Trident's Forge (7 page)

“Hey. Get back here,” Benson shouted. “You'll unbalance the shuttle.”

“Chief, there's twenty of us. She can handle it.”

“Ugh,” Benson said, embarrassed by his anxiety-fueled outburst. Temporarily pushing his fear to the background, Benson unfastened his webbing and joined Korolev and the others getting a look at their destination.

“That's a big hole,” he said, and indeed it was. The village where the temple to the human's rover had been built sat in a bowl carved out of the ground, but not by hands, human or alien. And not by water or wind, either.

It was a crater, an eroded remnant of a meteorite impact eons ago. The surface of Gaia was covered in them. The Tau Ceti system held ten times the density of protoplanetary material compared to Earth's solar system, despite Tau Ceti itself being a metal-poor star from an earlier generation of star formation than Sol. There were competing theories as to why, including a lack of Jovian-class gas giants to hoover up much of it, but no one was really sure why the dust and asteroids were so thick.

But the why didn't matter. The practical effect for Gaia was a period of heavy asteroid bombardment that still hadn't entirely run its course more than five billion years later. It was why the discovery of the Atlantians had come as such a huge shock to everyone. With a dinosaur-eradicating impact event averaging once every few million years, no one expected complex life would've had a chance to evolve, to say nothing of an entire civilization.

Yet as the shuttle cruised low and slow over the alien village, a civilization was exactly what spread out below them. A perfect ring of thick trees grew around the lip of the crater, acting as both a defensive wall and a barrier to the fierce winds constantly blowing in from the ocean. Inside the tree barrier, multiple concentric rings of adobe and brick buildings encircled a small lake at the very bottom of the crater.

Everywhere he looked, Benson saw the native Atlantians openly gawking up at the shuttle with their noseless, alien faces. Many ran for the safety of their homes. A few fell to their knees with arms spread wide in open worship. Some simply froze in place like statues. A very few shouted and shook spears at the monster invading their sky.

As the shuttle cast its long shadow over the village, Benson's suspicions about the rationale for taking the immense craft grew. Maybe it
was
the only practical way to cross the ocean with twenty people, but had a direct flyover in broad daylight really been necessary?

Benson dropped that thought and returned to the view. Outside the village, acres and acres of farmland reached deeper into the continent, interrupted by irrigation canals and cart paths. But the most obvious feature was a wide, perfectly straight road sticking out from the west side of the village and continuing past the horizon. It went another forty-odd kilometers before reaching the next village, then branched out to three more, then another twenty from there. No one knew if this particular village was the first to build roads, or only the most recent to be added to the network.

“At least don't set us down in their crop fields,” Benson said. “Our exhaust might start a wildfire and cost the entire season's harvest. And that wouldn't be good for diplomacy.”

Valmassoi nodded. “Where would you suggest we set down, then?”

Benson scanned the landscape until he spotted a clearing. “There. It looks like a crop processing area. Can our pilot set us down in there?”

“Looks like a tight fit, but doable. But it's four kilometers from the village.”

“Which gives us plenty of time to think up clever opening lines before our guests arrive.”

The administrator chuckled and looked to Sergeant Atwood, his hand-picked head of the security detail. Atwood was the Beehive's sergeant-at-arms, commanding three other guards. Her force operated as an independent arm of Theresa's constables, focused on personal protection instead of law enforcement, so even though Korolev technically had seniority over her, Valmassoi had insisted on putting her in charge.

Benson didn't mind. Madison Atwood had been a hell of a Zero player in her day. She was smart, tough, competent, and adaptable.

“What do you think, sergeant?”

Atwood tied her dark hair back into a short ponytail as she surveyed the scene. “We're pretty exposed out there, but that's true for at least ten klicks in any direction. And the terrain is flat enough that we can see anything coming from a long way off. We'll have plenty of time to dig in or dust off.”

“You're assuming there'll be trouble,” Benson said.

Atwood shrugged. “It's my job to assume there'll be. I don't like surprises.”

“Not even surprise parties?” Benson asked.

Atwood shot him a warning glance. “Especially not those.”

