Queen of Chaos, page 27
part #3 of Sequoyah Series
“I'm seeing motion,” Sukuna said quickly. “To the west.”
“Probably the other one,” Kostas said. “Everybody take cover.” He grinned. “May as well take care of him now, eh?”
He hid in the shadows of the underbrush, making plans. This one they could dump in the ocean, after taking his gear. They could lure the shuttle in with a distress call, maybe. All sorts of things they could do.
¤ ¤ ¤
Moire propped her head in her hands, fingers running through her hair in a futile effort to stave off the massive headache that was forming. She could sense Ennis on the other side of the galley kitchen, radiating worry and conflicting loyalties.
“Still there, Captain, no change.”
“Thank you, Inathka,” Moire said without looking up. She was feeling pretty conflicted herself. The people she relied on for advice were all on Sequoyah, except for Ennis, and she had to make the decision now. It wasn't fair, but Ennis was the only one who could help. She just had to convince him he wasn't betraying Fleet first.
“If I tell Agurwythen to pound sand, what's the worst case scenario?”
“Agurwythen?”
“The one who wants to sublet a planet. I had Radersent do a semiphonetic transcription. We were running out of pronouns.”
That got her a faint smile. “Everybody here is dead and Toren has a perfect secret base to continue their plot, probably meaning more fighting, only human–on–human this time.”
Moire took a drink from her mug of cold ersatz coffee. “If I let Agurwythen take up residence and it turns out the crabs were plotting against us, worst case scenario is we are all dead, but Toren gets to fight entrenched crabs when they try to take over Sequoyah. I could certainly cope with Toren getting their faces ripped off, even if I wasn't around to see it. It would divert their attention from sabotaging Fleet, plus it wouldn't endanger any other human outposts any more than they already are.”
Ennis nodded slowly. “And if Agur…whatever is telling the truth, they will fight to the last crab to defend their crèche. Even if we're all dead.” He sighed and slumped forward until his face was resting on his hands. “It just feels…as a certain former subordinate of mine would say, there isn't a form for this. Namur gave me a lot of latitude to do my job, but I am not authorized to conduct interspecies treaties!”
“You aren't making any treaties. I am. Look on the bright side. If we screw up there won't be enough left of us to court–martial. Hell, I could get a genuine mutiny going back home. There are going to be some angry people when they find out.”
He gave her a hard look. “So you've decided to do it.”
From the corner of her eye Moire saw Harrington peek around the doorframe, grimace, and then disappear again. “Tell me what I'm missing. All I've got is a fine assortment of bad choices. You know what we have back on the planet—a lot of eager Fringers who have never seen real combat and a bunch of defenses assembled from spit, baling wire, and duct tape. I was hoping Fleet would show up sooner or later so all we'd have to do is hold out for a while—but we don't know if Palmer's contact survived or if Enver was able to get the word out. We can't count on Fleet…so I have to find a way to win now.”
He sat back, suddenly looking tired. “I can't think of anything that would change our options,” he admitted. “It still feels wrong. You shouldn't be making defense treaties when we can barely communicate with them. We could be making dangerous assumptions.”
“Probably are.” Moire shrugged. “Thing is, so are they.”
“Is that supposed to cheer me up?”
“I'm not explaining it very well. I'm not a diplomat. See, we wouldn't even be having this problem if the crabs didn't desperately want to talk to us. Agurwythen didn't know there were any humans it was safe to talk to until the explorers told them, and look how fast they showed up once they did! The explorers went to a minefield because that was the only place they knew we'd show up! I'm only thinking about surviving Toren right now. You're worrying about what happens after that.”
“Somebody should.”
Moire smiled. “I'm not complaining. I especially like the assumption that we'll win. My point is, I believe the crabs want this to work. They'll do their damnedest and so will we, and if we have to renegotiate or clarify something later on we will.”
Alan came in the galley looking worried. “I can't find Gremlin anywhere. Did you see him?”
“You should keep that furball in a cage,” Moire grumbled.
“I did; it ate through the wire mesh, remember?”
A shriek came from down the corridor. It sounded like Inathka.
“Looks like someone found it, kid. Go collect it, apologize, and put it somewhere it can't escape, OK? We've got serious diplomatic stuff to do and we don't need a rampaging nerya in the middle of it.”
Alan nodded and darted out the door. Ennis was looking at her with a resigned expression on his face. “Remind me. Why are we having this discussion in the galley instead of your office?”
“Because this is important. And in my experience, all the really important discussions happen in the kitchen.” Moire got up. “Let's go see what the crab word for paperwork is.”
Ennis stood and reached for her as she went past. For a moment he just held her tightly, in silence. “You have to win,” he said finally, his voice thick. “Do whatever you have to do.”
Moire hugged him, trying not to get choked up herself. Too many balls in the air at once, and some of them had been replaced with chainsaws. “Hey, this is all according to NASA standard procedure.”
He pulled back to look at her. “Really.”
“Absolutely. SOP when you run out of plan is to fly by the seat of your pants. I'm surprised that got left out of the history books.”
“They always leave out the really good bits,” Ennis said, following her out.
