Alien Shores (A Fenris Novel, Book 2) (5 page)

4

Chengal Ras the 109th watched the large screen in Attack Talon
Valiant
. He had a three-Kresh crew in the control chamber with him. Outlying modules held a host of human techs and psi-able personnel, and a squad of Vomags for special purposes.

He was several inches taller than nine Earth feet, and rested his raptor-like bulk against an upright station. It was a Kresh acceleration couch. A dry, musky odor pervaded the chamber. Like the others here, Chengal Ras was huge but graceful, poised on two large legs, each ending with curved talons. He wore metallic streamers from his waist and neck, and wore smaller streamers around his two arms. The arms ended in smaller talons like large fingers, three of them. Chengal Ras wore a belt around his dinosaur-like waist. From it dangled various weapons and control devices.

“There is an urgent call for you, Excellency,” one of the crew said.

“Put her on the main screen,” Chengal Ras said.

The wreckage of the needle-ship disappeared. In its place appeared the image of Zama Dee the 73rd, a philosopher king—one of the Hundred. She was in charge of the moon of Jassac. She was large, with an old core burn across her snout, a whitish color that did not look good against her yellow and black hide.

“The Creator has granted you a safe voyage?” Zama Dee asked.

“I bless His kindness, yes,” Chengal Ras said.

“You are wise.”

“You are radiant.”

Zama Dee clicked the talons of her right arm, indicating the ritual greeting at end. Behind her, an unclassified human carried a package, stepping into and out of visual. “My observers inform me you have fired a class-three laser at a survival boat entering Jassac orbit.”

“It is so,” Chengal Ras said.

“I would like an explanation for this aggressive behavior.”

“Of course,” Chengal Ras said. “I was about to inform you.” He did not glance at his crew. They were vetted, but he hadn’t taken any of them into his confidence. “I have conducted an emergency seek-and-destroy mission. I postulated an escapee from High Station 3, giving the stealth-craft several days’ lead time. My crew acted flawlessly, finding and destroying the small vessel. I am in the process now of awarding codex points.” He added the last for his crew’s benefit, letting them realize that he would award the points for their silence as to the true nature of the chase.

“I see,” Zama Dee said. “On the face of it, I find it odd that a near Hundred such as you would engage in such a routine endeavor. Perhaps you are collecting data for a new treatise?”

“I am in the process of collating ideas for a new paper, yes, but not concerning security work. I have found it practical to engage in routine endeavors as a reminder, a memory aid to myself.”

“I do not follow your reasoning.”

“I am not in the Hundred,” Chengal Ras said.

“No,” Zama Dee said. “I do not accept humility from you. Your zeal for . . . ah,
knowledge
, shall we say, is well known.”

Chengal Ras grew wary. He could not believe that Zama Dee would so openly sneer at him. Yes, he strove to enter the Hundred. He did not mask that. His zeal, as she said, caused many to scorn him and belittle his efforts. He did that for a reason. Their scorn kept them from examining his actions too closely. Since he couldn’t keep his zeal hidden—most would reason—he could not keep anything hidden. They were wrong. How wrong he would show them soon enough, if the Creator kept out of his way.

“Your stealth-craft came near my authorized ice-hauler corridor,” Zama Dee was saying. “It could have caused an incident.”

“I thank the Creator it did not,” Chengal Ras said.

Zama Dee closed her mouth and eyed him critically. “Return to High Station 3, or wherever it is that you practice your syllogisms. We do serious work on Jassac for the furtherance of the Race. I do not approve of unsolicited laser fire here.”

“I have overstepped myself—”

“Desist! I do not have time to listen to . . . to your excuses.”

Chengal Ras bristled. Would she openly mock him before his crew? This was unseemly, a challenge to his authority, to his status.

“I must return to my laboratory. Thus, I am leaving,” she said.

“May radiance shine on you,” Chengal Ras managed to say.

A moment later the connection ended, and the large screen retuned to showing the wreckage of the needle-ship.

Not for the first time, Chengal Ras made a mental note of one of the Hundred who would taste his wrath in the days of his elevation. He would remind Zama Dee of her mockery as he dismembered her limbs and removed her organs. He would ask her to mock him then.