“So, you're comfortable with Mr Benson's landing site?” Valmassoi asked. Atwood nodded. “OK, tell the pilot that's our LZ. Sergeant, get your team ready.”

Without another word, Atwood got up and walked toward the rear of the cabin, followed closely by her two team members. Korolev shrugged at Benson and chased after them.

Valmassoi continued. “The rest of us are going to wait inside until the security team has signaled the all clear.”

A tremor rippled through the floor as the shuttle touched down. Benson let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Not seeing anything more important for him to do, he walked to the back of the cabin and watched the security team as they prepared.

Atwood already had two big crates pulled from storage, and the team busied itself spreading their contents all over the deck. The riot suits were familiar to Benson from his days running Avalon module's police force. They'd been designed for low-to-moderate threat environments and were rated against physical blows from fists or clubs, and slashing or piercing attacks from knives or other edged weapons. In theory, they would be more than adequate to protect them from anything that could be produced by late stone-age technology.

In theory.

The other crate held the other half of their kit, which was not at all defensive. Benson reached in and grabbed one of the rifles, careful to keep his finger well away from the trigger. It was a short, blocky design meant for use in the tight confines of an urban environment, but it would work equally well inside a dense forest. It was black and utilitarian almost to the point of ugliness. It was part of the very first batch of guns manufactured in over two hundred years. Most people had believed mankind was better off without them, and indeed they were still banned for civilian ownership. But the scars of David Kimura's attack on Shangri-La ran deep. Losing twenty thousand people in minutes did that to a society.

Complicating matters further was the footage of the final confrontation with Kimura, where Benson had used the last gun in existence, the same FN M1910 .380 auto that had killed Archduke Ferdinand and triggered World War I, to thwart the bombing that would have blown off the back half of the Ark and left everyone to freeze or starve to death.

Between that and the shock of moving to the surface and having to fight for the top spot on the food chain for the first time in a few thousand years, Shambhala's leadership had been forced to be a little more practical on the matter of firearms prohibition.

Korolev saw him holding it and walked over. “We're a little past stun-sticks, huh chief?”

“You can say that again.”

“Mr Benson,” Atwood's sharp voice snapped from behind them like a board breaking. “Are you qualified in the use of the P-120 personal defense weapon?” It was more accusation than question.

Benson held up a hand, but Korolev jumped in before he could answer. “Are you kidding? Chief Benson is the
only
person qualified. Unless you think a couple of hours on the range is the same as being in a real gunfight.”

Ah, Korolev. Reliably loyal and predictably hotheaded. Atwood was about to blow her stack, and rightfully so, but Benson averted the eruption by setting the rifle back in its case. “It wasn't much of a gunfight, constable, considering I was the only one with a gun. Sergeant Atwood is right, I haven't been trained on this particular weapon. And you should really show more deference to your superiors, Pavel.”

“Yes, sir.” Korolev squared his shoulders. “Sorry, ma'am.”

If Atwood stepped any closer to Korolev, she'd have stood on his toes. She was a good five centimeters shorter than him, but she hardly seemed to notice. “You may have been assigned here as a favor to Mr Benson, but you're under my command for the duration of this expedition, and until you are relieved, you
will
respect my authority. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma'am. Won't happen again.”

“I expect not. Now get in your gear. If you're not squared away when that door drops in three minutes, you'll stand the rest of this watch naked. Move!”

Korolev saluted crisply, then fell back and hurriedly got into his riot gear. Atwood glanced up at Benson and motioned toward the front of the cabin. “Walk with me.”

Benson stopped once they were out of earshot of the rest of the security detail. “Would you really make him stand a shift naked?”

“Damn straight I would. Lessons need to be memorable if they're going to stick.”

“Don't judge him too harshly. Pavel's a good kid, dependable. He's just young and full of testosterone.”

Atwood nodded. “Why do you think I want to see him naked?”

Benson chuckled. “You're an attractive lady. I'm sure you could just ask nicely.”

Atwood put a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “Fraternize with a subordinate under my chain of command? That's unethical. I'm sure you agree.”

“I'm not sure I do, considering I married someone from my chain of command. Then again, I'd never considered simply ordering her to get naked on the clock.”

“I find it streamlines the process.”

