Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) (8 page)

-11-

I managed to take a dozen angry steps across the hangar deck before the pinnace hatch creaked open behind me again.

“Sparhawk?” Grantholm called. “I haven’t dismissed you. Please return and attend me immediately.”

Halting in irritation, it took an effort of will to turn around and face her without shouting profanity.

It was one thing, after all, to accept her authority as a non-military official over what was essentially a military mission. To have her ordering me around like a cabin boy was something quite different.

All that aside, however, she
did
have the authority to command any diplomatic effort, which was what we were clearly embarked upon now.

Reluctantly, I returned to the pinnace and gave her a wry grimace.

“You can’t abandon your role in this effort now,” she said. “Is this a fit of pique? If so, it’s quite unprofessional.”

“Madam Ambassador, I’m returning to the command deck. Someone must prepare for any upcoming battle your visit may instigate.”

She made a snorting sound. “Now who’s insulting whom? Look William, let’s cooperate. The people on this station spoke to you before, and you promised you would meet them in person. Why you did so is still beyond me—but that’s done now. The point is they expect Captain Sparhawk to step onto their station.”

“I will command the away-team,” I said. “You must listen to me if things go badly. You can talk to their leaders after I introduce you. Agreed?”

She laughed. “The away-team? You mean yourself and this giantess? Fine. If things go badly, I would assume we’ll all be swiftly killed anyway.”

With ill-grace, I boarded the pinnace and moved forward to sit beside Zye.

The hangar was depressurized, and a blast shield rolled away to reveal a black rectangle of open space.

Off to the lower left the station was visible. Zye lofted the pinnace, and we glided out into the void. The view was magnificent. Up close, the station resembled a multi-faceted silver ornament. As it spun, the fire of the orange star nearby lit up the facets and sent brilliant flashes of color in every direction.

“There, see the damage you did?” Lady Grantholm exclaimed, pointing at a blackened facet that looked like a burnt out triangular hole in the hull.

“I do indeed,” I said. “Recall that if I hadn’t punctured their pretty station, they’d have attacked us with their fighters.”

Her face twisted up in irritation. “Your crewmen are constantly telling me how smart you are. Perhaps in this case you were in the right, but you shouldn’t let things like this go to your head, William. Speaking of the fighters… where are they now?”

“Following us cautiously. They have yet to return to the station.”

“Perhaps they can’t because you destroyed their launch deck.”

I shrugged. “It’s possible.”

We said little else as we followed a landing signal toward the station. A section of the shield flickered out, and we entered the inner zone near the hull. At the last moment, when we were barely crawling, our guests finally saw fit to open another facet. The opening behind it was pitch-black.

Zye eased the craft into this massive region. Up close, the station was more impressive than I’d realized. Earth had never built anything so large. The station had to be the size of a small moon, at least five kilometers in diameter.

It felt as if we were being swallowed as we entered the station. The door slid shut behind us, and the chamber beyond lit up.

I’d been expecting to see a cargo hold. Instead, we landed on a large deck in the midst of a dozen spacecraft. There were shuttles, repair ships and several tugs. I assumed it was a small support fleet.

“These ships are damaged,” Zye noted. It was the first time she’d spoken since we’d launched.

“How’s that possible?” Grantholm demanded. “Sparhawk hasn’t taken a shot at them yet.”

“You’re right,” I said to Zye, ignoring the ambassador. “They are
all
damaged… That indicates this station has recently been in combat—but with whom?”

“Maybe they’re paranoid for a reason,” Zye suggested.

Together, we left the ship and stood waiting near its landing gear. A group of armored troops approached with rifles in their hands. We made no hostile moves.

“Captain Sparhawk?” inquired the lieutenant in charge.

“I’m Captain Sparhawk.”

“Accompany me, sir.”

We followed the guards, who closed ranks around us. They took our side arms, but left me my sword, assuming it was ceremonial in function.

Zye eyed them with distrust, but she gave up her pistol sullenly. The troops around us kept casting sidelong glances at her. They clearly found her worrisome.

The colonists weren’t very tall people. They were all shorter than Zye and myself. Maybe they found our size intimidating, it was difficult to say.

We were ushered into a chamber deep within the station. The more levels we traversed inward, the more people seemed to join the party. I was impressed by their numbers, and by the apparent level of interest they had in us.

At last, we were marched into a sweeping chamber of unsurpassed beauty. The walls—they didn’t look like walls. They were holographic projections, they had to be.

An apparent landscape of lush beauty and sunlight rolled in a curving arc for kilometers around. From our point of view, it looked like we were at the bottom of a bowl, with fields, trees and even gently rolling hills crawling upward in every direction around us.

The guards smiled at our reactions. Even Zye seemed taken aback.

“A false interior?” Zye asked. “An encapsulated atmosphere of such volume… this is an engineering marvel.”

