+<Incredulity, anger; demand> What do you mean, `disappeared’?+
Across the communication link came the subordinate’s fear and humiliation. +<Fear; obeisance> The deathworlder is not present within the ship, Alpha. We have swept the deck twice!+
+<Fury; declaration> The deathworlders are primitives! They do not possess personal cloaking devices, and the group at the breeching port have not reported it passing them! The deathworlder is aboard this ship, and if you have not found it, it is because you are either blind or negligent!+
The Alpha paced the bridge of the ship, transmitting its ire to the inferior on the other side of the vessel. +<Threat; declaration> You will bring me the deathworlder’s carcass, or your packmates will bring me yours. Either way we will feast! Do you understand?+
+<Fear; obeisance> Understood, Alpha! We will sweep until it is found! The second group shall-urk!+
The Alpha halted in his pacing. +<Anger; demand> What? What is it+
Panic flooded the link. +<Fear, excitement; declaration> The deathworlder! It is here!+
The Alpha, as was its right, tapped into the beta’s visual stream. For the first time, through the other’s eyes, he saw the deathworlder.
It was… tiny. Slender. It seemed far too small to wreck the kind of havoc it was having, and yet he acknowledged it was very, very quick, and far stronger than its size would imply; one of the beta’s group tried to shoot at it with its pulse weapon, but the creature twirled toward the attacker, adding its own momentum as it struck out with the middle joint of its upper limb into the center of the beta’s upper torso. Although the hunter was much larger it was thrown backward, its torso visibly distorted from the blow.
The dying hunter broadcast its surprise and pain across the communication network. The Alpha dismissed it, disconnecting it and letting it die alone. There was no point wasting bandwidth on a failure.
+<Fear; request> Alpha, what are your commands?+
The Alpha did not reply, as any reply would carry along its surprise. The second hunter had managed to hit the deathworlder with a pulse blast – a lucky shot, but a hit that would be instant death to any other prey. The creature’s face twisted with pain but it did not fall, and it thrust an arm against the corridor wall to shove itself out of the way of the followup pulses. It dashed forward, even running along a wall briefly, and then it was on the hunter that had shot it. It used one limb to guide the pulse gun away even as the other slammed a brace of curled manipulator digits into the hunter’s throat. Another presence on the network disappeared.
+<Desperation; request> Alpha, what are your commands?+
The beta was shooting as fast as its pulse weapons would cycle, but the creature sheltered behind the corpse of its latest victim, holding up a body that was far larger than its own. Then the dead hunter’s body surged forward, the borrowed perspective making it appear as if it had been thrown at the Alpha itself. The corpse crashed into the beta, knocking it down, and behind it came the deathworlder itself.
+<Terror; supplication> Alpha, what should I do?!+
+<Annoyance, resignation; command> Teach me as you die.+
Xiù was proving to be a very good xenomorph.
She’d wiped out four more groups of Hunters, and thankfully hadn’t taken any more pulse gun hits after the first group. She’d have a bruise on her lower stomach to match her lower back, and her more gymnastic techniques hurt. The adrenaline helped her ignore the pain, though; she hoped her efforts were helping Regaari and the others.
Moving through the vents was proving to be a good idea. The Hunters never seemed to think of looking up. She’d remove a grate, wait for a group to pass by her, and then drop down quietly and attack them from behind… appearing from nowhere from their perspective, and never leaving anything alive to report where she’d disappear to. She’d jump back up before a larger group could respond, find another exit from the vents, and do it over again.
The Hunters were learning, though… they were forming up, making their groups bigger, hoping to drag her down with numbers. The last group she’d encountered was five strong, and she hadn’t wanted to risk those odds. She’d used another one of the nervejam grenades Regaari had given her – only poking her head out of the vent long enough to toss the weapon among them and then ducking back. Even from ten metres away the grenades gave her a massive headache, and she’d had to pause inside the ducts to let it and the stars in her vision abate.
How many Hunters had she killed? She didn’t know. She was tired, and the hurts were piling up. She wished she’d thought of asking Regaari for a communicator or something, so she could at least ask how the fight was going on the ship. She hoped they were winning, or at least holding their own… she wished she could go back to see, but she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to find the way.
She wanted to go home. Xiù didn’t know if that meant Earth or Gao anymore… but either would do.
The Alpha was beyond infuriated. How could it be, as the supreme race of the galaxy, that it could be burdened with so many brood who were so… useless?
It seized a resting-bench from its place on the floor and flung it across the bridge. It bounced off the back of a beta manning the helm; it felt its surprise and fear across the network but the beta knew better than to protest in any way. The Alpha wished it would… it longed to see a body pulp beneath pulse blasts, to feel flesh in its teeth… any flesh! They were Hunters, but they were being hunted, and the Alpha would not allow this to continue!