“It's certainly cheaper than dating, I'll give you that.” Benson stopped and leaned against a seatback. “He's not wrong, you know.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Gunfights. I'm the only person in more than two centuries who's been in one. No amount of training or practice will prepare you for it, not even an honest-to-goodness fist fight. Your hands sweat and shake, your heart pounds out of your chest, your body does everything it can to fuck up your aim. And no one was throwing things back at me.”

“Not unless you count nuclear bombs.”

“Point,” Benson admitted.

“I hear you,” Atwood conceded. “Any advice you can offer?”

“Yeah, don't get cornered into a fight.”

“And if it can't be avoided?”

“Distance is your best friend.”

Atwood digested this. “Hey, listen, we picked the P-120 blueprints out of the archives because it's ambidextrous and dead simple to operate. We packed backups. If you download the drivers, I could link one to your plant and train you up in half an hour.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Atwood shrugged. “You've already said it. You're the only person with real experience. I only have four people against lord knows how many hundreds or thousands of potentially hostile natives. Boosting my combat strength by twenty-five percent is a no-brainer.”

Benson rubbed the back of his neck. “I see where you're coming from, and I appreciate the offer. But I'm here as a diplomat. Giving me a gun sends entirely the wrong message.”

“I understand. I'd at least like to add you to the plant link my detail uses for coordination, if that's all right?”

“That's fine.”

“OK, just keep it clear except for emergencies. The training offer is open if you change your mind.”

“Thank you, but to be honest with you, sergeant, I hope I never have to fire one of those damned things again.”

B
y the time
Kexx brought Mei back to the temple, the infighting had already broken out with a vengeance. Long-simmering divisions and arguments had been given new life when Mei and her people landed six Varrs before. The arrival of the humans' giant metal bird boiled them over. The elders and their attendants quickly split to opposing sides of the temple while the rover sat in the middle and impassively observed the two bickering camps.

Tuko's voice was the loudest, as usual, but even ze was having trouble being heard above the din as Kuul, Chak, and the rest tried to outshout and flash one another. Eventually, Tuko's patience reached its end. Tuko spun zer ceremonial spear once, then brought it crashing down on the outside of the rover hard enough to crack the shaft. That spear was over three hundred years old. It had been held by an unbroken succession of chiefs for that entire time. The sound of the ancient halo tree wood snapping bordered on heresy, but successfully shut every mouth, dimmed skin, and turned every face in Tuko's direction.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Tuko turned the broken spear shaft around in zer hands, inspecting the fracture as one would a wound. “Friends.” Tuko's voice was even, measured, quiet. But it carried through the sudden silence of the temple like a hurricane. “Our people await our wisdom. Is it too much to ask that we agree on some?” Their shamed silence dragged on as Tuko's eyes passed over every one of them in turn.

“My chief,” Kuul moved to the front of the crowd and took a knee, averting zer eyes from both Tuko and the rover, as was proper. Zer skin, however, glowed brighter than Tuko's. It was either a calculated insult, or an honest oversight from an ambitious young warrior. Kexx tended to believe the latter, but Tuko's position mandated that ze assume the former.

Tuko's skin flared bright as a torch. With a flick of the wrist, the spear in zer hand rested on the back of Kuul's neck, right on top of the bloodways that fed zer brain.

“Shall I cut, Kuul? I don't see why not, you don't seem to be using your head.”

The room froze. The threat was theatrical… mostly. But, even with a broken shaft, Kuul felt the immense weight of authority of the spear at zer neck. Kuul's skin dimmed and changed to the quick, inward-flowing dots of embarrassment and total submission. Tuko held the broken haft in place for a time, driving the lesson home before lifting the spear.

“You wished to say, Kuul?”

Kuul's skin brightened, but did not match Tuko's. Not a complete idiot, then. “My chief.” Zer eyes darted over to the now-silent rover at the center of the room. “The emissary can talk. It stands to reason that it can also
listen
.”

Tuko looked over at the rover with suspicion, then pulsed zer agreement. Without another word, everyone followed Tuko out of the temple and back into the afternoon sun.

“Thank you, chief,” Kuul said. “Our early scouts tell us there are less than thirty of them. My warriors alone are ten times their number. Let us go out to show these raiders the futility of their invasion.”

