Renegade (48 page)

“The Angles, the Saxons and the Normans, yes,” said Romki. “That language group used to be called ‘Anglo-Saxon’, a long time ago. But there’s an even older ancestor, because that whole European family, with both Latin in the south and the Scandinavian tongues, all actually have some common roots they shared as far south as India. Your people, Major.”

“If you say so,” Trace said mildly.

“An English fellow named Sir William Jones first postulated it in the seventeen hundreds, old Earth time. It was called the Proto-Indo-European language, and it explained why Latin, Ancient Greek and Sanskrit all had these intriguing commonalities. Now you have to go back… well, thousands and thousands of years to get to that common protolanguage, and back then, most humans weren’t keeping very good records, so it all becomes very vague. But Spiral history has been recorded with modern computers for tens of thousands of years, the biggest loss of historical knowledge has been all the damn wars destroying records.

“Now there are records in chah'nas space that the chah'nas don’t touch — for all their good points, the chah'nas are not curious like humans are, they like to leave established understandings alone and look to the future. Another reason why they never got along with the tavalai, of course. And these records are of the very first linguistic recordings of the alo, when they first made contact with the chah'nas. For a long time the chah'nas were the only race the alo talked to. Since then, alo language has changed drastically — alo are not a static people, they’re constantly transforming, and their current tongues are nothing like their old tongues. You almost can’t make a transition map from old to new languages, they’ve changed that much… in humans you’d say it’s like English turning into Chinese in just a thousand years.

“But I’ve found a treasure trove of the old stuff. It’s safe, no one else knows where it is. And it has clear similarities to Ceenyne, which was the primary tongue of the deepynines, who were one of the main factions of the AIs, the hacksaws, who disappeared in the general direction of alo space during the AI civil wars, twenty five thousand years ago. With the deepynines it was a machine language, it’s based on numeric code but after a while they began expressing it audibly because direct data-transmission doesn’t allow time lag for group consideration, which was causing them to make poor decisions in complex scenarios. The audible variants are similar to that early alo speech in the same way that Sanskrit, Greek and Latin were similar. Suggesting a common ancestor. And when I try to trace just
how
similar, and look at how fast alo language has changed between their present and their past speech, and I overlay that onto what the deepynines spoke twenty five thousand years ago… I get an almost precise match in the degree of expected variation.”

And he gazed at the two marines, who stared at him, and tried to force their brains around all those unfamiliar concepts.

“Wait,” said Kono. “Are you saying the alo…
are
the deepynines?”

“I don’t know,” said Romki, with the amusement of an intellectual who could only laugh at the seriousness of it all. “Twenty five thousand years ago, one of the most vicious and devastating branches of the AI race disappears into what is now alo space. Twenty three thousand years later, just one thousand before humans appear in space, the alo appear and become friends with the chah'nas and chah'nas only. Alo today claim they killed all the deepynines. But what kind of species adopts the language of its enemy? Because they weren’t just influenced by it, this isn’t like the influence that American English or Indian English had on what we’re speaking now — this is structural.

“How could the alo have wiped them out, given that they only got AI-level technology
after
they beat them? Alo won’t say. And we sure as hell aren’t allowed in to look for ourselves, I know of at least three adventurous scholars who have tried and never been seen again, and the alo openly admit they’ll fire on anyone not-alo whom they find in their space. Maybe the deepynines
built
themselves an organic species from scratch. Maybe they adopted one that they found, and altered it in various doubtless unpleasant ways. All kinds of horrors present as possible. Or maybe they’re just friends, but you need an odd sense of humour to buy that one.”

“You think the deepynines are still there,” Trace breathed.

Romki smiled. “Oh certainly! And we’re allied to them through the Triumvirate Alliance, on whose behalf we just fought a hundred and sixty year war and lost tens of millions of lives to secure.”

“And are now about to welcome their chah'nas allies into our space as full partners,” Kono muttered.

Romki made a grand gesture, as though proud of them. “Exactly! And now you know why Fleet wants me dead.”

“Wants
us
dead,” said Trace. “They killed Captain Pantillo on Homeworld.”

Romki turned pale. “They
what?”

“Court-martialled him with some trumped up nonsense, then murdered him when he wouldn’t play along, and pinned it on our LC, Erik Debogande.”

“Debogande,” Romki murmured, aghast. “Of course!”

