Weapons of War (30 page)

It had allowed him to hide from Gr'el's patrols as they began to hunt him. It had allowed him to drop down on them unaware, to destroy an entire squad of clones and vanish back into the dark. It had permitted him to put fear into the pur'dahm traitor, to show him that he would not be an easy kill and that if he wanted to maintain control of the Ishur he would need to earn it.

Of course, the odds were still against him. Every drumhr who may have been loyal to him had been retired and almost every clone that had lived before they arrived in Pol'tik had been destroyed.

Almost every clone.

He had seen Zoelle earlier, walking the corridors from her lab with her two assistants, who were also Children of the Un'hai. She had passed one of Gr'el's patrols unharmed, an act that proved to him beyond all doubt that she had betrayed him, earning his trust and then turning on him at her convenience. She had helped Gr'el make his new clones in secret, knowing what the Si'dahm planned. He didn't know how they had managed to make this alliance ahead of time before he had even been assigned to the Ishur in the first place.

He was about to find out.

The back routes of the fortress were narrow and normally occupied by drek'er, Cleaners, small-statured clones who were in charge of maintaining the inner workings of the ship. They would skitter about from one location to another in a constant cycle, testing power outputs, optimizing flow, and ensuring that the millions of components remained in working order. The fortresses didn't require much maintenance, but constant monitoring was what kept them that way.

The Cleaners were in another part of the ship, and so their passages were barren. Tea'va was able to move through them unhindered, without worry of being captured. While he was sure Gr'el knew the corridors existed, he also doubted the pur'dahm had any idea where they were or how to reach them. His rival also probably couldn't conceive of traveling like this. It was an affront to their ideas of honor. One that had allowed humankind to survive far too long.
 

It was a weakness he was not afraid to exploit.
 

The passage took him behind the private cells assigned to each member of the crew. This deck was for the scientists, Zoelle and her lor'hai. He had seen her return here earlier. He knew she would be inside, likely asleep.
 

From that passage, there was a small crawlspace that went up and over the top of the cells, an area purposely left open for ventilation. Tea'va pulled himself up into the narrow space, for a moment frightened that he would get stuck there as the floor and ceiling pressed against him. He pulled himself along on his elbows; his head cocked to the side to fit it through the passage, stopping as he reached the center of one of the cells. A thin screen separated him from it, one that he could peer down through at the occupant. An un'hai, but not Zoelle. While they were identical in appearance, he was certain he would know her when he saw her. This one was asleep in her bed, mouth open and head lolled to the side.
 

He continued, dragging his body through the tight confines to the next cell. He looked down into it. The un'hai inside was sitting up in bed, staring at the wall.

"I knew you would come," Zoelle said without shifting her gaze.

How did she know he was there?

He held back the sudden rage he felt at her betrayal. She was calm and collected. He had to be the same.

"Why?" he said. It was the only word he could manage without his voice shaking.

"I told you why," she replied. "Power."

He clenched his fists; his knuckles white around the grip of his weapon. "I offered you power."

"You offered me something you don't yet have. Gr'el offered me something he already controls. It is not personal, Tea'va."

She didn't use his title. He bristled at that while he angled his plasma pistol, getting it into position to end her life.
 

"I trusted you."

"That was the idea. You are so aloof from the others, and you are so suspicious. It makes you easier to manipulate, not harder."

"What did he promise you? To be his heil'bek? To overthrow the Domo'dahm with him, as I did?"
 

There was so little space; it was hard to get a bead on her from where he was. He could spray the room with plasma. It would have to be enough.
 

"Yes. And he has already delivered the first of those. He has named me his heil'bek and afforded me Si'dahm status on the Ishur. A clone as a Si'dahm, Tea'va. It is the first time." She looked up at the screen now, though she couldn't see him through it. "You disregarded me. You removed me from the bridge before the battle. That was one of your mistakes."

"If you are Si'dahm, why are you still down here?"

"Because I knew you would come. Of the things you are and are not, Tea'va, I will agree that you are resourceful; however, I would not judge you intelligent."

Tea'va felt his heart pulse. He knew what she was saying, and she was right. He shouldn't have lingered when he saw that she was waiting. What was he thinking?

He didn't waste time shooting. There was no point to it now. He should never have been there at all. Why had he come?
 

He began to push himself back, fighting against the friction of the small space to return to the corridor. He could hear the sounds now. The soldiers were coming for him.
 

Fool. He was a fool. All of that time and energy wasted, and for what? A word with a traitor? He had gained little from her. Only that he now knew Gr'el also intended to kill the Domo'dahm. Was that something he would survive long enough to use?

He slid along the top of the passage, feeling a bit of relief as his legs came clear of the floor and dangled down. One last push and he was free, back upright and clear.
 

He looked to his left. A squad of soldiers was approaching.
 

He looked to his right. Another squad.

He held up his weapon. He was going to die in here if he didn't do something.