“The two High Station 3 cattle are free-falling toward Jassac, Excellency,” Dez Rek said. She was the Attack Talon’s pilot and ranked 828,002nd.

Chengal Ras made no reply. He could see that for himself quite well.

“Should I contact Jassac Central?” Dez Rek asked.

Chengal Ras knew a moment of igniting rage as the tip of his tail twitched. Could the pilot have actually formulated those words? She had just heard his conversation with Zama Dee. Yes, the pilot was ranked high enough that he would expect her to be more intelligent. She must have realized he had diverted from full disclosure of the truth for a critical reason.

Yet now she suggested he tell Jassac Central, which meant tell Zama Dee, about the two prized cattle? Either the pilot tested him—a bad idea for one in her position—or she played a deeper game. He must tease out her reasoning and act accordingly.

“Your suggestion is premature,” Chengal Ras told her.

“The cattle have entered the Jassac atmosphere,” Dez Rek said. “The Concordat Treatise of Fifty-Two Sigma declares we are honor-bound to inform the governing authority of such an event. Our window for subterfuge has legally ended.”

Chengal Ras turned away from the screen, the better to regard
Valiant
’s pilot. He had not anticipated Dez Rek’s attempt to climb rank this soon in her apprenticeship. She tried to push him, tried to force her will against his. He had already openly hinted of bribing them with codex points to remain silent. Logically, since there were three of them, it could only be a small number of points for each. Now it appeared she attempted a greater gain. Granted, it seemed like an opportune moment for her to inflict the concordat on him. She must surmise his desire to keep this secret for as long as he could. Yet might she have a stealth contract with Zama Dee?

He should have studied her profile in greater depth.

“Excellency,” she said, showing her lack of remorse, “I should note for the record that the two strays have engaged the antigravity sled. I compute a 63 percent chance of success on their part. Jassac Central would wish to know about High Station 3 strays on their game preserve.”

The other two Kresh in the chamber kept silent. By their stances, Chengal Ras knew they listened keenly to the exchange. There was a reason he hadn’t taken any of them into his confidence yet. Oh, yes, there was a most logical and precise reason why he flew alone among the Kresh.

He had attained the dizzying rank of 109th far in advance of others his age. He had climbed with quickness, trampling any who stood in his way. It was true he had a sharply logical mind even for a Kresh. His papers and treatises were legendary among the younger set. And his stubbornness of purpose—it was greater than all but the highest ten.

Even with all that in his favor, he had climbed higher and faster than a Kresh like him should have been able to achieve.

The explanation was simple. He had been born on the outer asteroids to the Seven Sisters, and therefore been a declared rogue. During his formative years, the Hundred had also declared the Seven as outcast, hunting and slaughtering them one by one. Due to his age, Chengal Ras had been spared after his capture, and they had given him a second-class education in the 2020 Gymnasium, a place of decidedly inferior quality.

Seething at the indignity of the constant slights and the setbacks of his life, he had sworn a secret oath. He would climb and beat the best of them. Three years later, Chengal Ras had discovered a shortcut to rank. With logical and unerring precision, he had taken it.

In a word—two words—he cheated.

He obeyed the honor codes and customs of the Kresh
most
of the time. He departed the codes and customs at strategic moments of pregnant opportunity. This possibly was such a time. Now a climber in his personal retinue chose to reveal herself. It was too soon. She should have waited for maximum gain and to protect her life. Now he would have to make a deal with her or he would have to take a drastic step.

The odds for advancement here were astronomical. In fact, he believed this the opportunity of a lifetime. Once one reached the final thousand, higher rank became most difficult to achieve. Reaching 109th was a fantastic feat. To get even one rank higher would be many times harder than what he had achieved so far.

Therefore, he would give Dez Rek one chance to reform. He didn’t believe there was anything he could say to change her opinion. He would have to let her own mind do the arguing for her.

Thus he waited, watching the two cattle attempt a landing at high velocity and with a single antigravity sled to aid them. Under normal circumstances, he would not give them high odds. These two, however, were different. Dez Rek must have considered that while computing their odds. They were unique specimens. The one actually came from out-system, much, much farther than the outer asteroids. Cattle inquisitors had discovered the name of the humanoid’s home system: Sol, two hundred and thirty light years distant. These cattle were different from the machine-oriented humanoids that had attacked Fenris several years ago.

