Earth Song: Twilight Serenade (17 page)

Agan cringed and gestured angrily. The obviously confused guards obeyed and released the female.

“High Leader,” Sally bowed almost to the deck, “can you tell me if more ships are headed to the station?”

“Five more are almost there,” he confirmed. “It’s taken a little more time because the damnable station is moving.”

Sally raised her head and took in the various monitors and the data the displayed as quickly as she could. Long accustomed to analyzing data, she had the situation in tentacle in moments. “High Leader, I beg you reverse those ships out of their decent.”

“Why?” he asked, though not angry, just curious.

“I do not know.”

“This female is addled,” Agan said and glared at her. “She reads some code and sees enemies stalking our tails.”

“I ordered her to do just that,” he reminded his assistant and turned back to her. “I have trusted your ability several times and you have not let me down. However I cannot risk those ships, which are almost to the station, on just the word of a female.”

“I understand, High Leader. I am just waiting for word—” and she suddenly cut off as her communicator chirped.

“Tech leader,” her assistant spoke urgently, “we have results.”

“One moment,” she told the males and spoke, “proceed.”

“We found more subroutine calls, just as you instructed. The path was circuitous and leads between several of the programs. Whoever wrote it was incredibly talented and meant for us to waste our time. The vast majority of the changes are meaningless, only there to distract us.”

“Time is of the essence, assistant, get to the point please.”

“Yes leader. After the deleted segment you found that is triggered by the arrival of at least six ships, the maneuvering system is alerted to prepare to move the station. That routine contacts sensors again to get a current scan of the stars. That data is sent to the control program which runs a probability subroutine, and that result is sent to the shield controls.”

“What happens with that?” Sally asked, desperate now. Almost all eyes in the CIC were on her.

“We’re still searching.”

“Stay on the line, tell the instant you know!”

“Well, Sally?” Singh-Apal asked. She quickly and with simple terminology explained the conundrum to the leader. He seemed more technologically savvy than the average male and followed her explanation well.

“The question remains to what effect?” he asked her. “All of these computer decisions appear to deceive,” he said.

“And waste our time,” Agan agreed.

“Time,” Sally mumbled, “just more time.” She looked up and saw the station had moved even farther, closer to the K class star which was sending huge solar prominences arcing across the skies. A particularly huge one was just forming and climbing quickly, pulled by the gravity of the other stars.

She could tell by the mannerism of the High Leader that his patience was at an end. He was about to have her removed, when it hit her like a lightning bolt. “The shields!” she cried.

“What about them,” Agan demanded.

“The last subroutine call sent probabilities to the shield control program.”

“What difference does that make?” he pushed her.

“Look,” she said, forgetting all form and coming fully erect and pointing with a tentacle arm at the station display. “It’s been maneuvering closer to that star which is now forming a huge solar prominence. It knew that would happen, and started once there were six ships inside its shields!”

“I still don’t—” Agan started, but as she’d finished her impassioned description Singh-Apal had spun around to look himself. Memory of his first fight against that elusive Kaatan ship of the line came flooding back like a tidal wave.

“Order the second transport group to come about!” he bellowed and raced toward the command pylon, Agan staying where he was and looking aghast at him. “Cease loading of EPCs, disengage from the station and form up to retreat!”

“High leader, the second squadron just reached the safety of the station shields. The area of solar activity was extreme and their capacitors are full. The captains say they cannot leave and protect the transport for at least an hour.”

He thought for just half a second before giving the next order. “Abandon both transports, get those cruisers out of there.”

The tactical officer suddenly exclaimed. “The station has employed powerful gravitic tractors, all the ships are being held!”

“Fire on the station!” Agan screamed, venom flying from his fangs. “Disable the tractors!” This entire operation was his, and he’d finally realized everything had just gone to shit.

Even as the cruisers tried to bring weapons to bear, the station’s shields dropped.

Lilith was herself no small amount of artful computer programming. The implants placed in her brain when she was just a fetus let her work in code the way some worked in oils and clays. Taken as a whole it was a masterful work of deceit, and subterfuge. There were few beings in the Concordia as talented as Sally. Most would never have noticed at all.

When the shields fell the vast solar prominence was just beginning to wash over them. The station was designed to deal with them. In fact, it fed on them. The energy was taken, processed, and stored for use in the starship class capacitors. The deadly displays were of no threat to the station’s antennae which extended outside the shields. They were designed to survive in that hellish plasma storm. The actual station, was another matter.

Enough energy to power a dozen planets for a year washed over the station and the nearby ships. The station was instantly converted to plasma, consumed by the very power that had once fed it. Taken in comparison to the ten thousand kilometer wide prominence, the death of the ancient station made not the least amount of difference. The energy wave moved on and added the T’Chillen transport, and the four cruisers to its own existence.

The other four cruisers abandoned the transport they had been escorting and spread out to make a run for it. Their shields were already glowing red when the transport died. The rapidly growing and spreading prominence engulfed first one, then another, and finally a third. The fourth cruiser cleared the danger zone, its shield glowing white and billowing smoke from one of its blown capacitor banks. It had been bare moments from death.

On his command pedestal Singh-Apal sighed and shook his great hooded head. Seven cruisers and two transports, gone in moments. The crews were even more irreplaceable. He took a moment to enter an official notation in the log that Sally had figured it all out, and Agan delayed her report.