It spun back to the schematic of the assault vessel on the large screen at the front of the bridge. The locations of dead brood showed on the map, a surprisingly large group located at the breeching tube. It was another thing to drive the Alpha to insanity with anger: although most of that stack could be attributed to the deathworlder, the rest were from the prey. The prey were rallying… losing their fear. When the deathworlder was dealt with, the Alpha would take the prey ship itself. It would lead the remaining brood, and they would make sure the prey suffered before they died. They would die slowly, in full view of each other. The hunters would have their rightful fear!
The rest of the bodies drew a line. A line that meandered around the ship, but trended in a definite direction: toward the bridge. One way or another the Alpha would see this creature in person, and it would make sure it ended here. It was disappointing, but the death would have to be quick. Grudgingly, the Alpha granted the deathworlder was prey more dangerous than they’d ever encountered before.
How was it doing what it did? Over and over again it fell upon packs, attacking from behind even when the packs were careful about monitoring their rears. It would fight and kill, leaving the bodies behind and disappearing like mist-
Like mist. The Alpha looked up at the vent on the bridge, at the stream of moist vapour that kept the ship pleasantly humid and kept its skin moist and pliable. A hunter wouldn’t fit inside the ductwork, but the tiny deathworlder certainly could.
+<Anger; declaration> The prey is in the air circulation system!+ it roared across the communications network. +<Command> The remaining brood will report to the bridge! Helm, disconnect us from the prey ship! Leave the grav-spike in place, I do not want them escaping!+
The helm operator turned. +<Concern; query> Alpha, the remaining brood are engaged with the prey on the Herd vessel! They cannot disengage easily-+
+<Anger; impatience; declaration> Then leave them! I will not risk the deathworlder sneaking off this vessel.+
+<Obeisance; query> What should the pack aboard the Herd-vessel do?+
The Alpha turned to the helm operator, all seven eyes blazing. It pleased it to see the beta shrink beneath its gaze. +<Declaration; dismissal> They should win. Or die.+
Xiù knew something was going wrong when she felt the Hunter ship shake. Was it disconnecting from Furfeg’s ship? Was it going to leave?
She crawled faster through the ducts, cursing quietly in Mandarin, English, and Gaori.
“What? What are they doing?” Regaari heard over his communicator. He briefly peeked over the barrier he was behind. His original had finally run out of energy and died, and he’d nearly met his end while dashing to a barrier that still functioned.
Unfortunately, fewer barriers functioning meant fewer barriers for the Hunters to shoot at, which meant the ones remaining were dwindling quickly. It wouldn’t be long before they had no defences, and that meant it wouldn’t be long before they were all dead. He’d finally gotten the defenders to start concentrating their fire: his Gaoian brothers were the easiest to coordinate, but eventually even the Vzk’tk had fallen into line. With that change they’d started getting kills, but they weren’t killing them fast enough.
So why are they retreating? he wondered. The Hunter ship had detached from the Rich Plains, all but tearing away from the trapped diplomatic ship; a kinetic field had snapped over the breech in the hull, keeping their precious air from escaping into space. The Hunters had abandoned their crewmates, and the last four were fighting desperately, even using the bodies of their own dead broodmates as shelter! What in the stars was going on?
It took him a moment to realize: the Hunters weren’t retreating, they were trapping Xiù aboard their ship. Her plan had worked, and now she was facing their anger alone!
“The left! Bring down the one on the left!” Jumping to his feet, Regaari pressed the firing stud on his rifle, filling the air with fresh blasts of kinetic energy.
The Alpha watched the vent carefully.
The last of its brood were on the bridge with it… a meagre four hunters from the thirty that it had started with. It was appalled by the small number, but it didn’t regret the loss of the others. No… they were weak, and the Swarm was better off without them. None that became prey could be predator, and those that were not predator were not worth even the effort of contempt.
There was one creature coming… one that might be worth calling predator. The Alpha was determined to make sure that wouldn’t happen. It would kill the deathworlder, cementing its place as prey, and keep its carcass to provide to the broodspawn. Its flesh would spawn new kin, new hunters who would help bring fire to the deathworlder’s home.
It would arrive via the vent, the Alpha was certain.
Even though it was prepared, it was still surprised when the vent grate suddenly snapped off with the shriek of strained bolts. The Alpha ducked aside the sudden projectile, and all the hunters hammered the duct with their pulse guns. The bulkhead around it buckled and warped from the concussive blasts until the Alpha had its doubts that even one of the scrawny egg-headed prey would fit through it.
+<Command> Cease fire!+ The others instantly obeyed. The Alpha cautiously crept toward the vent… had the prey been frightened away and was now cowering inside? There would be no escape… the Alpha would let it starve in the ducts if it had to! It would seal the bridge and vent the air from the rest of the ship if need be-
There was the sound of sliding metal. A small metal object flew from the vent. Tinted red by the lights of the bridge, a green light was briefly visible as it tumbled in mid-air, then two-
The Alpha was Alpha for a reason. It sighted and shot the device in mid-air, sending it careening to the far side of the bridge, where it made a single quiet beep. The Alpha felt a tingle wash over its body, but the nervejam grenade had been knocked too far away to be effective. The leader of the Hunter group snarled at the cowardly attack.