“Don’t be daft, girl,” Lady Grantholm said. “It’s nothing but an illusion. Those walls are screens. They’re probably less than a hundred meters off.”

Frowning, I stopped to pluck a sunflower from a path strewn with white pebbles. I tilted my head up, until I looked directly overhead.

There, above us all, sat a bulbous contraption, much of which was shrouded in steam. It seemed to emit brilliant light from some angles and… was it possible?

Silvery rain fell. Droplets were falling from it, sheeting down toward us. As I watched, the rain came to sweep over us and sprinkle us with light droplets.

I turned to the captain of the Guard, enchanted. “I can’t believe it,” I told him. “This is marvelous. That’s the core up there, isn’t it? The core of the entire station. It’s raining on us, and other spots are shining bright light as if you’ve captured your own personal sun.”

“Yes, exactly,” he said.

I couldn’t help but note the pride in his voice.

“This is real?” demanded Lady Grantholm suddenly. “What a gross display of wealth—I like it. Powered by the sun outside, shining upon those countless solar collectors… yes, and don’t think that I’ve missed the brilliance of this move diplomatically. How better to begin a negotiation than to impress your opponents so utterly?”

The guardsmen looked bemused.

“Truly marvelous,” I said. “Is that what you’ve brought us here to see? To show us your engineering capabilities?”

“No, not exactly,” the captain admitted. “But we are thoughtful people. Determined, yes. Harsh, some would say. But we firmly believe the final moments of any being should be spent peacefully.”

Frowning in concern, I took stock of the situation. We’d stopped marching. We were, indeed, at the end of the path of white pebbles we’d been following. A set of dark holes, freshly dug, could be seen here and there among the waving sunflowers.

Turning back toward the guardsmen, I nodded in understanding. My hand went to the clasp around my neck, which I touched with seemingly idle fingers.

“I get it,” I said, “you mean to bury us here, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said the captain, brightening. “I hope you appreciate the gesture.”

Grantholm froze. Her face displayed shock. Zye stood with her eyes cast low—I knew she was watching them all at once with her peripheral vision. Her bunched shoulders let me know she was ready for anything, despite her quiet demeanor.

My eyes returned to the Captain. “What gesture?”

“This is my personal plot. I volunteered this land for special service. Others had refused.”

“Ah,” I said. “Your generosity is to be commended.”

Lady Grantholm’s eyes slid to me. She clearly thought I was as insane as this farmer who so calmly discussed our murders.

“That can’t be the entire story,” I said. “Surely there’s something in this for you.”

The captain shrugged. “Well, I grow these sunflowers—I love the flavor of the seeds when they’re soaked in brine. You’ll feed them well, in my opinion. Also, I believe I can turn a better profit at the local market with the next crop by advertising they were fed by outsider fluids—even if they taste exactly the same.”

“How enterprising,” I said in a tone I hoped was perfectly calm.

Taking two strides toward the fields, I saw the squad around us become alert. They lifted their lance-like weapons. The tips were energy projectors. I wasn’t sure yet whether they possessed range, or if they had to be applied directly to the body to kill. I figured I would most likely be enlightened on this point very soon.

“May I?” I asked the captain, reaching for a large bloom.

“Ah, of course,” he said, stepping toward me and touching the plant I’d indicated. “They said you would be uncivilized, but clearly, you’re a man of rare spirit.”

As his hands left his weapon and touched the plant in question, I made my move.

-12-

My sword is anything but ceremonial.

To explain that reality requires some understanding of Earth’s past. Dueling had been legalized on Earth nearly a century ago, during the period of relative lawlessness that followed the Cataclysm. Over time, dueling had come to be seen as a rational way to allow individuals to sort out disagreements among themselves.

By the time the Guard had restored order to the planet, the habit had become ingrained in the culture. Historians postulated that this change was nothing unusual. Throughout human history, the settlement of bitter disagreements had often been done through dueling. Ceremonial combat governed by rules of honor had provided countless societies a quick, cheap and final solution to arguments. They were actually quite effective when compared to, say, a civil lawsuit.

As a member of a Great House, I’d therefore been trained to handle a power-sword at a very young age. That process took decades, and it had started with the use of my sword as a utensil. As the duelists of centuries past had done, I’d been raised with my blade in my hand. I’d learned to use it as a pointing device, a tool, and even for eating at times. It had become an extension of my arm, and I felt more comfortable whenever it was within reach.

The guard captain believed his power-lance and the squad of troops backing him up meant we’d be easy to defeat—but he was taken by surprise.

As a rule, I don’t like deception. I refused to practice it upon unsuspecting innocents. This man, however, had led us here under a false pretext. He was anything but honorable, farmer or not.

