Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (146 page)

Abaddon's gunship grey eyes narrowed like a raptor spying its prey. "Separatists?"

"So it would appear," Shzzzkt said.

"Separatists, Sir?" his Logistics Officer asked.

"Separatists," Abaddon said. He leaned forward and pinched his chin between his forefinger and thumb. "Pull up an image of that ship on the long-range scans."

The image was little more than a speck, but there was enough resolution to betray it was a mangy-looking vessel, the kind used by smugglers, mercenaries, and aspiring colonists to evade both Alliance and Sata'anic patrols. Such ships were used by the people who chose to live their out their lives in the wild frontier, and in their wake they usually left a trail of criminal activities.

"If you don’t mind my asking, Sir?” his Logistics Officer asked, betraying her inexperience, “what
is
a separatist?”

Abaddon rustled his feathers with annoyance at the breach of decorum, but no. It wasn’t
her
fault the Emperor had ordered all talk of such things be edited out of Alliance history books.

"The first thing the Mer-Levi Confederation did upon winning independence from the Alliance," Abaddon said, "was vote to free the Merfolk from the Emperor's edict that all non-naturally evolved species must serve a minimum of 500 years in the military."

"Slavery!" his third officer, Lieutenant-Captain Shzzzkt hissed under his breath. The Mantoids on his crew made no secret of the fact they found the Emperor's policies reprehensible.

"Some of those Merfolk then chose to take that freedom," Abaddon said, "and abscond with their families into the borderlands rather than intermarry with the Leviathans."

"But why reject the society which just freed you?"

"Why, indeed," Abaddon said. He turned to Lieutenant-Captain Shzzzkt. "Run a background check on that ship, and in the meantime, put them through so I can hear what they have to say."

Abaddon had still been a junior officer, working his way up the ranks when a deep space reconnaissance expedition had stumbled upon an FTL-drive signature and, in the process, discovered the Leviathan homeworld. Although he was old enough to remember a time when genetically engineered Merfolk, and not the naturally evolved Delphinium frog-men, had still been the fourth branch of the Alliance military, it still took his breath away when on his front viewing screen appeared an image of a full-blooded Merfolk matriarch.

"Supreme Commander-General Abaddon," the woman said. "I am Derketo, matriarch of the Sabawaelnu pod, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Derketo was an older woman, nearly as old as
he
was by the discreet lines around her eyes and mouth. Her wet hair carried the trademark brilliant auburn which many Mer-Levi still carried in their gene pool, but by its uniformity and brightness, he guessed that color had been augmented from a bottle to color the grey. She wore a civilian wetsuit, but everything about her screamed she had, at one point, pulled a lengthy stint with the military.

Abaddon leaned forward, intrigued.

"And of what service can I be to our Mer-Levi brothers?" Abaddon asked.

A frown of contempt marred Derketo's otherwise breathtaking human features before she composed herself back into the unreadable expression
all
Alliance military personnel were taught. That, alone, gave Abaddon a clue that her military service had been Alliance-based and not with the expressive Mer-Levi Navy.

"I have information you need," Derketo said.

"You may brief me," Abaddon said.

Derketo gave him a stern look. "It is not that easy, general. We do not answer to you, so if you wish to know what we know, we shall need to open a dialogue."

Abaddon flared his hawk-grey wings.

"We are on a mission," Abaddon said, "and don't have time for colonist intrigues."

"Very well then," Derketo waved her hand. "You will just have to find the
Light Emerging
on your own."

The transmission cut off. Abaddon turned to Lieutenant-Captain Shzzzkt and snarled, "Why did you terminate the transmission?"

"It wasn't me, Sir," Shzzzkt said. “The termination came from their end.”

“Bah!” Abaddon shouted. “Get them back on the horn!"

It had been a while since he’d let his temper get the better of him, but the past few weeks had been trying and he wasn’t used to
anybody
daring to treat disrespectfully. Ever since Shay’tan had ambushed him, it seemed like everybody, from the lowliest cadet to Parliament itself felt they had leave to speak down to him as though he was an imbecile.

In the background, Lieutenant-Captain Shzzzkt spoke into the microphone. At last he announced, “the
Mi'kmaq
has answered our hail, Sir."

Abaddon opened his eyes. The separatist matriarch stared back at him, every bit as stern and unflinching as
he
was. He remembered her now. They’d both participated in a campaign to subdue Shemijaza’s Third Empire, back before Lucifer had even been born. If memory served him correctly, she had been granted a medal for valor.

“Was that really necessary?” Abaddon’s expression softened.

“
You
would not tolerate that tone of disrespect,” Derketo said. “Don’t expect that I will, either. We are not your Alliance minions. In
my
dominion, no matter how small that dominion might be, I am the matriarch, and my pod defers to me.”

“Touche,” Abaddon said. He swiveled around in his commander’s chair to face the holographic-projection table. “So … what do you have for me?”

“First I want to verify that the person you married is truly human,” Derketo said.

“You have my word for it,” Abaddon said.

“It is not
your
word I doubt, Sir,” Derketo said, “but Lucifer’s. Shemijaza spent his entire life trying to retro-engineer a human ancestor. How do we know that what you have is real, and not merely a by-product of a mad scientist?”

“What proof do you wish to have?” Abaddon said.

“Your wife was quite articulate when she stood before Parliament and advocated for her people,” Derketo said. Her expression softened into one of suppressed eagerness. “I just wish to find out a little bit about her world. What are they like? How did they get there? Are they really the purest strain of humanity to exist since Nibiru was destroyed?”

“How do I know this is not a trap?”

“You don’t,” Derketo said. “But you served with me once, so you must remember how I lost my fin."

