Warp World (67 page)

“Sounds about stupid enough,” Fismar said.

“Hopefully the ones we’re going after didn’t inherit their ancestors’ cunning and bravery,” Cerd said. “If they do this to their own spawn—” He gestured to Hephier, who was sinking into unconsciousness, thanks to Elarn. “—Nen only knows what they do to their enemies.”

Fismar snorted. “Where do you think you are? Trust me, Mascom, you don’t want to get taken alive by anybody on this planet.” He pulled up a digipad and projected the image of Julewa. “Time to get to work. Elarn, can you get my chatterer tuned for the next questioning session?”

Ama turned to watch the sleeping boy as Seg and the others conferred. What if they had not found him? The boy’s life, and possibly all their lives, could hang on that fateful meeting. Seg would dismiss the notion, but she couldn’t help feeling as if there was more at work here than chance. Just then, a quiet voice came from close behind.

“Is he okay?” Tirnich said.

“He will be now,” Ama said. “You saved his life.”

“Just lucky.” Tirnich flashed the drexla tooth hanging from his neck. “Nen protects.”

Ama’s eyes roamed to the waterless expanse. How could Nen exist here?

Shan shifted to one side, as her left butt cheek numbed. She would be happy when her furniture no longer consisted of only rocks and dirt.

Fismar, lit by the downcast glow of his lifted visor, finished his speech and the Outers chanted “
Take theirs, make it ours
” loud enough to stir a lurkiya out of hiding. Thank the Storm it was over.

Shan stretched her arms over her head and tilted her head to crack her neck. There would be no sleep tonight.

If Fis’s goal had been to get these savages ready to charge into battle, she had to admit he had succeeded brilliantly. The minute he had started in on how the Etis were treating their children—hoarding the young girls for breeding, physically abusing the boys and kicking them out as soon as they were old enough to be considered competition—the crowd had started frothing at the mouth. By the time he got to the part where the Etis would lock away the women and kids as soon as they were under attack, and then set a torch to them all if it looked like the Keep would fall, she seriously thought all fifty of them might go screaming off right then and attack the Keep on foot.

The boss had been quiet. No surprise there. If she ever saw that man show an emotion she might faint from the shock. Even so, his plan was a good one. Two of the Outers, disguised as wasteland trash, would carry an offering to the Keep. According to what Eraranat had learned from the Bendure kid, this was the way you asked to trade with the Eti fanatics. If the Etis took the bait, they would unwittingly carry the grabber right into their home. After that, it was all a matter of locking them out of their own systems and getting these Outers in to clean house before the Eti men de-popped the women and kids. Or, worse, blew the Keep sky high.

She elbowed Ama, whose eyes were on Eraranat.

“Look sharp, copie, we’ve got a long night ahead,” Shan said.

“I’m ready.” Ama made all the motions of paying attention but Shan was no idiot. The boss was headed back to Cathind, right into the rigla’s lair, first thing in the morning. Likely the last they’d see of him. He and Ama had been sneaking glances all night, every time one thought the other one wasn’t looking.

The Outers were breaking off into groups according to their assigned tasks; it was time for her and Ama to do the same.

“We got a list as long as my leg of things that need to be fixed on that beast, but this is all about priorities,” she said to Ama. “First, and most important, is the EW—the Electronic Warfare console. You’ll be monitoring that. When the grabber takes hold, it’ll shoot us a signal. Our cue to get airborne.”

She rattled off a short but critical list of the systems they would need to double and triple check before morning. All the major repairs were done; the rest would have to wait.

“As long as that rust bucket can take off, fly, shoot out the Eti guns to clear us a path to the landing pad, and land to dump off the meat, that’s as much as we need,” Shan said. She stood and stretched again. “Stuff like the enviro controls can wait until we’re all settled into our new home. Besides, your Outer pals are getting used to sweating, I think.”

Ama nodded. Shan fought the urge to shake her.

A shrill whistle made her turn her head. Viren the Big Mouth was sauntering in her direction.

“Oh karg,” she muttered. “Time to get moving.”

“My lady of the sky!” Big Mouth trilled as he jogged to her side. “The battle approaches!”

“Thanks for stating the obvious.” Shan grabbed Ama’s arm to direct her to the rider and away from this pest.

“You do realize, I may die tomorrow,” Big Mouth said.

“Good.”

“On my world, it’s a tradition to offer a warrior a farewell kiss,” Big Mouth said.

“Go kiss a rigla.”

“You can’t resist my charms forever!” He winked and headed back to his Outer crew with that obnoxious grin he was always flashing at her.

“Watch me, pig,” Shan muttered. “Ugh, that brainless sack of meat. I hope he’s the first casualty.”

“Viren’s not as bad as you think,” Ama said.

“Yes, he is.”

“On my world, he risked his life to save Seg, and he fought at the temple.”

Shan twirled her finger in the air. “Someone give him a medal.”

“And he was the only one, except me, who believed you would come back for us.” Ama stopped and, against her better judgement, Shan turned to face her. “Viren said you’d never back down from a challenge. Lieutenant Fismar wasn’t happy. I think he was ready to toss him out.”

“Well …” Shan tried for a noncommittal shrug. “Even morons get it right sometimes. Now, come on.”