My rapier was in my hand after a brief rasping of steel and leather. In a single motion, I drew it and drove it between two ribs. He fell to his knees, his heart pierced. His hand went to the blade, but I drew it out quickly. The captain’s severed thumb dropped to the turf a moment before the rest of him sagged beside it.

My other hand was at the clasp of my cloak, which served as a button to activate the garment. Some would say the cloak was an expensive rich man’s toy, but I’d found it had served me well in any number of unexpected situations.

The cloak lit up, extending a personal shield around my person. To an outside observer, a series of angular planes of force surrounded my body. I resembled someone locked in clear ice. The effect moved with me, however, following my actions perfectly.

Surprised, the squad of soldiers only hesitated for a few seconds before they rushed me with their lance-tips glowing. As yet, none of them had been fired in my direction. I surmised immediately that the weapons killed by touch.

In their haste, the soldiers made a grave error. While rushing me, they’d turned their backs upon Zye and Lady Grantholm.

My aunt was elderly, but she was a mean old bird. I could have told them as much. She drew a hidden dagger and stabbed with it at the nearest man. He grabbed her wrist contemptuously—but then she caressed his arm with the blade. This caused a spark of power to erupt. The man slumped, his body wracked in spasms.

Zye was less subtle. She grabbed the heads of two of the smaller men, one skull cupped by each of her massive hands. Slamming them together, she sent up a spray of blood. The muffled crunch was awful to hear.

The last two men charged me and thrust. Their lances touched my shielding and a shower of sparks resulted. Finding my defenses impenetrable, they quickly backed away with their weapons held up in a defensive posture.

They were breathing hard, and their eyes were wide. Crushed sunflowers rustled under their boots as they backpedaled away from us.

The crowd of civilians that had quietly followed us to this spot, undoubtedly planning to enjoy our execution and burial, now melted away from the scene with shrieks and pounding feet.

“Don’t let them live!” Grantholm shouted. “They’ll bring a thousand more down on us!”

I glanced at her. “I’m in charge of this team’s defense, remember?”

She bared her teeth and held her dagger like a trained fighter—which she was.

Turning back to the retreating soldiers, I lifted the man who my aunt had shocked into submission. He was groggy, but he slowly regained the use of his limbs as I talked to him.

“We must talk with your leader,” I said. “Where is the Connatic? I demand to meet him!”

This seemed to get through to him. “You demand to see the Connatic?”

“I do. Summon him, or take me to him now. If you don’t I’ll kill you where you stand.”

The guardsmen who’d been retreating had halted at a safe distance to watch and listen. They shifted uneasily on their feet, and I could tell they were considering another run for it.

“I’ve easily slain half your squad without a scratch,” I pointed out. “If you don’t obey, my ship will soon kill you all.”

“What do you mean?” one of the wary guardsmen asked.

“Do you really think a marauding ship from Earth would allow you to kill her captain? They’ll melt this shiny station down to a puddle of liquid steel.”

They looked uncertain and fearful. I had to wonder, in that part of my mind that was still capable of reflecting on things coldly: how had these people degenerated to such a state? They appeared technological and capable, but there was an undeniable impression of the rube about them. They’d regressed in their knowledge of the behavior of others. Perhaps they’d even sunken into barbarism. I hoped the cosmos wasn’t full of isolated colonists like these people.

One of the survivors finally swallowed. “I’ll contact the Connatic. We must have guidance.”

“Please hurry,” I said. “My ship is expecting me to communicate soon. As per their orders, they’ll proceed with the destruction of this station within the hour.”

He nodded, licking his lips.

I’d bluffed him, but there had been some truth to my words. Left out of contact with me for long enough, First Officer Durris would assume command. He’d definitely consider damaging this structure. There would certainly be a great loss of life, whoever won the conflict.

The three of us were soon left to our own devices. Lady Grantholm turned to me and treated me to a very unfriendly expression.

“I’ve lived for over a century,” she said. “And to think, after all that time, I’m going to end my days the victim of barbarians in this alien place. It’s not fitting at all.”

“You chose your path. We came as explorers. History is littered with any number of dead explorers.”

“You’re too clever for your own good, Sparhawk. You’re arrogant, overconfident—just because you’ve won so often is no guarantee you’ll win here today. These people have only to call for reinforcements. They’ll pincushion us with arrows or encircle us with their powered lances and jab until we’re dead.”

I shrugged. “It may turn out the way you suggest.”

“Why then are we here?” she demanded, her voice cracking in exasperation.

“We’re on a diplomatic mission,” I said. “What would you have said if I’d destroyed this station and all its inhabitants when they attacked instead of trying to come to terms?”

“I’d have called you a genocidal maniac,” she admitted. “But you would have made the right decision if you’d struck. Now we’re the weak ones in their power.”

“I disagree. We’re engaged in diplomacy of a sort. If we hope to make friends with savages, a certain degree of risk is to be expected.”