¤ ¤ ¤
They were waiting on a response from the crabs so Harrington quickly turned his attention to his notes. It was beginning to appear that the agreement was fairly well hammered out to everyone's satisfaction. It was fortunate for him that the negotiations were so intermittent, as it allowed him time to get caught up. He smiled to himself. And just when had he gotten so nonchalant concerning the first contract between humans and crabs?
It wouldn't do to get careless. He was afraid he'd done just that with his data storage, but with this side–trip wrapping up there should be a reasonable buffer for the fight with Toren. He'd intended to get a datacube or two and a transfer clip on Kulvar, but that had gone rather fruit–shaped and he was stuck with what he had brought originally. Perhaps he could go hat in hand to the crew if his reserves got low. It would be embarrassing, but he had to cover the war!
Moire Cameron straightened up at the console, hands at the small of her back. “That should be everything, then. They get full use of the fourth planet, we all agree to defend the solar system against any attacker, human or crab, but anybody looking for trouble outside is on their own. We're responsible for telling human ships what the friendly codes are and they handle crab visitors. Agurwythen guarantees their crab allies will behave. Anything important we're leaving out?”
“Probably, but there is a limit to what can be done with point–and–grunt diplomacy,” Ennis said. “And time is limited.”
“Right!” Moire rubbed her hands and looked more cheerful. “Now we just have to give Agurwythen coordinates and nav guidance and we can leave.”
Inathka glanced up from the console, shrugged, and started muttering into her headset. Her head snapped up again. “Radersent says not done yet.”
“What?” Both Ennis and Moire stared at her.
“This deal, right? It isn't really agreed yet or something.”
“But we just agreed to all the terms…are they changing their minds?” Moire looked worried. “Maybe we should just leave now. I don't like this.”
“Nah, nah! Damp the core, boss. Here, you listen to him. Tell 'em, Rad.”
She tapped a control on the console, and the synthetic voice of Radersent's translator sounded from the comm. “Promise of Cameron–she to Agurwythen–she spoken. Not having power. Make completed. Make circle, final. The shes see and touch, together, is final. Promise has power. Must see together. All shes.”
Harrington sighed. He was going to have to condense his notes. There simply wasn't going to be enough room otherwise. Why hadn't he gotten the cube array? It hadn't been that expensive, and this was history!
“I don't get it,” Moire said finally.
“It appears everyone who is a party to this agreement must actually meet for it to have force,” Harrington explained. “Together, and see each other agreeing to it. This would match their quasitribal culture, what we've seen of it anyway.”
“OK, our ship or theirs?”
“Agurwythen old ways. Not ship, place of being,” Radersent said. “Planet.”
Moire shook her head. “No way do they get the coordinates first and sign the contract later.”
“Query?”
Inathka murmured a simplified explanation of Moire's statement to the confused crab. Radersent really was doing quite well with human conversation, Harrington noted. He'd gotten better with practice, and there had been plenty of that lately.
“Not Cameron–she planet. Rock not belonging. Is here.”
Moire frowned, and went over to a navigation and scanning station. “Hmm. Yeah, there's a goodly sized rock–ice moon around the outer gas giant,” she said. “Would that count as a 'planet' for crab legal purposes?”
There was a brief pause as a diagram and explanation of the proposed site was sent to Radersent.
“Good place. Say go.”
Moire nodded to Inathka, who switched to the transmit circuit to the waiting crab ships.
“Need more.” Radersent sounded, implausibly, embarrassed. Harrington hadn't known the synth–voice could do that.
“Now what?” Moire snapped, exasperated. “They want tea and crumpets?”
“Hsurwyn–she different all Hsurwyn.” Yes, he was definitely hesitating. Was this a human characteristic Radersent had picked up? Harrington couldn't recall any other crab communicating like this. “Human–she same all human. Make Cameron–she different. Agurwythen–she, friend–she need seeing is Cameron–she.”
There was a thoughtful pause on the bridge. “Well, I'm not going to suddenly grow the size of a well–fed rhinoceros,” Moire commented. “I'm guessing that's not exactly what he meant.”
“There is a considerable size disparity between male and female Hsurwyn,” Harrington said. “If I understand him, they find our similar sizes confusing.”
“And since the big one is the one in charge,” Ennis said with a grin, “they would find your claim to be incredible. The only person here smaller than you is Inathka.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. So what are we going to do? Bear in mind, we're all going to be in spacesuits so there's not much I can add.”
“Then you will have to make the additions…outside.” Harrington considered. “I have some suggestions.”
It was perhaps fortunate that Moire Cameron's attention was focused on getting Raven to the rendezvous point and getting the dropship ready while Harrington rummaged through empty cargo bays, utility closets, and the reusables bin. He was not going to mention the reusables bin. It simply would not go over well. Not that the rest would either, but you really couldn't expect someone with colonial antecedents to understand the principle involved.
He was dimly aware of some other hurried project as he searched. Someone shouted, “It has to be at least two and a half meters long and we need two!” No doubt it would become clear later.
Harrington's comm beeped. “Are you done?” said Ennis. “We're in orbit.”
“Is Radersent suited up and available? It would be best to get his opinion before we leave, I think.”
