another village elder, I would have laughed. Pushed the suggestion away. But there’s only so much defiance one can have in the face of their god. So I stay quiet and wait for Ignos to continue.

  At least some of these warriors believe in you. Malo, the leader, certainly does. Together, we can turn them, Kaishi. Together, we can make them all believe in you.

  And then what? I tell them to leave my people alone? How long till they decide I’m not much use as a priestess and tear me apart?

  If they believe you are a goddess, they will not touch you.

  There’s a new word. One that at once makes clear Ignos’s plans for me and spawns a thousand questions about why, why bother with a random Solare girl when there are already people - the Charre’s Emperor, say - who hold the positions of power Ignos is clearly looking for.

  Because you found me, Kaishi.

  There are easy rebuttals to this, but I don’t have time to make them because Malo and his warriors are calling for the march to start. I scramble and put on my mosswrap. I’m about to start rolling the mat up when a warrior appears, gently pushes me away, and proceeds to take care of my gear.

  I insist that I’m capable of handling my own stuff and the warrior just laughs. Puts the mat inside a pack harness looped over his shoulders, and walks off. I follow, because nobody’s telling me what to do and I don’t want to get left behind.

  The Charre move quick in the early morning, despite sore muscles from the day before. At least, I’m guessing everyone feels the same knots and spasms as I do. Malo says we have to cover as much ground as possible before Ignos gets high and the heat makes travel difficult. I say that it’s plenty difficult already and the chief gives me a smile.

  For some reason, Malo’s look make me flush. I resolve not to let that happen anymore.

  Ignos serves as a distraction. He’s badgering me with questions and ideas. Thoughts on how to wrap the Charre around my finger. Musings on what we can do when we have their loyalty. The things we can command them to build. That’s where Ignos really gets strange, because the structures he’s describing don’t exist.

  Not that I’ve seen, anyway.

  We’re walking through a vast valley whose sandstone cliffs rise up on either side of us. In the far distance is the vague outline of the volcano. Around that, according to our village traders, begin the vast fields and meadows that make up the bulk of Charre territory. Stories whisper about how it used to be forest, but the Charre took the trees for their own ends.

  Several hours in, with Ignos getting close to straight over our heads, a call comes from the rear of our column. Malo leaves me behind and pushes through his own warriors to get a better look.

  While I can’t see over their heads, an expanding dust cloud from back the way we came makes it clear something’s heading this way.

  “They’re running fast,” Viera, appearing next to me, says. “Think it’s your tribe coming after you?”

  The question spins me for a moment. My village does have hunters. They could move fast through the jungle. I want to believe that Father has ordered an all-out attack to get me back.

  “He wouldn’t do that,” I say, dousing the shock of hope in cool logic. “Father wouldn’t risk the village for me.”

  I don’t believe it until I say the words, but it’s true. Father and Mother kept no secrets about the sacrifices of power. How they had to make decisions against their own interests if the village required it.

  What choice would be more obvious than letting their entire tribe survive by losing a single girl?

  The rest of Malo’s force goes to set up. They form a staggered line, all twenty of them, and begin to pull out their bows and arrows. Their kukri. Viera and I move over to the side, to get a clear look at what’s coming our way.

  Whomever they are, they’re moving at a full sprint. I see their bodies, obscured by dust, pounding forward with arms raised and clubs held high. Their skin makes it clear they’re not Viera’s kin, the color
s of their tattoos clear they’re not mine. This is a batch of Solare intent on their own demise.

  “Stay back here,” Malo slips to us with another warrior by his side. “We’re not risking you on a pointless fight.”

  “Pointless?” the Charre warrior says. “For you, Malo, it may be. The rest of us still need to earn our lions.”

  “Not at the cost of the priestess,” Malo fires back, and then he’s gone; returning to the line with his kukri drawn and ready.

  “Who are they?” I ask, because I can’t believe a Solare tribe would leave the jungle for a fight like this.

  “They wish revenge,” the warrior says, and I can see the slight smile on his stone face. “We took what we needed from their village days ago. At the time, it was lightly defended. Now, we know why.”