They walked past Fismar’s second, Cerd, who was outlining a planned path through the Keep, to three of the squads. Something about that particular Outer always made her uneasy. But he hated Big Mouth as much as she did, which was a point in his favor.

“I don’t envy the stompers, running right into the bowels of that old rock.” Shan jerked her chin toward Cerd and his squads. “Once we’ve cleared a path through the guns and settle on the pad, the hard part’s over for us. Definitely some perks to being a skyrider.”

“What about the missiles?” Ama asked.

About time she snapped out of it
, Shan thought.

“That’s part of what the grabber’s going to do for us—lock them out of their systems long enough for us to take out the defenses. We won’t have the time or the artillery to blast them all, but we can clear a path to the landing pad.”

To the left, Elarn was crouched over his med kit with the one-armed Outer. They were laughing at some shared joke. Shan raised an eyebrow as Elarn laid a hand on the Outer’s shoulder. Fis had told her these backward Outers would cut off their own heads before they’d admit to being flip, but this one always lit up around Elarn in a way you’d have to be blind to miss.

“Blood for water!”

Shan swung her head to the right. The kid, Tirnich, was huddled with his squad. Storm but he looked so young, and far too trusting. Him and the other skinny Outer kid had been tapped for delivering the grabber.

“Nen protect, my brothers,” Ama said.

Shan was about to shake her head—her tolerance limit for Outer nonsense was being sorely tested out here—but the younger kid, Slopper, was looking up at her with that goofy face of his all pleading and scared. Did he think she had some magic power to keep the Eti lunatics from disembowelling him if Eraranat’s little gift didn’t satisfy them?

“Remember, don’t run in a straight line if they start shooting. Harder to hit you if your movements are unpredictable,” Shan said. Now
there
was some useful advice. A damn sight better than all this god babble.

There was a long silence before Tirnich said thanks and the Outers went back to talking.

The rider was dark. Out here, they couldn’t waste power or risk being spotted. Shan climbed the ramp to enter, reciting specs for the EW console for Ama, as she powered up the board. When she turned, she expected to find her co-pilot at her elbow, hovering too close, the way she always did. Instead, she saw Ama standing at the base of the ramp, staring toward the field headquarters where the boss and Fis were squaring up the final details.

This wasn’t the time for this shit. After they had the Keep, and the boss was back from Cathind, then—

“Karg.” Shan tromped back down the ramp. “Go! I can start the EW systems check without you.”

Ama turned to face her, eyes overflowing with emotion. Shan wasn’t sure if she pitied or envied the girl. Maybe both.

“Just make it quick, okay?”

Ama jogged off.

“Well …” Shan looked around the empty rider, “looks like it’s just you and me,
Defiant
.”

Seg entered the command tent and looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was within earshot before he spoke. Since he and Ama had been reunited with his lieutenant and the Kenda guard, every day had been consumed with planning or survival. Now that the plans were in place, the battle imminent, there was a discussion that required attention.

“Lieutenant,” Seg said.

Fismar, hovered over a digipad, turned to face him and, noting Seg’s expression, stood, drew his feet together, raised his head, and clasped his hands behind his back. His expression was blank, focused somewhere over Seg’s shoulder. “Theorist?”

“Either Medical Fataleh is incompetent, or I was not given the full results of Ama’s examination.” Ice wrapped Seg’s words.

Fismar stared at a point past Seg’s shoulder. “Elarn is as good as they come. The examination was thorough and complete, and the inaccuracy of the report was entirely my doing, Theorist.”

Seg stepped closer to Fismar. “Why?”

“I made the judgment that you had enough problems at the time. Kalder’s sterilization was a bad piece of work, but posed no threat to her or the troops.” Even as Seg’s face loomed before his, he stared past him, his body locked and rigid.

“Lieutenant Korth.” Seg’s words came out with slow, clear precision. “One way or another, we are establishing an independent polity in this land, where we will be surrounded by enemies. I need my closest advisors and subordinates to be absolutely trustworthy and reliable.”

“I understand that, Theorist,” Fismar said. “I have no excuses for my error.”

Seg moved slightly to the side, finally catching Fismar’s eyes. “In the future, you will not under any circumstances withhold
any
information pertinent to the disposition of my people or the situations we encounter. Is this very, very clear?”

“It is.” Fismar’s voice dropped almost to a near whisper.

“Is there anything else of importance that you have withheld from me? If so, tell me now.”

Fismar was silent for several seconds. “Nothing, Theorist.”

Seg stepped back. “I won’t stand for another disappointment.”

“Understood.”

Problem resolved, Seg turned to retrieve his own digipad.

“You haven’t told her,” Fismar said.

The statement stopped him. Seg felt a frown dig into his face and an uncomfortable tightness grip his stomach. “No, I haven’t.”

The ensuing silence brought to the surface all the arguments Seg had already fought with himself over this matter. He owed his lieutenant no explanation and yet he found himself providing exactly that.

“I only learned of this at the Haffset Victory Commemoration, from Processor Gressam.” His teeth clenched at the name. “Since that time, there hasn’t been a g—” He hesitated there.
Good
was not the word. “There hasn’t been a
proper
time for me to explain it to her.”

“Tough situation,” Fismar said.

“I failed her. Completely. As a leader. As …” His voice deserted him.