“Yes. So is Perwaty and he's got the portable translator. They're at the dock.”
Harrington gathered up the voluminous folds of his creation and proceeded to the appointed location. By the time he got there Moire was present as well, suited and with a serious–looking knife strapped to the arm of her suit.
“Er. Is that quite the desired tone?” Harrington asked.
She gave him a hard look. “I'm fighting a war, and they know it. I don't know them. That's what this is all about, right? I wouldn't think much of them if they didn't have their own precautions if things go south. This way,” she tapped the knife, “it's all out in the open.”
“Just like Alan and his rifle will be,” Ennis said dryly.
“That's different. This is symbolic. It's not like we don't have guns on the dropship, either. So what do you have to make me look properly authoritative to a crab?” Moire asked Harrington.
He held out the first item, the largest. “I modeled it on a Maori chieftain's coat,” he said, leaving out that the original had been made with human scalps. “Sort of a cross between a cape and a sleeveless coat.”
Moire tried it on. It certainly created a sense of increased volume, Harrington was glad to see, although it did make the captain look like a small, shaggy mountain. He had attached long strips of light plastic webbing to some cargo net. Why they had a whole box of plastic webbing in the hold he had not seen fit to inquire.
“Well, at least the knife is still visible. What's that?” she pointed.
Harrington steeled himself. “For…additional height,” he said, and offered the headpiece to her. It had foam padding inside to protect the helmet and he had done his best to artistically shape the back half of the remaining cylinder, but there was no getting around the fact that it had once been a beer canister.
Her expression was not propitious. “What the hell is it?”
“Regalia, Imperial, Field Expedient, one each,” Ennis said with a carefully deadpan face. “You haven't seen the eyeshields yet, either. Radersent says they are traditional for these sorts of meetings. Seems in the old days the queens would be rather aggressive meeting face–to–face, so they had people to put blinkers up, so to speak.”
Moire's shoulders sagged. “I don't believe I'm doing this.” She turned to Radersent, who like always came to attention when she faced him. “Will this be acceptable?” She indicated the cloak and the headpiece. Radersent ducked his head in a human nod. “Then let's get this over with.”
With all the gear, Radersent, and everybody else taking up most of the room in the dropship, Harrington struggled to get ready. He still had the sealed vid from his time on the explorer's ship, and he'd just have to hope it still could handle vacuum. It would take up precious data storage, of course, but since he couldn't take notes or make recordings with his datapad it would have to do. He'd already asked Inathka to carefully store a copy of all the communications via ship, and the remote translator made recordings by default.
He glanced up front. Moire hadn't bothered to remove the cloak and was piloting with it still in place. It was an odd juxtaposition; an image he would have to sketch. A vid still wouldn't capture the strangeness of it. Her face was intent as Ennis pointed at some feature on the rocky moon.
From the corner of a small viewport he could see the crab ships orbiting with them. The one huge one must be Agurwythen's main ship. The others were smaller but radiated spines and other features he recognized as weapons. A cluster of even smaller ships, one for each of the crab ships, waited. As the human dropship passed, they followed. Looking forward again, Harrington saw a medium–size crater growing larger in the front viewport. The dropship turned and slowed, curving with the crater wall. He barely felt the impact when they landed.
“Listen up, everyone. This is important.” Moire Cameron was standing by the pilot's seat, looking at everyone in turn. “First, watch out for the low gravity. Don't let go of anything important or it could drift away. Next, we're going in with good intentions, but things could go sour. Always good to have backup, and that's where Alan and Linna come in. They will be stationed in the airlock. If I say run, everybody runs, got that? Be ready. But only on my signal. Now. I go out first. Then Perwaty and Radersent, who have escort duty with the giant lollipops. Then Ennis and Harrington. We do this ritual meeting and then leave without stopping to chat. Any questions?”
Harrington had quite a few, but sensed they would not be welcome. Especially, “what happens if you, our only web pilot, get killed?” No one said this would be a simple assignment, but he did want to live long enough to file a report about it.
The dropship airlock was technically large enough for two suited humans, but Moire in the cloak and Radersent had to go through individually. The ritual eyeshield poles looked suspiciously like repurposed cable conduit, and fortunately could be taken apart in sections. Someone had used lubricant can lids for the tops, which already had nicely crenelated edges, and had cut out a large, slightly uneven S in the middle. For Sequoyah?
Harrington came out of the airlock just as the second crab ship came in over the crater and rotated slowly, up and around, until it stood on what he thought would have been the tail. The dust swirled around the rough, spiny skin strangely, as if it were caught in water. The dust then drifted toward the ship instead of down in the minimal gravity of the moon. Another huge shadow passed over them, and again a crab ship gently floated down in veils of dust.
Suited crab figures emerged from the first ship now, carrying what looked like a long, lumpy rope. They laid it carefully between their ship and the humans', then stood back. The lumps grew and thinned, forming a webbing between thin ridges that also grew out of the rope. It seemed to be forming some sort of tent. Why would they want a tent when everyone was wearing suits?
“That looks like the airlock door on Radersent's ship,” Ennis said over the comm.
