The Admiral and the Assistant

141 - Warning



Lieutenant Hala Osira trembled as she watched the Cryptographers chitter and click at each other. They were in their meeting chamber, arrayed in their circle, but there were only a few in the chamber here today.

Not that she minded having fewer Cryptographers to deal with.

To her horror, she'd discovered that she was beginning to understand a little of their speech, to catch the edges of their conversations. Today, among other things, they were discussing the Solution, and the Feeders.

Their chittering filled the chamber. She could pull out little phrases: "can't enter jumpspace," "more should leave," "enough chroniclers," and similar such snippets, all unmoored from anything that made sense.

The worst part was that there was no way she should be learning their language. They rarely, if ever, spoke in Common. And the things she was picking up were phrases she'd nothing ever heard.

She felt as though she were sinking deeper and deeper in an ocean of mystery, far from shore on an alien planet. Her notepad and pencil clattered to the floor unheeded. Her hands crept up to the sides of her head and covered her ears, pressing so hard her it made her head ache.

The voices didn't quiet, didn't dim. Phrases still floated into her mind from the assembly of Cryptographers. Tears spilled from her eyes.

What were they pushing into her mind?

One of the Cryptographers paused speaking and looked directly at her, its blank round goggles fixed on her.

A phrase filled her mind, as clear as loud as a shout.

"The final Facilitator. It will not be much longer."

A sob erupted from her and she collapsed to her knees.

Five more months. Hala didn't know if she could make it. No promotion was worth this.

The Kobolds on Takkar stirred in their cave. It was early afternoon, in the heat of the day, and they were loungin, spread out on the cave floor, hiding from the sun in the cool dimness. Cooking fires were left banked, emitting almost no heat in the humid air. Kobolds napped or sang quietly, enjoying the peace in the middle of a Summer day.

A narrow slice of light from the cave entrance shone high on the back wall. A shadow fell across it. Several of the Kobolds perked up, to see what was coming into the cave.

A ragged Terran stumbled in through the jagged entrance. His hair was matted, and his clothes were tattered. His frame was broad, but he was thin and gaunt, as though he didn't have quite enough skin to cover his whole skeleton.

He cleared the cave entrance and stood there, weaving. All the Kobolds had their heads up now.

"It is a Terran," they muttered.

"It is not like Grimthornstonefist the Stormfigther."

"It has traveled far."

"This one is sick."

The Kobolds drew back. A few of the hunters lifted spears.

"Is it sick? Is it catching? Did it bring sickness to the cave?"

One of the braver hunters, Krundle, stepped forward, spear in hand.

"Why are you here?" he said. He held his spear forward, not threatening, but clearly ready to use. "Why have you come to our home?"

The man slowly focused on the Kobold.

"I am Elias," he croaked. "Doom comes for you all. Death stalks you."

The Kobolds rustled and muttered and drew together in spite of the heat outside.

"Doom?" they said.

"It comes with a warning."

"It is not healthy."

"Perhaps it has already suffered the doom."

Krundle the hunter frowned.

"What doom comes?" he said. He shook his spear. "We will fight it. We have brave hunters and strong spears, and now we have blasters from the Imperium. We have fought the cat-bears and we can fight this doom."

Elias fixed the Kobold with a piercing gaze.

"Death stalks. The Feeders come. They come to eat you all."

"Then let them come," the hunter said with a snarl.

One of the older Kobolds, Vek the Elder, stepped forward and laid a hand on the spear he held.

"Many creatures would eat Kobolds. What form does the predator take?" Vek asked. "Does it stalk among the trees like a cat-bear? Does it slither on the ground like a poison-worm? Does it hide in the water, then strike when you draw near, like a rockpaw?"

"They come from the skies!" Elias cried. He gestured wildly. "They will come in their hundreds and in their thousands. Their ships will descend in a ravenous swarm. None of them will touch the ground, yet they will snatch you up, each of you. They have eaten Brolla. They have destroyed Techterra. Now they come for you."

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The Kobolds eyed each other worriedly. Vek the Elder thought for a moment, nodding to himself.

"If this enemy eats Imperials, it is not a thing that we can fight," he said finally. The hunter stuck his chin out. The elder raised an eyebrow, and the hunter slowly lowered his head. "When the poison-worms cover the ground, where do we go?"

"Up in the trees!" cried the cave full of Kobolds.

"And when the rockpaws fill the lake, what do we do?"

"Stay away from the shore!"

"And when the cat-bears come out of the forest, where do we go?"

"The cave!"

The elder nodded and closed his eyes.

"When predators arrive, the Kobolds find a place of safety. This new predator crawls through the skies." He opened his eyes. "The Kobolds will go to the Deep."

Mutters circled the cave. Worried frowns were shared between neighbors. Eyes darted to a collection of shadows far in the back of the cave, a yawning blackness.

"Deep is cold."

"The Deep is dark."

"Deep is scary."

Vek held up his hands.

"Deep is safety," he said. "If the predator is high, then the Kobolds must go low. As low as we can."

More chatter from the assembled Kobolds.

"We will hide."

"The sky-predators will not find us."

"The Deep will protect us."

The mutters were getting lighter, more agreeable, but their voices were still filled with weighty worry.

Elias stood to one side, tears standing in his eyes. Finally, someone was listening. Finally, someone was heeding the warning.

Perhaps he had a purpose after all. Perhaps some could be saved.

Vek the elder turned back to him.

"We thank you for your warning, traveler," the elder said. "Would you tell the other caves what we are doing? They can all go to the Deep. All caves are one, in the Deep."

Elias snatched Vek's hand and shook it vigorously.