“We got him out, and ran here, via Merakis. We came here because word hadn’t reached here yet. But we didn’t count on the alo — there were no alo at Homeworld, we didn’t think any other ship was fast enough to beat us here. But clearly there was an alo somewhere nearby, because Chankow apparently knows, and now we’re screwed unless we can get the hell out of here soon.”

“Well I was going to say,” said Romki with alarm. “I wouldn’t mind a lift, I had a ship arranged for tomorrow, but that schedule now looks a little too relaxed.”

L
ieutenant Dale was not happy
. “We can’t just sit here and let some fucking Worlder lunatics do whatever the fuck they’re planning to do to Hoffen,” he said. They stood in the master bedroom, alone before the wide view of the park, and the vast hub-facing transparent ceiling above. “I don’t care what our beef is with HQ — HQ is not Hoffen, and I didn’t fight through thirty years of war to stop the Froggies blasting places like this one to just sit back now and let some local crazies do the same thing.”

“I agree,” said Erik. “What’s your plan?”

Dale blinked at him. “
My
plan?”

“That’s right, your plan. If I’m in charge of this boat, I don’t just want criticisms, I want alternatives.”

“We could question the girl harder. I’m sure she knows more.”

“You going to break her fingers?”

Dale scowled. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Why not just hand her back to Hoffen cops? They’ll do it for you. Be easier if you hadn’t told them to fuck off.”

“We don’t need station cops to…”

Erik’s uplink blinked, and he turned his back on Dale. “Go ahead
Phoenix
.”

“
LC,”
came Shilu’s voice. “
Transmission from the Major, ended ten seconds ago, no reply possible on this relay it’s all one way.”

“Copy
Phoenix
, send transmission.”

“
Hello Phoenix, please transmit to the LC.”
It was Trace’s voice, crackling with light static. From Faustino, it would be coming in at least a few seconds delayed, more with the com relays. “
We have who we came for, his information is dramatic. We’re leaving now, could get hairy. Keep your eyes open.”

Click, as Shilu came back on. “
That’s it LC, did you get all of that?”

“I got it
Phoenix
. The Major’s last words apply to you too. LC out.” He disconnected in frustration. None of them could say more with Fleet listening. He turned to Dale. “That’s Trace, she’s got Romki, says his information is dramatic, she’s getting out now. Thinks it’s about to blow up by the sound of it.”

Thud! Something distant reverberated through the walls and floor. Thud! Thud! “Those are explosions,” Dale said on coms to his squad. “Something’s going down. Everyone defensive, I want one observer at the windows, everyone else keep the hell away from them.” He disconnected, and strode for the main room. “LC, this way.”

In the big suite, marines were refastening helmets, and moving away from the big observation windows. One of them took Ivette, looking bewildered as she went to stand by a bedroom doorway. Others opened the suite’s big doors onto the hall, where two more marines were stationed, with another two up the hallway at the elevators and stairs. “
LT,
” said Lance Corporal Carponi on coms, “
I’m hacked into the elevators, but I’ve got no reading on those stairs.”

“Just keep a door open and listen,” said Dale, striding to Ivette. A main room screen showed station news feed, a reporter doing a hurried piece to camera, words scrolling across the screen, warning of multiple bombings and a code red. “Girl, what’s happening? Are you in on this?”

“It’s started,” Ivette said breathlessly. Outside the observation windows, huge red lights began flashing, and a siren echoed across the park. Walls and floor began a low rumbling as blast covers rolled slowly across the transparent ceiling.

Dale grabbed her by the collar, threateningly. “Are you in on this?”

“No!” She pawed ineffectually at his fist. “No, I just… know the people who are.” Thud. More distant this time, as Dale looked up, measuring this detonation in his mind from long experience of such things.

“What comes next?”

“I don’t know! This is just a distraction though, it’s much bigger than this.” Dale looked at Erik, who took his rifle from its shoulder strap, and wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable with its heavy weight.

“The security weakpoint is all the ships on the rim,” Erik said grimly. “Hoffen’s security clearance hasn’t been high enough to access all of them, especially not the big corporate freighters. I think they’ve underestimated the threat. If something big is still to come, that’s where it’ll come from.”

“While all the security is responding to these explosions,” Dale muttered. “LC, the Major’s moving, I say we go pick her up and get the hell out of this system.”