+<Contempt; command> Prey neural disruptor device, be wary!+
Sage advice, as a second grenade slid out of the vent. All five hunters loosed their weapons at it, sending it flying to the far side of the bridge. But there were no activation lights on the grenade… it had been a distraction, shifting their aim just long enough for the prey to come flying out of the vent!
The deathworlder flipped as it fell, landing easily on its feet with a thump that the Alpha could feel through the decking. Just as quickly it was airborne again, leaping half the length of the bridge to land beside one of the remaining hunters, its lower limb flickered out three times to snap all the knees on the beta’s left side. The hunter cried out its pain in a transmission that suddenly ceased as the hands of the prey swept upward, crushing the hunter’s throat in between.
The prey ducked down, letting the corpse land on it, carrying the body as a fleshy shield as it advanced on the two hunters near the helm. When it reached the shelter of the consoles on the port side of the bridge it flung it toward the Alpha; the corpse landed well short of the other hunter but obscured its shots long enough for the prey to dash forward under cover. The other hunters aimed at the end of the consoles, but the prey tricked them again by leaping over the middle, curling its body to minimize its profile as it landed and rolled. It dodged aside their hurried shots, leaping forward and using one hunter’s head as a pivot as it kicked at the other’s; the snapping and crushing sounds echoed across the bridge simultaneously.
Two hunters left: the Alpha and the remaining beta. The Alpha’s rage rang across the suddenly empty network; it would not allow the prey to become predator, it would not!
+<Command> Hold!+
The beta glanced at it, confused and afraid. The Alpha would punish it for that fear, if they survived. The prey took a ready stance, ready to spring into violent motion at any action; its long, braided head-fur trailed over its shoulder, swinging back and forth almost hypnotically. It looked relaxed, almost casual, perhaps to anger them further… but the Alpha could hear the creature’s heavy breathing. It imagined it could hear the heavy tendons straining, the dense muscle of the prey’s heart, the grinding of bone in the prey’s joints. The product of a world which made even the Hunter homeworld look like paradise.
The Alpha reached an arm down slowly, tapping several controls. A counter appeared on the upper display, showing symbols changing at a steady beat, rung out by an audible tone. Even prey would be able to determine its significance… proven by the deathworlder crouching slightly. It drew a breath, baring its teeth. It knew.
+<Shock; confusion> Alpha?!+
The Alpha gestured widely. Win or lose, it would not allow the prey to become predator.
The creature accepted the challenge. It used a nearby console as a step, its feet thrusting hard enough to crumple the metal covering, launching itself toward the obvious leader of the Hunters. The Alpha was ready, hitting it in mid-air with both pulse guns. Where one gun seemed to barely slow the deathworlder, both blasts landing simultaneously in the same spot was far more effective… the prey was swatted down with a huff of expelled air. It broke its fall by striking out at the deck with its upper limb.
The beta was an inferior shot, but it advanced, peppering the deathworlder with pulse fire. From its place on the floor the creature hooked a nearby resting bench with its feet – the very same bench the Alpha had thrown earlier in its rage – and a pull and a kick tossed the bench into the air. The prey leaped up to follow it, slamming it with both of its palms and sent it hurtling at lethal velocity at the Alpha. The hunter tried to dodge but the bench shattered against its kinetic shield, collapsing it.
Furious, the Alpha brought its arms up for another volley, but the creature was already upon the beta. A single pulse caught the creature on the upper torso, but it wasn’t enough to slow it; it swept within the beta’s range with its arms outstretched, parrying the closest arm and its pulse gun with a movement that was deceptively soft, pulling the larger hunter down and in between the deathworlder and the Alpha. Its other hand hammered against the beta’s torso twice, kinetic force as powerful as any heavy pulse weapon reaching through the flesh to jelly the organs inside.
+<Terror, pain; supplication> Alpha!+
+<Anger; determination> Enough!+ The beta’s body obstructed its shots, but the Alpha no longer cared. It fired its pulse guns together, pounding the prey’s erstwhile shield… the beta had enough time to broadcast its shock and betrayal before it was silenced. Its body was knocked back against the prey, which squawked in surprise.
The Alpha fired again; the body was lifting from the deck completely, much like the prey had thrown the corpse at the Alpha earlier. The deathworlder was knocked down, pinned beneath the body, and it scrambled to kick the body away so it could move. The Alpha rained pulse fire down on it ceaselessly, always in paired shots and always on the same point. A double-pulse landed on the prey’s outstretched arm near its hand, causing a cracking sound to echo through the bridge.