  I can imagine. Hunters often take days to pursue valuable game. A single large boar, bear, or elephant could feed a village for a long time, but if you were gone when enemies came along, you could lose everything.

  “Draw!” Malo’s command rings sharp in the clear air. As one, ten of the Charre warriors lift their bows and bend back their strings. “Aim!”

  Their angles. Why?

  Ignos is noticing that the Charre point their arrows low. To me, it’s obvious: less likely to kill your target from their direction.

  For the sacrifices. I see.

  Again the gaps in Ignos’ knowledge seem strange to me, but in the chaos of the coming fight, I can’t focus on that. Instead, I see the Charre launch their arrows. They fly towards the gritty and grizzled bodies of tribesmen which I do not recognize, but know anyway as fellow Solare.

  There’s no sound when the arrows hit except for screams. Those that dodge strikes, whether through luck or by darting to one side, make shouts of their own. Pain and fury mingling together. It’s enough to make me hold my breath.

  I realize I want the Solare to win.

  I know they won’t.

  The Charre quickly put truth to my thought. They wade forward in a line, exchanging bows for kukri - one in each hand - and, as the Solare close with their clubs and knives, begin a brutal dance. I’ve never seen a fight before, and I’m horrified by it.

  The Charre hook their enemies with the kukri and throw them to the ground, or spin the Solare so that any retaliation swings well wide of its mark. Every time a Solare hits the ground, a Charre is quick to kick away their weapon or, if the Solare refuses to give in, if they try to push themselves back up, the Charre puts the blunt end of the kukri to work.

  Malo stands out. He’s easy to track with his lion skin, and the chieftain puts himself in the center of the fray. Where the other Charre use their kukri as weapons, Malo wields his as limbs. He whirls and ducks, jabs and counters, turns a club swinging towards his head into a wild miss that leaves its owner open for a hard kick to the knees.

  As short as the fight is, the Solare have time to realize they stand no chance against Malo, and by the end he is standing alone amid a pile of surrendering bodies.

  Watch yourself.

  Ignos whips me away from the spectacle and I see a Solare, one of a few still standing, cutting towards us. He’s holding a black-glass knife, a sacrificial instrument turned into a desperate weapon, and I can see tears streaking his face as he moves. The Charre warrior guarding us shifts to plant himself in the Solare’s path, and I wait for the inevitable end.

  The crack shocks me to my core, and I feel my heart jump. I’m on the ground in an instant, hands covering my ringing ears. The Charre warrior joins me, though he’s looking back towards where the noise came from. He doesn’t see what I do. He doesn’t see the Solare now on suddenly-red ground.

  Interesting. There’s more to your world than I thought.

  I don’t know what Ignos means by that. Instead of thinking about it, I follow the Charre warrior’s eyes and look behind me. To where Viera stands, holding her gray tube, her pistol. Viera catches me looking, but this time there’s no offered nod. No quirk of a smile. She’s deadly serious, and so are the Charre warriors - Malo included - who stop tying their new captives to consider the threat.

  “Translate for me, Kaishi,” Viera says.

  She’s still holding the pistol. I didn’t see what it did, but I’ve seen the results, so I nod.

  “What you just saw can happen again. Will happen again, if I want it to. You’ll keep your hands off me, and you’ll keep your hands off her, and we’ll all make it to your city alive. Understand?”

  She’s realized you’re her only hope of survival. Clever.

  I say the words, and the Charre look to Malo for guidance. The lion warrior steps over the bodies and heads straight for Viera. There’s a look to him that says harm is coming, and Viera sees it.

  Raises the pistol.

  Malo stops.

  “Don’t,” I say, though I’m not sure who I’m saying this to. I only know that I’ve seen enough violence.

  “Priestess,” Malo speaks to me in Charre. “This Lunare is a risk. A danger. I cannot let her remain.”

  But you cannot let her leave. Viera has tied herself to you, now. And they fear her. She’ll be useful.

  “Viera,” I say. “Promise me that you won’t hurt anyone unless they come after you first.”

  “Only time I was going to use it anyway.” Viera doesn’t look at me as she says this, instead matching stares with Malo, who turns to me.