A chorus erupted in support, but a flash from Tuko silenced them. “You call it an invasion?” Ze held out a hand in Mei's direction. “Our guests have been here for many Varrs. Have they not been civil? Why just today I watched their children playing with ours. Is that typical of an invasion?”

“How can we know what's ‘typical' of these people?” Kuul pointed at Mei. “We have no idea why they're here. Maybe they're criminals. Maybe they're scouts. Maybe they were sent here, meant to look and act harmless so we would drop our guard.”

“That's preposterous,” Kexx angrily said before catching zerself.

Tuko turned to face zer. “You have something to add, truth -digger?”

Kexx straightened zer back and placed zer hands on Mei's shoulders before continuing. “Mei and I have had several conversations about their choice to come here, to meet us.”

“And you've kept these ‘conversations' to yourself?” Kuul demanded.

“A truth-digger may keep anything they learn private until their examinations are complete.”

“So we're just supposed to take your word for it, then?”

“No,” Kexx shook zer head without realizing it, a uniquely human gesture. “You're supposed to take zer's.” Kexx gently pushed Mei forward into the circle. “It's all right, Mei.”

Tuko took a step closer. “It's all right, child. You don't have to be afraid.”

Mei squared her shoulders and went even more rigid than normal. “Not afraid,” she said in passable G'tel, “And not child. Have child.”

Kexx grimaced, afraid of Tuko's reaction, but zer skin just fluttered in amusement. “Of course. Forgive me. Why did you come to our village six Varrs ago?”

“To learn. To see. Live whole life in a… cave. Wanted to explore. Tired of waiting.”

Tuko considered this for a long moment. “You lost people during the travel on your…” Ze glanced up at Kexx, looking for the unfamiliar word.

“Boat,” Kexx provided.

“Yes, your ‘boat.' Many of you didn't survive.” Mei's lower lip quivered just the slightest bit, but she remained defiant. Tuko continued. “Why didn't you just take this great bird instead? The one the other humans took?”

“Not ours. We from different village. No great birds.”

“There's more than one human village?”

Mei shook her head, then caught zerself and wiggled zer hand in the G'tel way. “Only one now. Ours empty.”

“And is this other village as big as yours was?”

Mei wiggled zer hand again. “Bigger. Much bigger.”

“Where is this village?”

Mei smirked. Kexx recognized the gesture, but doubted anyone else understood it. Ze raised a hand and pointed to the ocean, pointed up to the mysterious line in the sky, faintly visible even in daylight, then traced zer finger back down to the horizon.

“There.”

A chilled silence ran through the crowd. There had been rumors of course, suspicions that these new visitors were linked to the strange happenings in the sky. Most had seen them as omens for either good or ill, but without confirmation, rumors were all they'd been. Two of the elders dropped to their knees in prayer, while a third seemed frozen in shock. The rest resumed arguing among themselves.

Kexx had to admit, Mei had a flair for dramatic timing.

“Varr has returned to us,” one of the elders, Chak, whispered solemnly. Ze referred to an old story. The oldest, actually: of Varr, the long exiled mate of Cuut and Xis. “We must open our doors to the humans and prepare an appropriate sacrifice.”

“Is that true, Mei?” Tuko asked. “Have your people been sent to us by Varr?”

Mei stumbled. “I… um.”

“You see?” Kuul pounded a fist on zer chest. “Ze is no child of Varr. Ze can barely speak!”

“How well do you speak human, Kuul?” Kexx bit back.

“I don't,” ze announced proudly. “Why should I fill my mouth with their mud?”

“Because Mei has honored us by learning our tongue as best and as quickly as ze can.”

“As ze should. Learn to speak like a civilized person.”

Chak pushed back into the circle. “Varr has been in exile for thousands of years. How do we know zer tongue isn't the human tongue? We can barely speak to the nomadic clans.”

“Because the nomads are little better than animals.” Kuul barked. “And we should drive them off just as we would those raiders!”

Chak pressed zer small frame as close to Kuul's body as propriety would allow. “You would spit in the face of our salvation? You are a spear with no mind to wield it.”