The deathworlder shrieked with pain, and it was the most beautiful sound the Alpha had ever heard.
Renewed, the Alpha strode forward, firing all the while, not caring what it hit – as many blasts splashed against the dead beta as did the deathworlder. The prey had curled into a ball, shielding its head with its arms, but it was struck against the lower torso and upper legs. By the time the Alpha stood over it, the creature was reduced to a quivering wreck, its breath coming in great heaves of pain.
The Alpha admired its work for long moments. Prey. Not predator.
It reached down and seized the creature by the throat, lifting it with a clawed hand. If not for its cybernetic enhancements it could have never managed it… the deathworlder was every bit as dense as it’d guessed. The creature whimpered, struggling for breath. Water leaked from its eyes, running over the Alpha’s fingers as it twitched, pawing weakly at its grip with its good arm.The water carried the delicious fragrance of fear, and the Alpha felt an overwhelming need. It needed to taste this creature, to find out if its flesh was as succulent as it guessed it to be. It leaned forward, its multiple rows of teeth bared, to take a bite from the creature’s shoulder, leaving the throat intact so the prey could cry out its agony and fill the empty air of the bridge with its music.
So intent was the Alpha that it didn’t see the creature’s good hand dip into the front pouch of its clothing, nor did it see the prey’s eyes blaze with anger. But it certainly felt it as the deathworlder rammed its good limb down the hunter’s gullet. The Alpha threw the creature away before it could grab hold of anything, its rows of teeth scraping ribbons of fabric and flesh from the deathworlder’s arm. It spat out the fabric, but the flesh… the flesh and the blood was beyond divine!
It would have more! It ignored the lump in its throat as it pursued the prey, which had scrambled to unsteady feet and was fleeing, trying to escape the bridge. All the better! Elation filled the Alpha… it would run the prey to ground, and feast on its limbs! It would let the creature survive until the very last moment, when it would chew the cardial organ from its chest! All thoughts of giving the carcass to the egg-layers were forgotten, as was the slowly decreasing counter on the bridge display-
Then all thought disappeared from the Alpha’s mind as the nervejam grenade lodged in its throat activated.
Xiù scrambled to get away from the big Hunter. Her broken arm and tortured gut screamed at her, but she had to move, had to get away. The bridge doors were just a few paces away, but she could hear the Hunter chasing her, bringing along the grenade she’d rammed down its throat, and it was way too close-
Pain. Never in her life had Xiù experienced such agony. Her midsection, her arm – mere drops in a sea. Her head felt was if it was exploding. Her body seized around her, every muscle deciding to act on its own; she barely felt the impact of the deck as she fell over mid-stride and slid. Her fractured arm screamed as her own strength pulled at it, and her teeth ground against each other. She tasted blood.
When the seizure was done she lay on the deck, twitching, as bloody drool dripped from her lips. Sound came to her ears as though from far away, and her eyes felt glued shut. A roaring filled her ears, like the ocean surf on Vancouver’s shores. She liked the beach. Was it summer yet? It felt warm… could Daddy take her swimming?
She was supposed to be doing something important, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Her entire body hurt… she was so tired. Was she sick? Mother would always bring her oatmeal when she was in bed sick, laced with brown sugar and little bits of apple. No matter how naggy she was the rest of the time, when her children were sick she put it all aside.
Wǒ xiǎngniàn nǐ, Māmā.
She wanted to sleep, but a persistent beeping was cutting through the noise in her mind. An alarm clock? No… no, it had to do with the important thing she was supposed to be doing, didn’t it? It didn’t matter – if she wanted to sleep she had to do something about it.
It hurt to open her eyes. The world swam around her, and she felt like she was going to barf. She briefly forgot that her arm was broken, and cried out as she put weight on it – but the shot of pain cleared away some of the fog in her mind. She realized she was still on the bridge of the Hunter ship.
The self-destruct. The ship is going to explode.
It crossed her mind to let it happen. Just lay down, go to sleep… never wake back up. So many problems solved all at once. The Dominion would be happy.
Myun wouldn’t. Ayma wouldn’t.
Xiù struggled to stand, nearly falling over several times. The deck rocked treacherously underneath her feet. The beeping seemed to surge and fade; her vision was still watery, so she let the sound guide her in the right direction. She nearly tripped over the dead Hunter leader.
The beeping was climbing in pitch… that was probably bad. She could see blurry symbols changing on the panel, probably counting down in whatever weird language it used. The panel was roughly at the level of her chest… Āi ya, she hated being short! She reached out with her bleeding arm, grasping at buttons, trying to figure out which would turn the self-destruct off – if it could be turned off at all!
She had no idea which control was the right one, so she started randomly slapping at anything in reach. Her head hurt, and her vision was getting worse… blackness was creeping in along the edges. Finally she hit a button that caused the countdown symbols to stop changing.