“I agree,” said Erik. “But if we move immediately we could trigger a security response. We’re certainly being watched, if we dash now they’ll assume we had something to do with it and hit us. Let’s give it ten minutes and see what’s unfolding in response to those explosions.”

“That’s a good thought,” said Dale, “but I’m concerned we don’t have ten minutes…”

“Get down!” yelled Private Tong by the main windows, as Dale grabbed Erik who was diving anyway. An earsplitting crash as everything went sideways, and the air was full of flying glass and things breaking.

“Get in!” someone was yelling, hauling Erik up as he ran and dove into the ensuite bathroom adjoining this bedroom. Other marines piled in, and Erik joined the armoured pile on the tiled floor as suddenly the walls were shaking with rapid, repeating impacts. Hands grabbed Erik and dumped him into the bathtub, then Ivette and Private Reddy piled on top, and someone elbowed Erik in the head.

“Down, stay down!” Dale was shouting, as walls thudded and more things broke. A chain gun, he realised. At least one, fired from somewhere across the park, through the main windows… that first shot had been an RPG of some kind. It sounded like hailstones outside, but in these bedrooms and bathrooms away from the main window, bullets had to travel through multiple walls.

“
Hallway!
” Sergeant Forrest yelled, and the sound of shooting over coms. Forrest had been one of the four guarding the hall stairwell and elevators. “
Under fire!”
And in the background… “
Get him!” “Watch the corner!” “Masks! Masks!”
Meaning someone was using gas out there. They were trying to storm the suite, Erik realised. Who ‘they’ were, he had no idea.

Then Private Reddy was yanking his own facemask from its pouch, and Erik cursed as he realised the marines had theirs on already… he grabbed it, fastened over his nose and mouth, and flinched as a bullet broke tiles somewhere overhead. Even as he pulled it tight, cold, compressed air flowed into his lungs. Another tile smashed, and someone swore.

“Stay down!” Dale told them. “Let ‘em spend ammo! Woody, status?”

“
Lots of gas, can’t see shit!”
came Sergeant Forrest’s reply. More gunfire. “
They’re in the stairwell, and they tried explosive egress into the next apartment! Came out the door, we killed about…”
more gunfire, and some shouting. “…
killed about five! Ricky and Hap are clearing that room, we might have just got another way out!”

“
Let’s go!”
someone else snapped, and some hard breathing that sounded like several marines sprinting. “
LT, this is Kalo, I’m out the door with Buzz. Sarge, where to?”

Wham! as something else hit the room outside, and the air itself seemed to gasp in shock. Another RPG, Erik reckoned. “Can’t stay here all day LT,” said Reddy against Erik’s ear. “The LC’s not that pretty.”

“You just volunteered, Spots,” Dale told him.

“Thank you sir,” said Reddy as he rolled out of the tub and onto the tiles with a clatter of armour. The bullet impacts paused, and Reddy scrambled out of the doorway.

“You okay?” Erik asked the terrified girl in the tub with him. Ivette nodded wordlessly, her nose bleeding again.

“
Got an exit,”
came Private Ricardo. “
Upstairs through the hole they made. Dumb fuckers didn’t leave enough reserve, all dead now.”

Bullet impacts in the room outside resumed. Erik tried to get his rifle out from where he’d managed to get it wedged beneath him, lifting his head just enough as he shifted to see a round bullet hole in the tiles just above him. He stared. When the hell had that gotten there? Another loud crack!, and he flinched.

“LC!” said Dale. “You’re next! Leave the girl!”

“I’m not leaving the fucking girl,” Erik retorted. “They’ll kill her.” He got up to a crouch, expecting to get a hole in him any moment. It wasn’t that he was
not
frightened, he thought, it was more that he didn’t know
what
he felt. Everything was too fast and too intense, and if he didn’t do exactly what his marines told him, he’d cause them an inconvenience that could get one or a number of them killed. And that scared him as badly as getting hit himself.

The bullet strikes paused again. “LC go!” Dale snapped, and Erik grabbed Ivette and leaped from the tub. Ivette was slow getting around the bathroom corner and he half carried her with his left arm, through smoke and debris from a barely recognisable presidential suite, everything aflame and shot to bits. As he made for the main hall doors the bullets started up again, and for the first time he felt real terror to hear their shrill staccato shweet-and-thud as they tore the air. Then he was out the door, and abruptly hit from behind as someone dragged him down and rolling on the hallway floor as bullets struck nearby. It was Dale, he realised, lying on top of him for protection as the bullets came, then hauling him up and shoving him on as he in turn collected Ivette and ran.

