Resolute Glory (The War for Terra Book 8) Page 12

  Learning their destination was his home world had been a strange sensation. His people had a tradition of fleeing to deep water and fighting against predators when their time came. It was how he intended to leave the galaxy. Yet he missed the cold water and welcomed the feeling of his cartilaginous ridges filled and his gills opened.

  In the water, his normally roiling form and muscular flowing arms lengthened, his body responding to the water as it was designed as he slid into the shallows near the north island. He had no desire to see his family or visit the factory where he had spent too long as a young one. He threw caution to the sea and shot past the short reef into the open water of home. Past the ridge of volcanic glass, Cal spread himself wide into the northern current. The sensation of returning and breathing in the waters was nearly orgasmic as he flitted across the rocky sea bottom towards the deeper water ahead.

  The warriors’ guilds had welcomed him into their arms as one of their own. His life’s ambition seemed to have been filled with the ascension into their ranks, but he still felt a pang of longing for the alien home he had known for so long.

  He had refused to remove the vocoder implanted near his sense membrane when the guild had asked. He told himself it was so they could call when his new posting was ready. In reality, he wasn’t sure he wanted a new posting at all. Resolute and the Alliance had been his home for so long, and the thought of leaving it behind was frightening even for him. The temporary respite was simply biding time for the young warrior until the next battle. What that battle might be, whether in an Alliance uniform or home guard armor was yet to be decided.

  He felt a subtle vibration in the water through his swim bladder. A tri-head was approaching. The appearance of the vicious creature in the icier waters was strange but not unheard of. In his experience, any predators venturing this far into the shallows were ill or desperate for food. His skin flooded with blood and he turned a deep red—a warning of his virility and cunning. It should be enough for an injured tri-head to know to move away. His senses strained to feel the currents. He was aware of the movement of the water through his gills and the wash of microscopic life over his skin. The electric shock of the movement of the tri-head made him cautious and alert. Wherever the creature was, it was larger than he had expected. He made a quick decision regarding his location from shore. Running from a tri-head was usually preferable if they were longer than your own body length, but the shallow water bolstered his confidence. Instead of retreating, he moved further from the shore, into deeper waters. He wanted space to move if the predator attacked.

  A flash of color drew Cal’s attention as a school of silverwaders shot past. His senses were overwhelmed by the brilliance of the six-finned species of schooling fish. They dipped below him, pushing closer to the shore, wary of the approaching predator. Cal flared out his own tentacles to ward off the feeder fish, but they were in a panic. He drew himself up smaller again, careful not to expose himself to too much danger, but the silverwaders only swirled closer. It was behavior he had not seen from the tiny creatures before. Tourists in the lower latitudes had told him of the swarming activity, the fish gathering to detect a new species, tasting the water around Cal as if he was some new type of animal they were curious to meet. He realized now what had drawn the tri-head in closer. He smelled like something foreign.

  A black mass hurled itself at him from his left. He blew out his ballast bladder and shot to the surface, narrowly avoiding the razor teeth of the tri-head. The specimen was fully three times Cal’s size, and aggressive. It turned its segmented body hard for another pass, twisting and rolling to approach from beneath. Cal shot towards shore, aware he had misjudged the size of the beast because he had been away too long. Again, one of his tentacles felt the pass of leathery skin as the beast shot in for a kill. Cal dove, aware he was putting himself at a disadvantage, but he needed space to move if he had any hope of surviving the attack. The silverwaders were gone, running to the nearer beach.

  Born from the deepest waters of the planet, the tri-heads had evolved into the alpha predators on Walapacku. Fiercely instinctive, they had no concept of morality or a just battle, only the desire to feed. The line of teeth in the head of the beast swept back in a triangular pattern from a pointed, sensory snout. Twin eye stalks scanned the ocean for movement, but their keen sense of smell was what made the animal the top of the food chain. Descending back from the shovel-like head were three segmented body sections. Two short, flat dorsal fins aided in navigation, and a large upright tailfin served to accelerate it and made for efficient turning. The beast couldn’t be said to be ruthless, but it was the most efficient killer in the world-ocean, and that made it worthy for a warrior to battle.

  The tri-head closed in for the kill, sweeping around to narrow Cal’s escape route with the mass of its long body. Cal could taste carrion on the creature’s scent. The beast was greedy, having already fed, and nonetheless was going after him. That could be its weakness. As the massive jaws opened to bite one of the Octopod’s tentacles, Cal turned and flattened himself, deflating in the water by blowing out the fluid strengthening his frame. Evolution had given his people their own advantages in the sea. The tri-head bit down on the open water. The creature could make no sound, but Cal felt the vibration of its frustrated roar.

  The loss of his turgidity again put him at a disadvantage as he was forced to float on the current while his cartilage refilled. The tri-head disappeared into the inky darkness below him, readying itself for another attack. Cal tried to narrow his form as best he could and present a smaller target, but the beast could see his profile from below better than he could sense its movements from above. It was a matter of time now and the Octopod knew it. He was prey.

