Posleen War: Sidestories The Tuloriad (26 page)

The central hall of the C-Dec Arganaza'al went quiet as the first cosslain, leading a garlanded, bedecked normal, made its appearance at the main entrance. This was followed by another, and yet another, and still more until all seventeen had entered.

The procession wound around the edges of the hall, then broke up, with a trio of two cosslain and a normal going to each of the seventeen groups that stood in neat circles. The trio with the normal bearing an embroidered battle globe went to the center of the circle of Tulo'stenaloor and his closest followers, plus those the followers had invited as being especially worthy. Finba'anaga, favored of Goloswin, was among these last.

The normals, non-sentient as they were, were still upset by all the attention. Their claws scratched nervously at the metallic deck beneath them. The cosslain leading them patted their faces and made calming, cooing sounds.

“Rememberer?” Tulo called out, loudly enough for all present to hear.

That worthy, in full ceremonial harness replete with shining heavy metal and bearing an ancient, hand-written scroll in one hand and ceremonial stone weights in the other, backed off from Tulo's core group and walked steadily to a dais even then raising itself from the deck. From the dais came a slender podium. Upon this the Rememberer laid out his scroll, weighting the corners with his stones.

“A reading from the Scroll of Tenusaniar,” the Rememberer announced. Each kessentai present bowed his head, as did the cosslain in imitation.

“'Marooned were the People,” the Rememberer began, “marooned by command of those they held to be gods. Marooned were the People on a planet that could not support their numbers. Marooned were the People, and forced to consume little but the product of the food dispensers.”

"And with no outlet, and with no enemies, the numbers of the People grew and grew and grew beyond even the ability of the food dispensers to provide for.

"Worse, the planet of the People's exile was surrounded with automated defenses, of the kind the Aldenata had forbidden the People, but allowed to themselves. There was no escape but only the Hell of an eternity of sameness and shortage and hunger and pain.

“This was the payment of the Aldenata to those who had been most loyal to them.”

“And then one of the kessentai discovered a new way out, fraught with danger but invisible and invulnerable to the Aldenata's demonic defenses. That kessentai, whose name is known but to the spirits of the ancestors, had discovered 'tunneling' through space.”

The mass of God-kings present raised their muzzles as one, chanting, “All hail the unknown deliverer. All hail the knowledge he brought.”

“And then was the galaxy reopened . . .”

The Rememberer's reading and sermon were over. He said, “Let us sing a hymn of praise.”

The words were old, ancient beyond reckoning. Some were outright unintelligible. Yet all kessentai knew it.

"Hail deliverers, hail;

Who brought us safe from exile

And led us in our wanderings

Through the night

By our blood

To the light."

At that last line, each of the cosslain accompanying a normal drew a boma blade, lifting them high. The cosslain who led the normals reached into pouches and drew forth handfuls of grain. These they held low, causing the normals to bend their heads to eat from their hands.

"Long have we travelled, sires,

Seeking the things you sought."

At that word—“sought”—the Rememberer raised his claws high, then brought them down suddenly. This was the signal for each boma blade-wielding cosslain to swing his monomolecular sword down, severing seventeen normals' heads instantly, and essentially without pain. Yellow blood gushed from seventeen fountains. The normals' oddly jointed knees buckled as one, letting their headless bodies sink to the deck.

“And now,” said the Rememberer, “let us feast upon the bodies of those who have given their lives for us. And let us remember them as good beings, who served the People unto the last.”

Three ship days later the anti-matter engines once again drove the ship into transitspace. When it emerged, it was to . . .

“What the fuck?” Tulo asked, of no one in particular. His eyes were fixed on the genuinely bizarre apparition on the viewscreen.

Goloswin watched a smaller screen as the virus which he had almost succeeded in breaking once again mutated into something new. He had, so far, avoided looking up from the little screen to the larger one. After all, when the ship had popped out of transitspace in between the Orion and Sagittarius Arms of the galaxy, an empty place without stars or planets and therefore a place where the Posleen couldn't hope to refuel, Goloswin had simply assumed they were all dead.

He looked up now though. And rather wished he had not. There, on the screen, was a gas giant, where no gas giant should have been. But it wasn't just any gas giant. Oh, no; this one was an anti-matter gas giant. The sensors said as much, even as they tried to deny the possibility.