Good enough… she was satisfied. Xiù let the darkness take her.
Regaari stormed through the corridors of the Rich Plains on his way to the bridge. His left arm hung limply at his side; he hadn’t been hit directly by the pulse blast, but the nimbus was enough to shatter his elbow. He’d find out later if it could be repaired or if he’d be looking at a replacement – right now, he had things to take care of. The pain wasn’t useful, so he ignored it, gripping his rifle tightly in his good hand.
The broad doors leading to the bridge parted before him. Like everything else the bridge was scaled for Guvnuragnaguvendrugun, so Regaari wouldn’t have been surprised if the bridge crew – most Rrrrtktktkp’ch – sometimes indulged in outdoor sports in the vast area. On the forward screen the Hunter assault ship was visible; a menacing but oddly idle thing hanging in space.
The captain turned at the Gaoian’s entrance. “Officer Regaari! What is the status of-”
“Why have we not docked with the Hunter ship?” Regaari interrupted. He gestured at the screen with his pulse rifle. “Sister Xiù is still aboard, and the fact that the Hunters haven’t resumed their assault means she still has them occupied! We must take the initiative!”
“What?” A’tkrnnmtktk’ki said, horrified. “You want me to dock to a Hunter ship? Voluntarily?”
“Yes,” Regaari said flatly. “But, by all means,” he brought up the pulse rifle in his good arm, “consider `involuntarily’ an option.”
Ayma wet the cloth in her paw and gently cleaned the blood from Xiù’s face. When the team returned from braving the innards of the Hunter raiding ship (a team mostly made up of Gaoians, she thought proudly), it was bearing Xiù’s inert form, requiring all of them to lift. At first she didn’t know where the keening was coming from… then Regaari had looked at her, and she realized the sound was coming from herself.
“She’s alive, Mother Ayma,” he’d said. His arm hung loosely at his side, and he wasn’t able to help carry the injured human, but he’d demanded the right to go along and offer his rifle. “But we must get her to the medical bay quickly.”
They hurried toward the medical centre, and Ayma dashed ahead to find a hovercart and bring it to them. Once Xiù was laid out on the cart they could move much faster… and it was easier to see Xiù’s injuries, which made it so much worse. Crimson blood leaked from the human’s nose, mouth, and even her eyes, and it was horrible to see.
She gently held Xiù’s hand, running alongside the hovercart, until they entered the medical bay. Then she found herself roughly pushed aside.
“Get out of the way!” demanded Tragh, the shipboard doctor. Ayma almost slashed at him with her claws, but Regaari caught her before she could do anything rash.
“Come, Mother Ayma, which can watch from out of the way,” he said, gently ushering her to the side, near the wall where he’d propped his pulse rifle.
The Corti’s black, bottomless eyes cast over the Gaoian officer. “You require attention, Officer Regaari. One of my assistants will treat you.”
“I will wait for you to become available.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The human will occupy my efforts-”
“I will wait, Doctor,” Regaari replied. His ears were flicked forward nonchalantly, but his teeth bared briefly, and his good paw rested on the butt of his rifle. “Only the best for me.”
Tragh snorted. “Very well, but if your stubbornness costs you your arm don’t complain to me later.” Then the Corti was gesturing impatiently at his assistants, under the watchful – and slightly hostile – gaze of the two Gaoians.
Time lost meaning as they watched the Corti and his team work on Xiù. Words were tossed around that Ayma didn’t like the sound of: “cerebral hemorrhaging”, “internal bleeding”, and “bone fracture”… but the steady confidence of Tragh was comforting, even if she didn’t much care for his species.
Eventually the Corti put away his instruments and dismissed the others, sending them off to deal with the other, less pressing injuries that had been suffered among the crew. Tragh pushed Xiù’s bed over himself, where the hovering platform automatically connected to the display on the wall, showing the unconscious human’s vitals on the holographic panel.
The Corti turned to the pair of Gaoians. “Now, Officer Regaari, shall we see if your stubbornness has resulted in permanent nerve damage?”
“Sister Xiù will recover?” the male asked.
“Of course,” the Corti sniffed. “She had me treating her.”
Regaari sighed at the doctor’s arrogance, but let him lead him over to another hoverbed to have his elbow examined. Ayma crept over to Xiù’s bed, looking down at the deceptively fragile figure. The skin of her face was pale, paler than Ayma had ever seen, and it made the bruising around Xiù’s eyes all the more lurid. Her forearm was in an anti-kinetic brace, preventing it from moving while the human’s bones mended themselves, while the other was wrapped in regenerative bandages.
Of all the injuries, Ayma found herself concerned for Xiù’s arm… the bandages should prevent scarring, but she would worry until she could see for herself. She didn’t want her friend to suffer permanent damage for having saved all of them. For all that Xiù was giving and selfless, she could be surprisingly vain about her appearance… the way she’d worry about her head-fur and skin (and the odd and funny “treatments” she’d devised for both) had been the subject of good-natured teasing back at the commune.