She turned to display where part of her fin had been sliced off her back and a replacement fin transplanted into its place, living tissue, but by no means a perfect match. Like him, this woman wore her battle scars like medals of honor. Yes. This woman had nearly been killed rescuing airmen from an Angelic Air Force battle cruiser which had been shot down over a colony’s ocean. She had saved dozens of men that day.

“We have no facility capable of hosting you in an aquatic environment,” Abaddon said. “You will need to come over in a wheelchair.”

“I wish for you to bring her
here,
” Derketo said, “to address my pod.”

"Out of the question," Abaddon said. "I will not put my wife and child at risk."

"You have an armada," Derketo said, "and we are just one ship. What harm will it do to bring your wife to meet us?"

"I just got my ass handed to me by Shay'tan," Abaddon growled. "I'm not about to make the same mistake a second time!"

"Very well, then," Derketo said. She moved her hand to signal whoever was in charge of broadcasting the transmission to cut it off.

"Wait!" Abaddon said. He leaned forward in his chair, studying the Merfolk matriarch. Amongst a species whose bloodline was matrilineal, they would
not
defer to him, but his wife.

"She means everything in the world to me," Abaddon said.

"You may send over an entire brigade to guard her if you like," Derketo said. "And encircle the
Mi'kmaq
with your armada. This ship contains my entire family. They wish to see her in the flesh, and until they do, the elders will not vote to aid you in your mission."

"Give me a moment," Abaddon said. He gestured to Lieutenant-Captain Shzzzkt. "Pause transmission." He waited until the screen had frozen. "Give me some good news. What do you have on that ship and commander?"

Shzzzkt tapped on his console with his hard, exoskeleton-clad finger and pulled up several images, all displayed around the room.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Derketo, received a silver star, absorbed into the Mer-Levi Confederation shortly after that, granted full citizenship and an honorable discharge based on permanent disability a few days later. She contested it, demanded she was still fit to serve, and took the matter to the Mer-Levi highest court. The court decision states here that, unlike in the Alliance,
all
Mer-Levi citizens, both Merfolk and Alliance, have no obligation to serve beyond 20 years and she had served at that point over 250. She left the Leviathan homeworld shortly thereafter and joined a group of smugglers."

"Smugglers?" Abaddon asked.

"Just small stuff," Shzzzkt said. "Mostly contraband run between the two empires. Several citations, no arrests."

"What about the
Mi'kmaq
?" Abaddon asked.

"She's been using it for the past 200 years as a merchant transport for minor water colonies out here in the uncharted territories, most of them Sata'anic defectors. She's an avowed separatist. Never forgave the Mer-Levi Confederation for thanking her service to the Alliance by immediately kicking her out of their military. She's one of around three dozen such pods of pure-blooded Merfolk still left in existence, though due to the inbreeding problem, their numbers have dwindled even more than yours have."

Shzzzkt tapped on his console again. His antennae tilted forward and then trembled. He displayed the image on the screen.

"Her only daughter was killed in battle against unknown pirates," Shzzzkt said more softly. "She has one grandson who she reared herself. His first wife left him because he was sterile, no offspring, currently unattached."

Abaddon nodded. Derketo's curiosity was beginning to make sense.

"Put her back on the screen."

The red-headed matriarch reappeared.

"What is your decision, General?"

"I shall escort my wife to meet with you myself," Abaddon said. "And when I get there, you will
not
attempt to disarm me in any way. I will bring with me a full contingent of guards, and if you double-cross me, the
Jehoshaphat
will blast your ship out of the sky."

"We lack foot space for any more than a couple of Terran guests," Derketo said. "You'd best advise them to come prepared to get wet."

Behind him, both his Logistics Officer and Lieutenant-Captain Shzzzkt audibly groaned. If there was one thing the insectoid species hated, it was getting wet. Not that it was a piece of cake to dry water out of your feathers!

The Merfolk leader ended the transmission. Abaddon tapped on his comms pin to summon his second-in-command.

"Major Pharzuphel," Abaddon called. "How is he?"

Pharzuphel's voice sounded enthusiastic, but weary.

"The surgery went well," Pharzuphel said. "Valac woke up and talked to me for almost twenty minutes, and for the first time he was able to wiggle his toes."

"Is he asleep now?" Abaddon asked.

"Yes," Pharzuphel said. Her voice sounded worried. "The doctor said not to expect him to awaken again for many hours."

"Good," Abaddon said. "Order one of the crewmen to sit with him. I need you on the bridge."

Two hours later, they rode a shuttle between the ships even though he had maneuvered the
Jehoshaphat
so close that his ATO had joked that perhaps he should just leap out the air hatch onto the
Mi'kmaq?
Sarvenaz clutched his hand. Travel in a space shuttle no longer terrified his wife, but his wrist would bear fingernail marks once she finally felt safe enough to let him go.

"They just want to meet you,
mo ghrá,
" Abaddon reassured her. "To them, you are as much a creature of legend as they are to you."

Sarvenaz's beautiful, mahogany eyes met his.

"You say is
woman
who is boss of ship?" Sarvenaz said. "Like woman who used to be boss of you?"

"Yes," Abaddon said. "Their culture is matrilineal."

The shuttle bumped against the
Phonecia.

"The airlock is sealed, Sir," Sergeant Raum informed them.

Abaddon helped his very pregnant wife heave her expanding midsection up out of her seat. Sergeant Raum and a contingent of airmen zipped up their wetsuits and prepared to storm the Merfolk vessel, but only if it was necessary.

The hatch opened. His men moved out, and from beyond the doorway he could hear the sound of his men hitting the water. Pulse rifles were designed to work in any environment, even under the water, but the high-pitched whistles of greeting which met his men were friendly, and within moments Sergeant Raum stepped back to inform him everything appeared to be in order.