“There's a theory,” Golo said, “that at the moment of the creation of the universe it could have gone either way, matter or anti-matter. The theory considers it possible that some stars or planets, a very small number, went anti-matter, even so. As for what such a one is doing here, though, I have no explanation.” He shrugged. “I suppose that the only place where such a planet could survive would be between the galaxies, or between the arms of a spiral galaxy.”

“I can accept that,” Tulo admitted, grudgingly. “What I cannot accept is that.” He set a caret over an utterly black spot in space to which streamed a thin trail of anti-matter, which promptly disappeared as it reached the spot, creating a halo of faint light around it from the destruction of matter. That any light should be able to escape a black hole was a measure of the intensity of the energies created by the destruction of that matter.

"A black hole where none ought be, eating a planet which would be such a low order of probability . . . even if it were normal matter . . . which it isn't . . .

“Golo, who the fuck is doing this?” The clan lord nearly wept. “It isn't the Indowy, Golo. I've eaten Indowy; their brains are just not that fucking big. Golo . . . I . . . we . . . What's the lowest order probability there is? Shall we jump again and find the human God?”

“I don't know, Tulo,” Goloswin said. “But since we have the anti-matter available, maybe we should, for now, just refuel.”

“My name doesn't matter,” said the image on the screen. It was not the image of Aelool. It wasn't the image of any species with which any of the Posleen were exactly familiar. This creature was bipedal, its skin was the mottled green of a bullfrog. It had four eyes mounted on its shoulders, two to either side, the inner ones slightly lower than the outer. The was a large mouth mounted just below where in a human would be a chest, making it look scary even to Posleen. Furthermore, this creature was not an “it.” There were definite genitalia, down in the protected place between its legs.

“Nor does the identity of my people matter. Forget the Indowy; he was a pawn.”

"By this point in time you will be between galactic arms and you should be refueling. We have been in control of your ship so far. We are modifying that control now. You have some choices again.

“You will want to know where you should go from here,” the recording of the unknown species continued. “There are at least five options.”

The image disappeared, to be replaced by a star map of the nearest portion of the Sagittarius arm of the galaxy. Posleen numbers appeared by five systems, each number with a stylized arrow pointing to a specific sun.

“These are all systems we think important to your People, Tulo'stenaloor. We know of no dangers associated with them. Whether you choose to visit one, two, all or none of them is up to you. We think you should visit all.”

“I will reappear when you summon me,” the image concluded, “provided that enough time has passed for you to have reached one of those marked systems.”

“Your call, Rememberer,” Tulo said, several orbits later. “Which, if any, of those systems shall we visit?”

“I have consulted the scrolls,” the cleric answered. “My answer is that, despite recent occurrences, we should take the . . . virus' advice and see them all. After all,” he added, “we're not exactly in a hurry to get anywhere, are we?”

“Put that way,” Tulo agreed, “I suppose not. Are there any objections?”

Seeing none, the clan lord commanded, “Essthree, set us a course for the nearest of those stars.”

The image of the unknown species once again appeared on the viewscreen. “Excellent choice,” it said. “Relax, I shall take you there. You may have noted the black hole that marks a route on the Hidden Path. This is going to be a longer jump than you are used to. Rather, it is going to be a longer series of longer jumps than you are used to.”

But Allah was also plotting, and Allah is the best of plotters.

—the Koran, Sura 3:54, Sura 8:30

Anno Domini 2020 through Anno Domini 2021

USS Salem, entering the Hemaleen system

Posleen grew fast. Really fast. So fast that . . .

“I just fitted you for new armor, Freddie,” Sally said. “Do you really need a new cuirass so soon?”

“And a new champron, Sally,” the boy said, hanging his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh nonsense,” she answered. “Nothing to be sorry about. You just . . . done growed. Give me . . .”

The PA system gave a soft whoop and then began to spout, “Captain to the bridge. Lieutenant Kreuzer-Dwyer to the bridge. Reverent Doctor Guanamarioch to the bridge. Swiss Guards, bring the Indowy prisoner, Aelool, to the bridge. Wachtmeister von Altishofen to the Bridge.”

“I'll have your new outfit tomorrow, Freddie,” Sally called over her shoulder as she hurried off.