He looked both ways once more. Then he dropped the weapon and put his hands out.

"I submit," he shouted, the taste of it like acid on this tongue. "I submit."

They didn't kill him right away. It would have been against their laws to do so. A pur'dahm who surrendered had the right to retire themselves after a suitable time for preparation that usually consisted of composing a history of their life and accomplishments.
 

As the soldiers led him from the back routes to the main corridor, Tea'va thought about how little he had accomplished and how many of his deeds had ended in failure. For all of his goals and plans, was Zoelle right about him? Was he simply not very intelligent?
 

It was an idea that was difficult for him to accept. An idea that he refused to give in to. Bad luck, that's all that it was. A history of close calls and late decisions. He had been so close to shooting down the Heil'shur. He had almost been a hero before this journey. Before the opportunity had arisen for it to all fall apart.
 

Zoelle met the soldiers in the corridor; her head held high as she reached them. They bowed before her, causing her to smile.
 

"I see you surrendered," she said. "It won't save your life."

He looked at her without speaking. He was done with her. With all of them. He was the future of the bek'hai. His story was not fully written yet.
 

"Do you have anything you want to say?" she asked.
 

He didn't respond.
 

"Very well. You will be returned to your room and allowed one day to prepare, in accordance with our laws. Don't think to delay your retirement somehow. Gr'el will not allow it."

She turned on her heel, heading away from him. He watched her go. He hadn't bothered to kill her before. When he did, he would make sure she looked him in the eye.
 

The lead soldier pointed him in the opposite direction. He walked ahead of them, unencumbered. He was still a pur'dahm. He still commanded respect.
 

He led his captors through the hallway toward a transport beam. The squad leader took his arm when they reached it, a precaution against him trying to escape. He clenched his teeth at the touch. It was demeaning to be handled by a lor'hai. It had been demeaning to surrender to one.
 

He stepped into the beam, transporting himself up to the officer's quarters. One of the bridge crew was there, and he looked away as Tea'va passed. Another traitor to his Dahm. Tea'va wanted to destroy him. He glared at the drumhr as he passed, but still didn't speak. He decided he would not speak again. Not to traitors. Not to lor'hai. He was done with words. He needed a way out.
 

He expected that Gr'el would be in his quarters when he arrived. He assumed the pur'dahm would come to gloat and to mock. He had done so little to succeed in outmaneuvering the most advanced drumhr bek'hai science had produced. All it had taken was a single un'hai to disarm the one who claimed not to be taken with them.
 

Gr'el wasn't there. Neither was the Mother he had killed. His room was empty and clean, as though he still owned it. As though he was still commanding the Ishur.
 

It was a greater statement than anything the pur'dahm could have said in person, and it drove Tea'va to slam his fists against the walls in anger.

He caught himself a moment later. He had been foolish, and displaying his anger would only make him more so. He needed to be calm and think clearly. He was still growing weaker from his time outside of the regeneration chamber. He could spend some time in it, heal his body and his mind and still be able to... To what? He had surrendered. It was on his honor to retire himself. What use would healing be for that?

He crossed the room to his terminal. Surely he had done something in his life worth recording? Surely not all of it could be a failure? He had risen to the Second Cell after all. He had convinced the Domo'dahm to give him command of the Ishur.

Or had he? Did the Domo'dahm really want him as a successor? He was more human than any of the other drumhr.
 

Was he too human?

He glanced out of the viewport at the end of his quarters, staring into space. He had never considered that possibility before. His functional sex organs and his ability to breathe Earth's atmosphere freely were supposed to be the herald of bek'hai resurgence, but what if everything else about him was loathsome? His skin. His lips. The smoothness of his skull. What if his refusal to breed had made him expendable? Had given the Domo'dahm cause to want to displace him or at least to allow it?

His anger flared again. He was a bigger fool than he had even realized. The Domo'dahm hadn't given him command of the Ishur as an opportunity to earn his place. He had set him up to fail. He had set him up to die.

There had to be a way out. He would think of something. He approached the viewport, still looking out into space. He could see the light from the human starship's main thrusters ahead of them. All he wanted was one more chance at the Heil'shur. One more battle to decide who was the superior pilot.
 

He felt something wet on his eye, and he reached up and lifted it with his finger. He stared at it for a moment. A tear? Was he crying? Bek'hai didn't cry. Drumhr couldn't cry. None, except for him.
 

He blinked a few times, and then wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his gori'shah. He was pathetic. Simply pathetic.

He looked out the viewport again. He let his eyes trail along the space ahead of him, expecting them to come to rest on the glow of the thrusters once more.

He froze when he didn't see them, squinting his eyes and leaning closer to the clear lek'shah until his head was pressed against it. He found the human ship a moment later.

It was coming about, and heading straight for them.

"Alpha Squadron, report," Gabriel said as he slid down into the seat of his starfighter.