“You gotta leave her sir!” Private Tong yelled at him from the doorway opposite the elevators, catching his arm. “She’ll slow us the fuck down!” As Erik stared at the hole in the ceiling of the room beyond, where attackers had blown the floor and come charging in. Their bodies lay sprawled about the room, the walls sprayed with blood. Evidently a marine had come in the door after the ceiling had blown, and shot them all as they jumped through the hole. Another of those things that might work against criminal gangs and terrorists, but weren’t worth shit against Fleet marines who’d seen it all before.

And Erik saw Dale coming up behind Ivette as he paused in the doorway, and thought for a wild moment that Dale would just shoot her to save him the decision. “Go down the hall!” he yelled at the girl. “Get in one those rooms, hide, and surrender to the first security who enter!”

“I want to come with you!” Ivette protested.

“You can’t!” Dale yelled, and shoved her down the hall. “Go!” Several other room doors had been kicked open by marines to save time at the next explosive entry from above. Then he shoved Erik into the room, and he went. Erik shouldered his rifle, found firm footing amidst the debris on the floor, and leaped. He was not marine-augmented, but he had enough of a vertical leap to grab an exposed rim even in armour, and haul himself up.

Above, he was in another hotel room, rolling on scorched carpet to find more armoured bodies against the walls, and a marine in a combat crouch by the doorway — Private Ricardo, he saw, and waving him past. She joined him as he ran up the hall, saw another armoured body on the ground, neck and face punctured by rifle fire. Then a T-junction, and a left turn to an engineering access door, god knew how the marines had found it, only it was their job to know these layouts, as Trace had told him, and then he was being hustled inside. A scramble along a narrow steel grating, ducking low pipes overhead, then a tight steel stairwell with another marine at the top, gesturing them to stop.

Barely ten seconds later, Dale and the remaining marines arrived behind, footsteps thundering on the steel grate. “That’s it, we’re all here?” Erik gasped. Dale ushered him on without an answer, and he went down the stairs fast. Another rushed and stupid Fleet HQ decision, he thought — both here and on Homeworld, Fleet made the same mistakes with them, making panicked, hasty decisions on the spot. They’d not used marines in this assault, probably fearing that marines would have refused, and couldn’t have given this assault team much time to prepare. Attacking on short notice against marines the caliber of Alpha First Squad was always likely to end badly. He still didn’t allow himself to believe they were all still alive until they reached the access to an adjoining hall outside of the hotel complex, and saw that Kalo, Chavez, Lauda and Reddy, the four he hadn’t seen since the Presidential suite, were all waiting ahead and unhurt.

Lance Corporal Carponi shouldered past to take his place at the lead with Second Section — Ricardo, Halep and Yu. “Let’s go,” he said, and out into the corridor at a jog.

“LC,” said Dale, and yanked him along with the rest of First Section, as Third Section brought up the rear. These corridors were residential, with lines of doors broken by shop windows and random offices. All lights were tinged red, and an alarm siren was sounding. Mostly there was no one else around, and the one civilian they passed seemed not alarmed to see marines doing what marines did in emergency alerts — running in formation with weapons.

“We need to call PH-4 for pickup,” said Erik to Dale at his shoulder. He recalled not so long ago, jogging with Dale along the green and wealthy streets near his family home. So familiar, yet it seemed like another universe, and another age. “We’re not getting back to
Phoenix
through the hub.”

“Already done it,” said Dale. “They won’t leave yet, they’ll want to make it as fast and direct as possible. We won’t be at the pickup point for a while yet.” And if they got held up on the way, PH-4 would be left waiting for someone to blow them out of the sky.

“If the girl’s right, a whole bunch of shit might be about to break loose,” said Erik. “Might make good cover.”

“Yep,” said Dale. “Watch this corner.” They slowed as the marines ahead cleared it. “That girl could have been their target. Might have thought she was recruiting us to join the Worlders.”

“Fuck no,” said Erik, as they resumed a regular jog. “That’s no reason to shoot up a nice hotel. That was a panic move — Fleet HQ panics a lot with this stuff, which might tell you something.”