Yes, these two had escaped out of High Station 3. It had been cleverly done, with aid from the vermin, the Humanity Ultimates in the slums.

“Excellency,” Dez Rek said, “time is critical.”

Chengal Ras gazed at her. She would persist. She was a climber, indeed. He had gauged her wrongly. That was unusual. He had a gift for reading Kresh and for reading cattle, too. Apparently, she did not understand that she could go farther riding his tail to greatness. She was an egotist. He knew the signs well, because he was a full-blown egotist himself. Under normal circumstances, the Hundred would have long ago ordered his destruction. He had hidden his gross egotism through what the highest considered buffoonery.

The Race could not long survive many category-one egotists in their midst. Chengal Ras had destroyed several category-two egotists in his time. One such was still in his employ, although not on
Valiant
. That was too bad.

“I do not wish to appear insistent,” Dez Rek said. “But time is limited, and these two are level-three hazards. They could possibly implement the Grand Rebellion as written by the Second.”

If the pilot tried to dazzle him with her knowledge, she failed dismally. Chengal Ras had not only read about the Grand Rebellion, he had added an addendum to it that had won him critical acclaim. In fact, it had propelled him from 110th to 109th. It was likely Dez Rek was aware of the addendum. A climber usually knew her selected target. Therefore, what was she hinting at?

“You are rational and rigorous,” Chengal Ras said. “I would reward you for your insight.”

The other two Kresh turned away from their stations to glance at him in surprise.

“The ribbons I’m wearing are too paltry to show my proper appreciation,” Chengal Ras said, indicating those on his body. “I would bring you a red.”

A red indicated many codex points. An accumulation of codex points was how one gained rank. He could only give her points out of his own vault. Therefore, Kresh only paid out points in a miserly manner.

“I . . . do not comprehend,” Dez Rek said.

He knew she did not because he had just acted out of character. He was counting on a climber’s greed to blind her long enough for him to act decisively. “It will take two minutes.”

“I will contact Jassac Central in your absence,” the pilot said.

“No. You will patch me through only while in my presence. One, I would have them record the codex points as I award them, as that is the proper ceremony. Two, it is my responsibility to tell Jassac Central of the danger.”

“This is true—” Dez Rek stopped abruptly. She had almost insulted him.

“Two minutes,” Chengal Ras said.

“Of course, Excellency,” Dez Rek said. “I await your commands.”

Chengal Ras stalked toward the hatch, with his talons scraping against the deck plates. He kept from glancing at the others. They might recognize his unease if they saw his eyes. This was a new step for him on his road to the Hundred. He knew that once he reached the exalted state, that he would attempt to gain entrance into the Ten. Still, to do what he planned . . . it was difficult for him. It would set him on the hard path to the top. Yet he must take it, for he refused to be denied preeminence. He would win, and he would do it at all costs.

This was a prime warship. The personnel were his best. He would miss them, including the crack soldiers, the Vomag cattle, and his best Bo Taw.

He should have taken a different Attack Talon.

Chengal Ras hardened his resolve as he entered a lift. He rode it down to a seldom-used corridor, strode to his special single-ship, and climbed into it. The hatch clanged shut behind him. Seconds went by, and sudden acceleration pressed him against the upright couch as the single-ship launched out of the Attack Talon and into space. He waited.

“Excellency,” Dez Rek said over a comm unit. “I have you on my scanner. You have left
Valiant
. May I ask why?”

“The answer should be obvious,” he said. He pressed a switch, and he waited a few moments longer.

“Excellency, I can only conclude—”

Dez Rek never had a chance to finish her thought. Attack Talon
Valiant
’s nuclear-powered engine detonated. Everyone aboard the ship died in the blast, including the three Kresh in the control chamber.

Chengal Ras exhaled sharply, riding ahead of the spreading radioactive zone. He had done it, and it felt evil to him. He shuddered and wished there could have been another way. Dez Rek had badly miscalculated and forced him to this. He sighed, and he pressed a beacon, summoning aid from Jassac Central.