Ayma sighed, pressing some buttons on the wall which caused a chair to pop out and reconfigure itself to her anatomy. Sitting down, she prepared to wait.
Her vigil remained undisturbed. Most of the worst injuries – the ones that didn’t mean instant death – had already been treated, and the rest were minor things which didn’t require a prolonged stay in the medical bay. The odd crewmember would look over curiously at the lone human and her Gaoian guard, but Ayma would glare at them until they scurried off. Regaari merely gave her a nod as he left the bay, his arm encased in his own brace – apparently Tragh had judged the joint as salvageable. Ayma nodded back in gratitude.
The crew who wandered by to see the injured human – yes, humans could be hurt! – angered Ayma, but the sapients she didn’t see angered her to the point of spitting. Where was Furfeg? Where was the Rich Plains’ captain? They owed their lives, the continued existence of their ship, to the human laying on the hoverbed beside her! They could at least check on her!
Eventually the events of the day and her anger wore the Gaoian Mother out, and she fell asleep in the chair, comforted by the presence of another female.
“Ayma?” The Gaoian jerked awake. She blinked and looked over to find Xiù’s head turned toward her, her dark eyes glittering in the medical bay’s lights.
Ayma stood, trying not to notice how the bruises around Xiù’s eyes had darkened. She reached a paw out and took hold of the human’s hand. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”
Xiù glanced around the bay with the hollow curiosity of complete exhaustion. “We won?” she rasped.
It was on the tip of her muzzle to say “you won”, but she knew better. “Yes, we did.”
“How many?”
She squeezed Xiù’s hand softly – not that even her full strength would be noticeable to the human. “Sixteen. But another two hundred are safe. Rest, Xiù, and get better.” She leaned in, speaking quietly. “The physician is Corti, but he’s passed the vetting process required to work for Furfeg. And I’ll be keeping an eye on him.”
Xiù shifted her arms, her expression turning quizzical as she noticed the small humming units and its attached feeds on her arm.
“An infuser,” Ayma explained. “It’s providing moisture and nutrients to you until you are well enough to eat unaided.” She hesitated, then forced some joviality into her voice. “Really, Xiù… the distances you’ll go to avoid eating your nutrient spheres…“
Xiù blinked slowly, then smiled. “It seemed easier than getting them to cook my food properly.”
“Well, you’re turning my fur white before my time.”
“Can’t have that… not if you’re going to seduce Regaari.”
Her muzzle dropped open. “Xiù!” she sputtered.
Further proving the stars were out to get her, the subject of Xiù’s jibe chose that moment to walk in. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Good morning.”
“Morning?” Ayma glanced at the time displayed above Xiù’s hoverbed. Had she really slept half a day?
Regaari came to a stop next to them. He ducked his head in greeting to both females, but particularly deeply to Xiù. “Sister Xiù. I’m glad to see you awake.” Her eyes looked at his arm, and he lifted it with a small wince of pain. “Winged by a Hunter pulse blast,” he explained, almost sheepishly. “The joint won’t need to be replaced, although I must keep it immobilized for a couple of ten-days at least. It could have been much worse.” Ayma shuddered in agreement… “worse” when it came to Hunters didn’t necessarily mean dying.
He hesitated. “Related to that, Mother Ayma… I must speak to you.” She gestured, but he shook his head. “No… alone, please.”
The slender strips of fur over Xiù’s eyes lifted, and Ayma knew the human well enough to interpret the gesture. “Don’t start,” she admonished, drawing a weak grin from Xiù and a confused look from Regaari. “Very well, Officer Regaari, we can speak in the corner there. As for you,” she pointed at Xiù, “go to sleep.”
“Yes, Mother,” Xiù replied with a whine that could have come from Myun, though her lips were tilted to indicate humor. Her eyelids drooped obediently.
Ayma walked through the corridors of the ship, making friendly gestures to the crew she passed. They were all stressed and harried, and she had no desire to add to their burdens. So she hid the anger that seethed inside her, the desire to hiss and spit right there in the middle of the corridor. She knew if she started she’d likely end up sedated in the medical bay next to Xiù.
She’d had to consult a shipboard map to find Furfeg’s quarters. They were located near the greenhouse in the belly of the ship, the place a Guvnuragnaguvendrugun would feel most comfortable. Well, he wouldn’t feel comfortable for long if she had any say. When she approached the doors she barely waited for them to slide open, plowing in without regard for protocol or politeness.
Furfeg sat near a large table, his bulk resting on a bench. A’tkrnnmtktk’ki stood nearby… likely giving the diplomat a report on the state of the Rich Plains. Both looked up as she entered, the captain’s long slender neck swinging around in surprise.