  It was the flash of silver that caught his attention again. Instead of the cold pain of the predator’s jaws, Cal saw the flash of the school of silverwaders. The subtle warmth of the creatures as they hurtled past was a jolt to his system. Vibrations from below alerted him to the tri-head moving fast from the deep. The creature, though, swam into the school of fish and not at Cal. Disoriented, the Octopod realized his profile must have changed from below. The school had swarmed again, changing his shape and making him seem larger. The tri-head had attacked a thin spot in the school.

  Cal straightened and pushed with his powerful appendages towards the shallow water and shore. The silverwaders had bought him time and satiated the tri-head for the moment, but it wasn’t a moment which would last. With all speed, Cal shot from the school and into the waters near shore. As he breached the surface, he heard a splash behind him. The tri-head had breached in the midst of the silverwader school. Scooping up hundreds of the tiny fish in its wide mouth, the predator appeared to be reveling in the feeding frenzy. Cal pushed harder, feeling the tri-head shift its attention back to him as the school fled in terror. The first grains of the sandy beach were a welcome sensation under his tentacles as he cleared the small berm of rock near shore.

  The tri-head slid up onto the rock, but the shards of volcanic stone cut into its belly and turned it back. Cal crawled onto the beach, finally getting a good look at the fins retreating back to the deeper water. He was safe, but now felt more alone on his own world than ever. He had been a foreign enough body in the waters of his birth to attract a monster of a tri-head. As he emptied the cartilage that formed his aquatic structure again, he felt the weight of the planet’s gravity pressing down on his flesh. It was where he belonged now, not in the water of his home.

  A vibration from above, a startled Cal looked to the sky. A light snow had begun to fall in advance of a storm, but the air was clear enough to see. After the attack, the sound of a shuttle landing at the spaceport was refreshing. He blew out his gills and sealed his flaps while rolling his tentacles and heading up the beach to watch the shuttle’s descent. The feeling of reliving his childhood was strong now that the adrenaline and blood was flowing. He crested the short hill and looked past the fenced landing yard. The ship was Alliance and had th
e markings of the carrier Zeus emblazoned on the side. As the landing ramp extended, Cal saw a sight he had not expected.

  Accompanied by armed guards on either side, in cuffs Alice Bennett stepped onto the soil of Walapacku for the first time. Her face appeared bruised and her plain duty uniform was torn off the shoulder, but she held her head high. Behind was Admiral Chang, bleeding from a cut over his left eye. He looked angry and Cal could estimate what had happened without another thought. Bennett had always been a warrior, and her hatred of the man who had cost her a mate was plain in every step she took. Trailing the procession was another familiar set of faces, accompanied by more guards. Doctor Demsiri had his face to the ground, and Captain Farthing appeared calm. Neither wore the cuffs, but both seemed to be equally shackled.

  He watched as the parade of faces disappeared into the reception building. Within, Cal knew, was a cell designed to hold smugglers and pirates. He knew Alice had been eager to travel to the derelict battleship, but he had believed Captain Farthing was away on a courier mission. The small vibrations of his vocoder buzzed near his sensory organs. He had not deactivated the device when arriving in case the admiral attempted to contact him with a new posting. The timing seemed portentous and Cal was suspicious as he activated the device.

  “Cal?” The voice of Josh Goldstein vibrated his hearing membrane. “Are you somewhere we can talk?”

  “Commander Goldstein?” the Octopod asked. “Is there a new mission?”

  “Sort of,” Goldstein replied. “Probably not the one you were hoping for, though.”

  As the Octopod listened, the mass of his head turned a bright red. He wondered before accepting the mission if he wouldn’t have been safer with the tri-head.

  16

  Vadne

  The single moon of Vadne shone bright across the new capital city, turning the gleaming metropolis into a dark and strange maze of alleys and shadows. After the fall of the Confederacy and the rise of the Alliance, the city had been built with the arrival of off-world species in mind. The typical architecture of Vadne, tiered skyscrapers and natural stone complexes, had given way to squat housing for workers in the Tonal style and metal and glass towers for the humans. Care had been taken to construct the illusion of prosperity and collaboration within the central areas, but on the outskirts the city seemed to spread uncontrollably into slums and culturally segregated compounds.

  Stalking through the dark corners, the traveler was nearly invisible in a long cloak which seemed to absorb the light from above. He moved quickly but carefully through the alleys, cautious not to make sound and to stay out of sight. The few other pedestrians out this close to curfew simply ignored the tall figure rather than draw attention to themselves by calling him out. The tall figure paused at a corner, listening to an approaching Ch’Tauk warrior patrol. The massive armored soldiers stomped through the city, enforcing the mandates of the government which seemed to have declared war on its own citizens. The traveler moved further back into the shadows as the patrol moved closer.

  Appearing first in the Northern Province as a result of a peaceful demonstration, the patrols had become increasingly frequent in the cities of Vadne as the Chancellor increased his alliance with the Ch’Tauk. The platitudes and promises of temporary solutions fell on deaf ears as the battle-hardened troops began slaughtering villages and taking away Vadne and aliens alike who stood against the regime. Here in the capital the situation was growing more tense by the moment, as the alien compounds were subjected to unannounced raids and people had begun to disappear.