"I will," he swore. "I will tell every cave, every Kobold. I will tell every one I can." His eyes were alight. "I will bring the warning that will save the citizens."

He whirled and dashed for the mouth of the cave as the elder began organizing his people for the journey ahead.

Herin spun in his egg. His transformation was nearly complete. His body was long and segmented, curled tightly in its protective shell. His eyes, no longer human, were now black and shining, on extended stalks. Learning to see effectively with eyes that could turn any which way, independent of each other, had been a real challenge, but he was beginning to get the hang of it. His hundreds of tiny arms wriggled, stirring the amniotic fluid that warmed and buoyed him.

Unfortunately, the sustenance that had been flowing into his egg had slowed to a trickle. The ship was running low, and needed to restock soon.

Part of being a Feeder, Herin discovered, was a roaring, insatiable, endless hunger. Always, always, the cry of the stomach sang to him.

There had been murmuring and complaints from the other Ash-Tongues. Many of them wanted to flee to their other gardens, other galaxies, and leave this one alone as too dangerous. But Herin knew that if they left the Imperium alone, they'd continue to grow. It would only be a matter of time before they found a way to cross the gaps between galaxies, to expand. Then the Feeders would have to deal with them again, from an even worse position.

They had to crush the Imperium. Now and forever. Then they could go back to their peaceful garden-gathering.

Herin clicked and growled in frustration. The battle over Techterra should have been the only battle. They'd slapped the defenses of the Imperium down so soundly that the Navy should never have gotten back up again. But his brethren, ever fearful, had fled on the very cusp of victory.

And that execrable Admiral Stonefist. Instead of crawling away with his tail between his legs like he should have, he had the gall to scrape together more ships, to stand against them again.

How many times did the man need to be defeated before he finally gave up?

Herin ground his mandibles. The foolish Admiral would be destroyed. It was only a matter of time.

Admiral Stonefist thought he was safe behind his Wraithfleet. But time was on Herin's side now. They'd see how well the Navy fought without their spooky, time-bending ships.

Even though Herin had never been much interested in Naval matters, everyone knew about Admiral Stonefist. He famously did not care about his homeworld, Dorvalla, but he did care about his Kobold wife.

Herin's arms wriggled with glee.

Once Admiral Stonefist and his wife were out of the way, there would only ever be feeding, Ash-Tongues guided directly to each populated planet, slurping off the fat of the galaxy.

But this next target was going to be personal.

Admiral Stonefist sat at his desk and frowned as he reviewed the reports from Engineering.

"The support stanchions are weakened," he said. "Power couplings throughout the ship are either blown or damaged enough to cause fluctuations. Something's wrong with the inertial damper array, we keep cracking dampers. The Swordheart needs a complete refit and overhaul. It won't take much stress in the way of maneuvers." He sighed. "Not that we can do many maneuvers with only one engine." He leaned back and looked sadly at the walls around him. "So many systems are mangled. Perhaps the Swordheart is simply too damaged. If we survive the Feeders, or if it turns into a long battle... we should consider decommissioning the Swordheart."

"No, sir!" Kinnit cried vehemently. Grimthorn's eyebrows came up at her tone. "The Swordheart is not just a ship!" she continued. "It's a symbol of the Imperium! We might as well decommission Olympus while we're at it!" Grimthorn's weary eyes crinkled into a smile as she continued to speak passionately. "The Swordheart is our strength, our symbol of hope! And I won't countenance our shining spear being put out to pasture because of a bunch of Feeders." She snarled, holding up a fist. "The Swordheart will be there watching as the last Feeder is destroyed!"

Grimthorn laughed and held his hands up in surrender.

"Ah, my fierce love," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "Very well. We'll keep the Swordheart going. It's still got a good reactor and plenty of weaponry." He eyes flicked to his console. "We don't have many other options anyway." His expression became more serious. "We'll need continue our manual power management, though. Are you willing to stay on the weapons console?"

"Yes! Whatever it takes."

"All right, noted. I need to have a word with Lieutenant Phet, some of the navigational controls are going to need manual handling as well. That's going to complicate his work. Lieutenant Renning can help coordinate. That said, we will need to continue to rebuild the Navy. This Feeder boneship... if that weapon is well and truly gone, then we're at a stalemate until the Feeders fix their beam weapon. They don't have any way of striking at us, and we don't have enough firepower to destroy them."

"As long as we've got the Wraithfleet, we can hold them off," Kinnit said.

Grimthorn nodded. "Yes, that's our best defense at the moment. Hopefully we can keep them away long enough to rebuild the Navy. Or figure out a way to destroy them utterly. Absent some new technology, though, I don't see how we'll ever be able to defeat them."

"I know you'll find a way, Grimthorn."

Admiral Stonefist grimaced.

"I'll try. It may just be that this is the way of the galaxy now. They'll attack a settlement or planet, we'll respond and shoo them off." He shook his head. "I hate that math. We're not protecting citizens that way. We're only limiting the damage the Feeders do. But if I must, I will do that all the rest of my life, to protect as many citizens as I can."

"I'll be by your side," Kinnit side. "I would die by your side, defending you and the Imperium, my two great loves."

Grimthorn chuckled and blushed a little.

"Well, I don't know that I can compete for love with an entire galaxy."

Kinnit smiled at him, then her eyes grew distant as she considered. "Maybe the Cryptographers can help us figure something out?" she asked, looking thoughtful. "Isn't this all part of their 'Solution?'"

Grimthorn shook his head, his mouth tightening.

"They won't respond to me any more. They've abandoned the Solution. Abandoned us. The Cryptographers have turned tail." He sighed. "It's all up to us now."


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