“Ah, Mother Ayma,” Furfeg began, “I was just speaking to the captain about the disposition of the Hunter ship-”
“Get out,” she told A’tkrnnmtktk’ki.
“Excuse me?” the uniformed Rrrrtktktkp’ch replied, blinking at being ordered about on his own ship.
“You heard me. I will speak to Diplomat Furfeg, and I don’t think he will want you here for it.”
A’tkrnnmtktk’ki gave the huge diplomat an incredulous look, but Furfeg was watching Ayma carefully.
Eventually the great shaggy head bobbed in assent. “I think it best if I speak with her, Yhjjrrtknk. Signal the Dominion Fleet and have them deal with the derelict. I think it best it be towed back to Gao, but I’ll leave it to your superiors to decide.”
“I-” The captain paused. “Very well.” His long neck bowed briefly to Furfeg, and again to Ayma. The large door whispered as he left.
Furfeg waited until the door sealed before speaking again. “Very well, Mother Ayma, what can-”
“Why did you change the transponder frequency?” she demanded.
His flanks turned soft orange. “Pardon?”
She stomped toward him, not caring that he was nearly three times her height. She pointed at the deck as if accusing it, and her claws peeked out of their sheaths. “The transponder frequency for this ship was changed when we left Gao! Changed at your orders!”
“That’s hardly unusual. Ships will change frequency depending on what sector they’re in, to avoid conflict with other vessels. It’s purely routine-”
“Except the frequency you changed it to is one that has been shown to have a correlation with Hunter attacks over the last two standard years! There are travel advisories warning against using it! The Hunters found us because we were waving a flag at them! Why?”
“Mother Ayma, I understand that you are quite upset, and understandably. Your friend lies injured-”
“My Sister lies injured!” she snapped. “Injured saving all of us, including you!” Her voice became a growl as she snarled and spit. “You’ve been involved with Gaoians for nearly thirty standard years. You know what will happen if I decide you had any hand in those injuries, directly or not!”
He watched her carefully. His flanks had turned a pale grey. “She is not Gaoian,” he said.
“She was not born on Gao, but she is my Sister!”
“There it is!” He surged to his feet, his bench nearly toppling. His bulk loomed over her, and she was suddenly intensely aware of how small she was. His wide-set eyes blazed, and he pointed at her with a shaggy arm. His flanks glowed a bright blue… jubilant! “That is what I need, Mother Ayma! That is what we’ll all need!”
Ayma took a timid step back. “W-what?”
The big herbivore began to pace his quarters. “Do you ever wonder how a species like the humans could have ever survived long enough to become sapient?”
“What? What does that have to do with-”
Furfeg rolled on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “They are ferociously competitive! They are hardly the first competitive species to arise in the galaxy… not even the first omnivores. But most species with such a mindset are either swarms – like the Hunters – or solitary in nature, like the Corti. The easiest way to deal with competitors is either to destroy them, or avoid them. The humans have done neither… at least, not deliberately. Why do you think this is?”
“I-”
“They are neither herd animals nor solitary. They are small-group sociable. A human cannot stand to be alone, nor can they stand to be a nameless face in the crowd! They need to be surrounded by faces they know, by beings they care about and who care about them. They need family. The secret to their success is their families, and the fact that there is nothing they will not do for the sake of their family… and you, Mother Ayma, have made this discovery purely by accident.”
Furfeg was pacing his office, gesturing broadly. Ayma stood as still as possible; Guvnuragnaguvendrugun were herd animals, and a panicked herd animal was dangerous, no matter how civilized. Ayma could tell that Furfeg was treading the edge. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully, voice artificially calm.
“You found a human. And you adopted her. She is cut off from her species, her world, but your presence, your acceptance, salves the wound. This fear of the humans – we snatch them from their world. They’re experimented upon, then tossed aside, alone, and kept that way… and we wonder why so many act badly. For Xiù… her loyalty, this need for family and friendship, has transferred to you and your clan. There is nothing she would not do for her family. We’ve seen that.”
She didn’t like how cynical and exploitative he made that sound. “The Gaoian people are no different. We stand with our clans.”
“Exactly! Exactly! Your people are unique in the galaxy to understand the humans! And that understanding may save us all!”
“Furfeg, you’re not making any sense!”
He halted his pacing, and his flanks rippled with grey, dark blue with spots of white, and green. Resignation; misery; fear. “My people have made a mistake, Mother Ayma. A terrible mistake, and I don’t think they’ve even realized it. Councillor Vedreg suspects, perhaps, but even he was unable to prevent it from happening.”
Ayma completely agreed, but it was clear that there was more to it. “What kind of mistake?” she asked carefully.
Furfeg paused, visibly putting his words together. “If one of my people was taken by the Corti, we would regret the loss but be more concerned with the safety of our people as a whole… we would not pursue the matter in the interests of protecting our people in total. The Corti themselves hardly care if one of their own is kidnapped or killed. Two different approaches, but the same end result.” Ayma bobbed her head to show her understanding. “Now… what would happen if I were to threaten you in front of your commune? Or Officer Regaari in front of his clan?”