Tuko stepped up and physically pushed the two of them apart. “So, as I understand it, our difficulty lays in whether we should worship the humans,” zer eyes darted over to Mei and back again, so quickly Kexx nearly missed it. “Or slaughter them, yes?”

A general murmur of agreement made a lap around the circle of elders.

“A stark choice.” Tuko paused. “A depressingly familiar choice. Isn't this the essence of every choice we face? Isn't this always your
wisdom
?” The slowly falling bands on zer skin froze and broke up into flickering dots, a sign of extreme frustration. No one dared answer.

Tuko absently rubbed at zer left shoulder, an old complaint from a long-ago fight with a tribe of raiders. “Mei, what do your people want? Why have they come now?”

Mei shrugged. “I don't know. We have not talked, two years.”

“I see.”

“But you won't beat them,” Mei hurried to add.

“Nonsense,” Kuul bristled. “We could beat you easily.”

“Once, maybe. Not twice.” Mei pointed back at the line in the sky. “Because they come back. More birds, more people, and many bigger spears.”

Kexx stepped in. “Mei has told me the great birds can hold many hundreds of humans. They chose not to bring that many today. Whatever they are and whoever sent them, they came to talk, not to fight.”

“You're sure of that?” Tuko said. “Sure enough to risk our village?”

“Yes,” Kexx answered without hesitating. “With an unburdened soul.”

Tuko's hand worried away at zer shoulder. “Well, I am not so fortunate, or certain. Kuul will take two fullhands warriors and–”

“Finally, wisdom!” Kuul shook zer hands in triumph while excited ribbons danced across zer skin.

“And,” Tuko's voice took on a sharpened edge, “escort our new guests into the village, where we will perform the evening cleansing and make the appropriate sacrifices. Meanwhile, Chak and a fullhand of warriors will take our bearers into Xis's temple below where they will be out of sight and safe. If that is agreeable to everyone?”

It wasn't really a question, but as Kexx looked around at the skin patterns and posture of all present, it seemed that everyone at least found the proposal equally
disagreeable
. And what was compromise, if not that?

Kuul stormed off with several warriors in zer wake, while Chak meandered away to moan with two of the other elders. The rest of the circle of elders returned to the temple. All except Tuko, who stood zer ground. Resolute, but agitated.

Kexx approached. “My chief.”

“Truth-digger. You wish to say more?”

“I wish to go out to greet the new humans and keep an eye on Kuul. As you've said, I've spent more time with them than anyone else.”

Tuko let out a short laugh. “You might return with a spear in your back.” Ze sighed, a long, heavy sigh, as if deep water squeezed at zer air sacks. “No. A truth-digger's job is to observe. I need you to keep your distance and report what you see. It may have been a mistake letting you get so close to Mei and zer people.”

“Fullo trained me to see what others cannot, or what they don't wish to see.”

“And did Fullo wish to see the inside of an ulik's belly?” Tuko snapped. “Fullo was a good truth-digger, but ze had a warrior's soul. Always getting too close, too narrow. Too…”

“Too focused?” Kexx asked pointedly.

“Perhaps,” Tuko said after a pause. “The other elders are focused enough in what they see. I need your mind to remain broad, open to different possibilities, different perspectives, if your counsel is to have value. Do you understand?”

“I understand that Kuul is scratching for a fight and will look for any excuse to start one.”

Tuko waved an arm in annoyance. “That's been true since ze first balled a fist and threw zer first punch. Chak is right about that one, ze's a spear in need of a strong hand to wield it. If Kuul starts a fight with the humans, on zer hands it be. Might be just the excuse I need to replace zer.”

“If any of us are still alive.” Kexx folded zer arms. “You've seen the rover. It's magic, Tuko. But to them, it's just a tool. If that's their idea of a plow, imagine what their spears must be like. You heard Mei, ze wasn't worried about Kuul and zer warriors in the slightest.”

“Ze may be bluffing.”

“Mei has never given me reason to doubt zer before.”

“You put a lot of faith in your pet,” Tuko said. Kexx laughed and flashed annoyance. “What's funny?”

“You saw their great bird darken the sky over our village. Are you really so convinced that
Mei
is the pet?”