A spinning dodecadron, gold in color, filled the center of the view screen. A linear scale on the right side indicated it was less than half a meter in diameter. A long serious of Posleen syllables, plus grunts, snarls and glottal stops, came from the speakers and presumably from the dodecahedron.

“Is it dangerous?” von Altishofen asked.

Sally, the woman, shook her head slowly as her colloidal brain took in the translated information streaming from the AID Sally. “No . . . no . . . but it's warning us of danger down below. It seems the band of Tulo'stenaloor landed to make repairs and was attacked.”

“Isss . . . eeevvviiilll . . . thinkgkgk beeelllooow,” Guanamarioch said, directly, not bothering to have his AS translate. “Ifff . . . sssennnddd . . . parrrtttyyy dowwwnnn . . . sssooonnn . . . wwwiiifffe . . . ssselllfff . . . notttt gggooo.”

“Think landsharks, Dan,” Sally added. “Piranha with legs, millions of 'em. Maybe billions. Add in an abortifactant disease. I'm not even sure little Freddie . . . well . . . not so little Freddie, at this point, would be safe.”

“Eeevvviiilll thinkgkgk,” Guano repeated, his reptilian lip curling in a sneer. “Dddessstttrrroooyyy sssennntiiiennnt lllifffe . . . llleaeaeavvve onlllyyy nonnn-sssennntiiiennnt.”

“Indeed,” Dwyer agreed, “and precisely what some of Earth's fanatics were insisting upon, just before the war.”

“We didn't know this is what we were sending that group into,” Aelool offered.

The Posleen fixed the Indowy with a baleful stare. “Zzzooo? Zzzisss mmmaaakkkesss it allll bbbettterrr?”

Ignoring the aliens, Dwyer looked directly at von Altishofen. “Wachtmeister?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“We'll take the pinnace. Prepare a security party to support the landing. Party consists of myself, your team and, since we're facing some kind of disease, Chief Nurse Duvall. Full arms, armor, and ammunition.”

“Dan,” Sally interrupted, “we've an archeologist aboard, Imam al Rashid. I'm getting some odd signatures from below the surface that suggest you might want to look.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “Even makes sense. First thing, though, I want to look at the spot the Posleen landed. Sally, you'll be in command up here.”

From above the scene looked like a nearly circular thirty square kilometer field of yellow bones, massed and tangled and decorated with Posleen skulls.

“Must be a million of them,” von Altishofen whispered, as the little pinnace settled down.

“More like three million,” said Sally's voice, over the pinnace's speakers.

“I've never seen anything like this,” de Courten gulped.

“I have,” said von Altishofen, seated next to Duvall on the right hand canvas troop bench. The two had come to spend a fair amount of time together, these last couple of months. All the Switzers had noticed, and all had bet on the probability the Wachtmeister and the nurse were sleeping together. So far, there'd been not a shred of evidence for that.

“During the war, one globe landed right in the middle of one of the fortified zones and was butchered without any appreciable number of survivors. A year later we still hadn't cleared all the bones out. It looked something like this.”

“Something to remember,” the Wachtmeister added, “Posleen bones have a ridge for strength. Depending on the bone, it can be sharp.”

Everyone on the landing party went silent then, as the pinnace descended on jets to a bone-crunching landing. Not that the landing was especially jarring from the passengers' points of view. Indeed, it was very gentle, just as one would expect with Sally's AID flying the ship under remote control. Rather, it was impossible to find a spot in the entire thirty square kilometers where the pinnace's landing gear would not crunch the bones left behind by the Posleen.

Once the pinnace stopped rocking on its landing gear, Sally opened the ramp that extended from underneath. More Posleen bones crunched. This time they were completely audible by the landing party. Though the slaughter here had been many years before, still a faint wash of the stench of corruption entered the pinnace as the ramp opened.

“Swiss Guard, perimeter security!” von Altishofen ordered. Immediately, in two files with the Wachtmeister in the middle, the Switzers tramped down the ramp and peeled off to set up security around the chosen site. They wore the body armor and helmets Sally had made them for halberd drill because, as it turned out, the monomolecular structure of those was infinitely tougher than the human-made body armor they'd taken on the journey with them. They'd still left behind their halberds, carrying instead the SIG-Sauer rifles Dwyer had first seen back in Rome.