  The massive warriors paused in the moonlight and scanned a nearby shop. The traveler saw the gleam of the gray metal that covered the creature’s bodies. There had been a suggestion of robotic augmentation when the patrols had appeared, leading to the inevitable rumors the government of the Chancellor had been taken over by androids. He had heard of some activity on this front by the shipyards of Aleinhelm, but had never seen one himself. A lone member of the Northern Defense League had proven the conspiracy incorrect when he had detonated an explosive under a Ch’Tauk warrior. The stories from the village told of blood and sinew, but the village had been razed after the event and no trace remained. The incident was used as an excuse to implement a brutal style of martial law on the planet and seal the system to incoming traffic. At great peril, the traveler had journeyed to the province to see the evidence in person, and had been satisfied his life was a small sacrifice if it led his people against the enemy.

  The twin armored figures stepped closer to the shop, raising energy weapons towards the door. The store was an alien shop selling confections. The traveler had eaten one of their delicacies once out of curiosity and had been sickened by the spices used. He also knew the owners were a part of the network he was about to meet.

  Unleashing a blast of blue energy at the storefront, the warriors advanced on the building. Smoke and debris blasted from the inside, eliciting screams from those living above the shop as the building caught fire.

  There was a howl from inside as the monstrous creatures unleashed more blue flame. One of the warrior caste stepped through the fire, unfazed by the destructive potential unleashed on the building, and disappeared from view. When he returned, the beast was holding the shop owner by one tattered sleeve. The diminutive alien screamed as his other arm was raised and he was bodily thrown from the building. Another return inside brought more screams and the emergence of the alien’s mate. She was larger than her husband, and burly by most standards, but her face was burned almost to the bone. She screamed louder as she too was hurled from the burning wreckage.

  The second warrior approached the two aliens, raising its weapon to their tortured faces. No sound from the warriors to indicate what they wanted. For a moment, the two armored creatures stared at the smoking survivors of the fire, then the nearest one opened fire and obliterated them. The act was so sudden it left the traveler out of breath and wanting to help. His mission, however, kept him at bay. The two warriors turned back to their patrol, moving on as if there had been no death, leaving behind the sound of the fire and the stillness of the street.

  The traveler wanted to attack. His natural instincts were to leap at the warriors and tear them apart with his claws, tasting the flesh inside as he relished his savage victory. Instead, he moved further down the side alley and into the night. He heard the sounds of emergency vehicles heading towards the devastation behind him, and screams from the residents of the surrounding buildings as the incinerated bodies were discovered. Soon, even that was muffled by the passage of increasing distance and the sound of his own heart.

  The moon had nearly reached its zenith when he found his destination. Once intended to be the burial hall of the Alliance’s greatest warriors, the granite and marble building now served as a lone reminder of what they could have been. The traveler waited, leery of the seeking eyes of a patrol. Long past curfew, his capture would now mean instant death, and this close to the end of his mission he could not afford that fate. His keen ears heard no sound as the night settled into its routine. He finally crept from his hiding place towards the structure. It had no roof and the marble floors gleamed in the night, reflecting the moon from above. It made him feel exposed. There was a single tomb in the center of the building, with a brass name plate. He ignored the name as he moved into the shadows. His destination was a column on the far side near a fountain.

  From within the robes he withdrew a scanner not much larger than his palm. A muted beep and the column turned away from the street without noise. Built as an access way for workers, the secret door had become the entrance to an underground labyrinth of maintenance tunnels and sewage spillways. The traveler slipped inside the hole and pressed the button again, sealing the hole to the night. The blackness within was impenetrable even for his eyes. Special dampeners had been installed to keep the stairway and short door beneath hidden. The light which had once been installed for the use of the maintenance workers had been extinguished and the door below
hidden to any but the most experienced hands. He closed his eyes and felt along the wall to the right. A protrusion, small enough to be mistaken for a natural imperfection in the wall, revealed the switch for the door. Pressed, the door slid aside, revealing more blackness within. The traveler stepped past the door and heard it close behind. All at once, the lights burst forth, temporarily blinding him despite his readiness for them.

  The smell of a pheromone challenge assaulted him while the roar of a verbal question assaulted his ears. Both were in his native language and both were expected. He replied, giving a countersign he had heard once and then never again, the sound of a warm summer breeze blowing along the southern desert sands before a monsoon rain. It was a code particular to him and would never be used again. It signaled the success of his information gathering mission.

  “Sterling…” the voice from beyond the light called. “You have arrived at a fortunate time. One more night and we would have assumed you were dead.”

  “One more night and I would have been, Governor Drachma,” the traveler replied. “I had not imagined this city in this state.”

  “I have not been governor since the usurper took our planet from us, old friend,” the black-furred Vadne replied, stepping into view as the lights were lowered. “I would not have expected any of us to know what has become of our planet.”