  “Then anyone she kills is your responsibility, priestess,” Malo says.

  In my mind, I feel Ignos’ warm approval.

  14 Separation

  At the back end of the section, a shorter walk than the first but still minutes, the four of them stare at another gate.

  Soft red globes again.

  “Cutters.” Bas announces and they reach for the weapons.

  “Wait,” Sax eyes the mind scanner on the gateway’s right side. “I have a better idea.”

  Before any of the others can comment, Sax turns around and jumps into the nearest pool. The light vanishes instantly beneath the surface, but the mask adapts. The suit covers Sax’s eyes, and begins feeding a different type of visual information. Red-yellow glows wherever it detects heat. Sevora, swimming in their natural habitat.

  Without a host, Sevora are small. One could fit in Sax’s palm. They’re thin ovals, with numerous tendrils coming out of their larger end. Each of those tendrils is coated in barbed flagella. Useful for climbing, tearing their way inside something.

  If a Sevora could get inside Sax’s head, he’d be its slave. Its unthinking host. The Sevora know that too, and they swarm him. The mask makes it seem like Sax’s whole world is covered in reds and yellow. But the mask is pulling double-duty here. The barbs can’t pierce it, so the squid creatures flail at Sax uselessly for a second before realizing, while they can’t take the Oratus, he can take them.

  Sax swipes with his claws and grabs a pair of Sevora. Makes his way out of the pool.

  Mind scanners are simple things. Looking for signs of a Sevora and that’s all. They’re not smart enough to know that the Sevora sitting in Sax’s claw isn’t where its supposed to be. So the scanner makes a chirp and the gateway blinks green. Slides up into the wall.

  Sax turns and launches the two Sevora behind him, arcing them out over the pools. Doesn’t wait to see if they make a splash or have a harder landing, because the seed ship suddenly lurches. A shuddering jerk, and Sax digs his claws into the floor to keep from falling over. Loud pops follow the shift; echoing their way along the section’s walls and coming towards them.

  “Go!” Sax yells as explosions follow the pops, breaking apart the section’s wall around the gateway.

  Vincere conditioning teaches them to follow commands without hesitation precisely for situations like this, where moments make the difference between life and a cold, long death. Sax leaps ahead, with Bas alongside him - Gar and Lan are already gone, but pairs wait for their partner - and they get through the gateway before it slams shut again. This time, not just with t
he standard door but with a second, thicker one.

  On the other side, booms and bangs continue to ripple through the section they were just in. Tearing it apart. There’s a gravity tweak then as the seed ship adjusts its rotation to account for the loss of mass. For the fact that the entire two sections Sax and the others went through have separated, taking the rest of the Vincere forces and who knows how many Sevora with them.

  And leaving the four Oratus alone. One set against against a seed ship full of thousands wanting them dead.

  Good odds.

  15 Bury The Dead

  As the price for leaving Viera her weapon, Malo and the other Charre give Viera its consequences: the corpse of the Solare fighter. Viera stares at it, then looks at me.

  “When people die in Lunare,” Viera says. “We cast them off the cliffs. Nature takes care of the bodies after that.”

  “There are no cliffs here,” I reply. “Ignos asks that we burn our bodies, to bring his fallen back to him.”

  I’m hoping Viera will understand, because I’m having a hard time looking at the graying corpse. True, conflicts between Solare tribes often ended with dead, but they were marked by the stains and stabs of spears and arrows. This one, this one appears dead by magic. I don’t want to turn him over, to see what Viera’s weapon has done.

  “Then we’ll burn him.” Viera doesn’t have a fire to steal from, but it’s not hard to gather enough scrub brush from the scraggly bushes littering the area. I help her, partly for the distraction of using my own hands.

  Behind us, the Charre finish up with their captives. Malo gives notice that it’s a short time till we march again. He seems entirely willing to leave us behind.

  “I don’t think your Charre friend is happy with you,” Viera says as we pile up the brush.

  “I don’t care if he is,” I reply.

  That’s not true though. I do want Malo to like me, and not just because Ignos tells me his support will be important. For what, I’m still not sure. If my god demands it of me, however, who am I to deny his wishes?