From where he still curled on the floor by the door, Agan looked from Sally to him and back. The guards were all loyal to Singh-Apal, he knew that, but the youngster was certain to have some loyalists in the crew. A tentacle arm reached down to his pedestal where a hidden compartment held a small beamcaster.

The assistant turned and slithered out the door without saying a thing. Singh-Apal caught the eye of Sally, who was looking at the now dissipating solar prominence with resignation. She bowed slightly, and he bowed back. Then he set about writing the after action report.

Agan-Soufa shot himself in the head in his cabin an hour later. Singh-Apal Katoosh had the corpse ejected into space where it slowly fell towards Dervish to one day join the thousands of other vaporized corpses.

Interlude

The command battlecruiser floated in the void a light hour outside the spectacular display afforded by the star system human’s called Dervish, which the T’Chillen just referred to by an ancient numerical designation. The High Tactical Leader had ordered his personal squadron to hold station while scientists studied data left over from the encounter with the human ships.

“Humans,” Singh-Apal Katoosh hissed the word. “Filthy hominids.” He regarded his command screens as he made notes on orders. He was still without an assistant.

His repulsion at the humans was much more than the natural disgust at a species of hairless monkeys. He stung from defeat at their hands over and over again. Add to that the fact that the Rasa appeared to have survived extermination and he was nothing short of livid. And the Grent had been all but silent for weeks. Helping the cursed Tanam or Mok-Tok, no doubt.

“High Leader,” an underling said.

Singh-Apal turned a baleful gaze in the male’s direction. For the underling to bow any lower, he’d have to unlatch a deck plate and crawl under the floor. It amused Singh-Apal enough to lessen his foul mood one notch.

“Speak.”

“The expected transport arrives.”

Singh-Apal gave the barest hint of acknowledgement before launching himself off the command pedestal and slithered at high speed across the bridge. The underling screeched and barely hopped out of the way of Singh-Apal’s flashing razor sharp tailspike.

A squad of personal bodyguards fell in behind him. After the repeated demonstrations of monkey treachery he’d resigned himself to never be without a few extra tails.

By the time the high leader reached the transfer dock the transport had already docked, and the doors opened. Crew was coming over, replacements and transfers. As the leader slithered out of the left, all work ceased as every T’Chillen present dropped to the deck in respect.

Singh-Apal dipped his hooded head the barest amount and gestured with an arm tentacle. Instantly work resumed as if he weren’t there. This sort of procedure was also his training. Had they been under combat alert, no observation of his rank would have taken place at all.

Upon his assuming control of all space forces, he’d found out that every ships officer from the captain down to a the supply officer required lower ranks and underlings to drop to the deck at their approach, regardless of the situation or danger. He’d ended that practice instantly. Of course the minor nobles holding officer rank and any male with a small hood or puny tail spike had complained.

“What good are respects to rank if the ship is being blown to pieces while underlings bow and scrape?” he’d raged to high command. Ultimately, his orders stuck. Largely through example.

Once all the T’Chillen crew had moved through, another pair of beings appeared. Singh-Apal’s eyestalks quivered in disgust, and alertness. If any species could elicit more contempt that humans, it was this one. At the same time, he was forced to admit he admired them, and even just a hint of respect. They were formidable in combat.

“You summoned us?” the leader asked. It didn’t show the least sign of respect due a higher order species from one such as itself.

Such arrogance, Singh-Apal thought. He had the feeling he was making a mistake, but he proceeded anyway.

“You have had dealings with the species known as humans?”

“On several occasions,” the one spoke again, obviously the leader. It stared directly into Singh-Apal’s eyestalks, utterly without fear. “We enjoy fighting them.”

“They have formidable space assets now,” Singh-Apal told them. “This is not common knowledge. However their assets are not enough to stand against us in a major battle. But we cannot locate them.”

“We have no ships,” the alien said, “this is also common knowledge. What good would we be?”

“You are renowned for finding your prey.” It was a small complement and it elicited a small nod from the leader of the aliens. The second one, the one which had never spoken, watched Singh-Apal with its unnatural unblinking eyes.

“We can track them, but if they possess starships it is going to be nearly impossible to find them.”

“And what if you have ships?”

The eyes of the second one narrowed the tiniest fraction of a millimeter, still more than enough for Singh-Apal to notice. The other continued to speak for them.

“You will give us starships, just to find these humans?”

“I will require more than just a simple tracking in exchange for starships.”

The other finally spoke. “If it is so simple, then you do it, snake.”

Singh-Apal’s mouth actually fell open in shocked surprise. Not since he’d been a hatchling in the Madhu clan crèche had he been spoken to in such a manner. And then not for long, he was soon far too strong for any to order around.

It was a monumental effort of will to not order them all killed, both these two and however many more were in the transfer ship. He wouldn’t admit it to these inferior creatures, but he did indeed need them.

“Come with me,” he ordered and turned to leave. After a second he looked back to see they hadn’t moved. Again he fought with himself before bowing his head a centimeter. “If it pleases you, please come with me.”

The two aliens both nodded their heads and followed on sinewy legs. If you didn’t look at them too closely, they resembled somewhat squat, misshapen humans. Behind them dozens more of their species milled inside the transfer lock.

Singh-Apal and his personal guards led their guests to a large bay on a lower deck. The rear of the bay was closed off leaving just a large open space. Once they were all inside Singh-Apal rounded on the aliens.

“Now that I’ve observed all your accursed niceties, are you interested in a deal, or do I blow you out into space and look for others?”