She sniffed. “This world isn’t at all what I expected. None of this is. My skills at negotiating have been negated by a pack of fools with lances. What did they think we would do? Climb into these graves and pull clods down over ourselves?”

The field moved in a soft wind. Somewhere, a chime tinkled. It was odd, standing among dead men in such a peaceful environment. Yes, it was artificial, but it didn’t feel that way. Instead, it felt as if we were standing on a lovely alien world surrounded by lush growths.

“Perfectly simulated sunlight, rain and fertile soil,” Zye said. “For all their faults, these people are industrious and artistic.”

“They possess an appreciation for beauty and engineering,” I agreed.

“Too bad they’ve fallen into a state of fear,” continued Zye.

I turned to her thoughtfully. “Is that what you think? You might be right.  Since we got here, they’ve been acting like we’ve come to abuse them. That would indicate they’ve been abused by others. We must try to get to the bottom of their story in order to more fully understand them.”

“These people have clearly suffered much,” she said. “They’re so fearful they’re dangerous—but they make terrible warriors.”

In the midst of our discussion, a figure appeared. The figure was slight, and feminine. No one else accompanied her.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am the Connatic,” she said. “I watch all, and all watch me. You have done much damage here.”

Frowning, I looked around at the land. I sensed immediately how the scene must appear. We stood in a field of lovely trampled flowers with three dead men at our feet.

“Perhaps we can help,” I said. “We can bury your dead. They will feed the flowers with their fluids.”

The Connatic brightened. “Yes,” she said. “That would be best.”

Zye and Lady Grantholm exchanged baffled glances, and they both shrugged. While Grantholm stood well clear, Zye and I bent to the task. We dragged the bodies into the graves and placed them there as gently as we were able.

“Careful,” the woman said, coming close and standing near to watch. “Make sure you bury them with their eyes open and their faces turned up to the sun. That is our way.”

Zye glanced overhead, squinting at the brilliant glare in the center of the hollow station. I could tell she thought the Connatic might be mad, but she didn’t let on.

After we’d buried them, I spoke to the Connatic gently. “You are the leader here?”

“I’m the Connatic.”

“I heard your voice during our conversations—I thought it was male.”

She shook her head. “We alter our transmissions to make ourselves sound more threatening. In this case, it appears that we failed.”

I looked at her in concern. “Tell me, why do you fear us so? Since we’ve arrived, you’ve hidden, lied and attempted to trick us.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “I came here to offer my life in return for the lives of my people. Will you not accept this exchange?”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“You threatened to destroy our station. Was that report inaccurate?”

For some reason, I felt a pang at her words. She was a young woman, perhaps thirty years of age. She was pleasant to listen to and to look upon. She made me feel as if
I
were the barbarian, a monster bent upon disturbing the peace of her world.

In a way, I knew she was right if she held that opinion. Thus far, not a single member of my crew had died. In contrast, these people had suffered a number of losses and significant damage to their station.

“I must talk to my crew. They must know that I’m in good health.”

“And if you don’t, they’ll kill two million peaceful souls, isn’t that right?”

“Well…” I began uncertainly, “look, your soldiers said they would take us to meet you. Then when we arrived they took us instead to this field and told us we were to be executed. At that point
you
started the violence.”

“Ah!” she said, shaking her head. She walked forward and knelt by the grave of the squad’s captain. “Foolish Trent. That must have been his idea. It’s too bad he failed so miserably. He was never a killer at heart, but he thought he should be.”

“So…” I began, “these men didn’t attempt to execute us because they were following your orders?”

“No. Trent took matters into his own hands. He’s always felt protective of me. I’m sure he believed you would kill or abduct me if he led you into my presence.”

Things were beginning to make sense at last. This woman—the Connatic—wasn’t our arch nemesis. She was a calm leader, a queen of sorts. Her guardsmen had decided to protect her unilaterally.

“Well then!” boomed Lady Grantholm. She swept past me and interceded her body between myself and the Connatic. “I take great pleasure in making your acquaintance, Connatic. I’m an ambassador from Earth. We’re here to open diplomatic negotiations.”

The Connatic seemed bemused, but she allowed the older woman to take her arm and begin a very long speech about Earth’s benevolence, our plentiful trade goods and our intentions of mutual defense.

I found myself, somewhat reluctantly, left behind in their wake with Zye as the two women walked toward a small village in the distance.

Zye observed me for a time and spoke at length.

“Why do you prefer the smallest of females?” she asked.

“Uh…she’s nice enough, I guess.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Zye, we’ve been over this before.”

“And you’ve never given me a satisfactory response.”

I looked at her. “We’re not supposed to date, you and I. Guardsmen are forbidden to fraternize when one is in command of the other.”

She tilted her head in a gesture of puzzlement. “Are you asking me to resign my commission so our relationship might advance?”