She hesitated. “You… would likely regret it.”
“Exactly! If you were alone, you would simply avoid or escape the situation. A threat to your people is too abstract! But if someone were to threaten you or your sisters in view of the others, you would act. You will defend your clan, your families. And like in so very many things, the humans have the same traits, taken to the extreme.” He halted, and his sides flushed dark blue spotted with white, like stars in an evening sky. The translator gave his voice a quake when he spoke again. “My people have imprisoned seven billion humans. And almost every single one of those humans has family they care about.”
Suddenly Furfeg’s near-panic was quite understandable. “Then… why the transponder, Furfeg?”
He gestured helplessly. “Xiù was the perfect human to plead their case before the Council, Mother Ayma. She is quiet, friendly… calm, but not cold. Open to new ideas, as shown by her adaptation to your society. She is not threatening, as so many humans seem to be. But I needed more.”
“More? What more?”
“I needed a hero. I-I swear to you, I did not expect so massive a Hunter response. The human encountered by Councillor A’ktnnzzik’tk – Jenkins – easily dealt with the crew of a standard Hunter pack-ship. I thought… I thought to recreate the situation. Let Xiù prove herself a hero, let her prove her loyalty to you. Restraint is easier to respect when you can glimpse the power behind it.”
Ayma found herself following his logic… it made sense – in a weird, distorted way. “And now sixteen of the crew are dead. You nearly killed us all.”
“I’m trying to save us all!” he roared. She couldn’t keep up with the colours cycling along his sides. “The humans are going to get loose, Mother Ayma! Escape is impossible, but to a human the impossible is merely an inconvenience! And when they do, they’ll want revenge, revenge for all the families we threatened!” A great, shaggy arm pointed at her. “We have to bring that shield down before their anger grows too concentrated! And when they emerge, the only way to defeat them will be the way Gao did… not with fire, but with friendship!”
She stared at him, words eluding her. He dropped his arm but said no more, his sides heaving as he breathed heavily. “I… understand your motivation, Furfeg,” she said carefully. “But this… this is not the way. Being human does not mean she is immune to fear! What if she had stayed in our quarters, exactly as I advised?”
“Then we would have been lost, but merely sooner rather than later,” he replied, his flanks the colour of misery and resignation. “The humans have many wise sayings, Mother Ayma. One is: Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear. Another is: Heroes are not born, they are made. I needed to make a hero.”
She sighed. “And so you have.” Her ears tilted in regret, realizing she was implicitly going along with his plan.
His chromatic strips turned purple with sincere gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was still sombre as he continued. “We will need to guide this correctly, to put her actions in their best, proper light. The Gaoians onboard won’t be an issue, but-”
He halted as his data tablet chimed with an incoming call. Grumbling, he walked over to tap it. “Yes?”
“Ambassador Furfeg, this is the Captain.”
“I gathered that. What is it, Yhjjrrtknk? I’m in the middle of an important discussion.”
“This is more important, Ambassador,” the captain responded sharply, and Ayma’s ears flicked in surprise at the tone. “We’ve received a message, general broadcast, sent via the Emergency Notification System.”
“The Emerg- What is the message?”
“Message is as follows: Ultimatum from hunters: demand all humans be turned over else quote Swarm of Swarms endquote will raid known human locations.” The captain hesitated. “All ships, stations carrying human passengers advised: jettison immediately. The message ends there.”
“What?” Ayma snarled.
“Ambassador, what are your instructions? Ambassador?”
Furfeg stabbed his tablet with a huge furry finger. His legs wobbled, and he slumped down onto his bench. “We’re doomed,” he said hollowly. “Even if we bring down the shield, it’ll look to the humans like we’re just saving our own skins… and feeding them to the Swarm! And if we don’t… We’re doomed!”
Ayma spit. “No, Furfeg… we’re saved. Stand up! You wanted heroes… now you have seven billion of them! It’s time to give them their chance!”
“We… we can’t possibly go to the Council now, Ayma! I’m not even certain I can keep Xiù safe on this ship!”
She hesitated. “Then we’ll leave,” she replied finally.
“To where? Back to Gao?”
She shook her head. “No… I don’t think even Xiù would allow it once she learns of this. We’ll… figure it out. Forgive me, but I think it best if you don’t know.”
He nodded. “I understand. I’ll have the Captain’s Yacht loaded with as many nutrition spheres as it can hold, as well as medical supplies.”
“The Captain’s Yacht?” Ayma said, surprised. It was a large shuttle down in the landing bay… normally intended for ferrying dignitaries. It was comfortable and long-range… ideal for their purposes, but- “Are you allowed to give that to us?”
Furfeg’s flanks flushed red. “The Dominion can bill me.”