Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera Page 38

  Within an hour the noonday sun had passed beyond the lip of the trench, but by that stage Fusar was drenched in sweat. Jake wasn’t faring much better, his paler skin already blistering.

  “You Nostroma aren’t adapted to the heat,” she commented.

  “We’re descended from humans,” Jake said, as if that explained everything.

  “I heard that, asshole,” Mandie said tiredly.

  Feeling a wetness at the back of her neck, Fusar wrung her braids, drawing the sweat away.

  “Those things are tough, aren’t they?” Jake asked.

  “The Jaj are ruggedized,” Fusar admitted. “But don’t be fooled, Jake. Cut the braids with a knife and even the biggest Jaj brute is an easy kill.”

  It was said that Jaj braid not only acted as a second brain but also orchestrated an advanced immune system. The price was a critical vulnerability at the back of the skull, which was why paladin units wore their famous etched helms.

  Jake gave a wry smile, his teeth bright in the shade.

  “I’m hoping I never have to find out just how easy, Fusar,” he said. “Paladins scare the shit outta me.”

  Fusar chuckled, glad for the conversation. She needed the distraction. Jake was a master at charming self-deprecation, but in truth he was more than a match for a paladin. One on one. On a good day.

  53

  The troubling, grief-soaked atmosphere gradually petered out into a mid-afternoon lull. The general consensus was to rest up and conserve energy. Mandie had found sleep, as had Verity, although her breathing was worryingly shallow.

  Fusar ran through the various exercises she’d taught herself whilst trapped in the bottom of the maggot pit back on Tranda IX. Sleep had often been hard to come by, but she’d learned to exploit what she could.

  Ever since her liberation she’d been getting severe, throbbing headaches, the kind that crippled all semblance of logic and reason. At first she’d put it down to stress, but now she knew that it was an extended withdrawal from the drugs she’d been pumped with on Tranda.

  Desiring that she remain placid and malleable while she was ‘milked’, the monks had fed her an insidious daily cocktail. There was little doubt she wouldn’t have survived as long as she did without the blanketing effect of the unknown chemicals.

  Now that she was free of all that, the full horror of her experience was seeping into her quieter moments. In a way, being trapped on Bullhead allowed her to escape herself, but sooner or later she’d need a lengthy rehabilitation program. Jake said there were certain drugs that might help her stabilize her mind and allow her to deal with the past. Before that could even be considered, she needed to survive. And that meant snatching a few hours sleep.

  She’d only just drifted off when several shouts had her leaping to her feet.

  “Another Jaj ship,” Jake muttered, his breath close in her ear.

  “Already?” Fusar asked blearily.

  “It’s midnight,” the duellist said. “They must come twice a day, just to really screw with us.”

  Fusar blinked - had she been asleep that long?

  Jake grinned. “You know, those braids tremble when you snore.”

  Fusar didn’t know what to make of that, but Mandie didn’t look too happy with the attention Jake was showing her. Flushed with embarrassment, the Jaj refugee checked on Verity. Still asleep, still only a whisper away from high fever. She was shivering under Jake’s trench coat.

  “Someone needs to stay with her,” Fusar said to Jake.

  “I’ll do it,” Mandie offered. “I have Jake’s gun if anything gets out of hand.”

  The midnight skirmish proved to be an anti-climax of sorts. Leaving a trail of electric blue, a Jaj scout soared across the star-speckled sky. A large object thudded to the open sand not far from where the cages had been dropped earlier.

  This time there were no large beasts, but Fusar was filled with a sense of disquiet as she sprinted out with Jake and some twenty lizards. She was struck with how lithe and athletic they were, even in their weakened state. The lizards reached what looked like a massive supply crate before the humans, who could be seen advancing from the north.

  The crate was leaking a steady stream of protein packs from a split corner. The lizards wasted no time in collecting the bounty. Some of the them wore belts and were able to tuck several packs away before retreating. Fusar and Jake followed suit, falling back before the humans could arrive. A couple of plasma blasts flared magenta in the night, but the shots were more hopeful than anything else.

  “They’re pissed,” Jake said with malicious glee as the pair returned to the trench. The lizards grunted in excitement as they passed around the protein packs.

  Fusar had a nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. Surely the Jaj wouldn’t simply feed them and be done with it?

  “They could be fostering resentment between the factions,” Jake said, reading her expression by the dim light cast by their wristpads.

  Fusar wasn’t so sure. If the skirmishes were broadcast as some kind of sick entertainment, then there must be a sting in the tail here somewhere.

  “Gimme your knife,” she said to Jake. She stabbed one of the protein packs and squeezed some of the gray substance along the base of the wall. A rat was immediately sniffing around, darting out of its hole and sampling the bait. It ate most of Fusar’s sample before withdrawing.

  “Like I always say,” Jake said with a grin. “If it’s good enough for a rat …”

  “Wait,” Fusar warned, kneeling before the rat hole. The rodent’s twitching corpse was just inside.

  “Stop the lizards,” she said urgently. “What’s their word for poison?”

  “I have no idea,” Jake said, already moving in the opposite direction. “But if you’re not back here in ten I’m coming after you.”

  Fusar moved along a trench illuminated by one of Bullhead’s three silvery moons. She tripped over several prone lizards, many of them grunting in alarm.

  “Poison,” she warned, holding out a protein pack. “This is poison.”

  The lizards looked blankly at her. By all accounts they were intelligent creatures, far more intelligent than some races gave them credit for. They knew she was warning them but probably weren’t sure if they could trust her.

  Finding no success with her current strategy, Fusar went back for the rat. Holding it by the tail, she held it before her like a macabre torch. This time her message gained traction, and the lizards seemed to spread the word.

  Amazingly, hardly any had consumed the protein, opting instead to store it away. Fusar could only admire their prudence and discipline in the face of extreme hunger.

  Once she was sure the lizards were sufficiently informed, she made her way back to the others. Jake had already finished his run, also reporting success. The duellist probably had subtle neural tricks had his disposal, abilities Fusar would never comprehend. The main thing was that the lizards were saved. Even better, she might have established a certain measure of trust. She settled down next to Verity and found sleep easy to come by despite the biting cold.

  A piercing ray of sunlight drew her from much-needed sleep. Jake was sitting against the opposite wall, his face drained of color.

  “Most of them are dead,” he said quietly.

  Fusar looked up and down the trench. The narrow passage was strewn with lizard corpses. The survivors were already dragging them to some unseen graveyard.

  “The ground water,” Jake said. “They were feeding off a trickle further up. Poison from the protein was designed to spread freely in water.”

  Fusar felt liker her insides had been scooped out. The thought of all these lizards dying from what had appeared to be relief aid was almost too much to bear. She swallowed her anger, knowing it wouldn’t get her anywhere, but resolved never to forget what had happened here. Under her peoples’ watch. The shame of it all cut like a knife.

  Fusar’s throat was bone dry. Jake usually carried a few saline tabs in his belt b
ut they were surely exhausted. And if ground water wasn’t an option, then what?

  “We need to make some moves,” she said. “And soon.”

  “Agreed,” Jake said. “Up the trench I was stopped by an older lizard. She seemed to think there was another Nostroma further up the line.”

  “We should go check it out,” Mandie said. “If we stay here we won’t last another day.”

  In better news, Verity’s situation had improved against the odds. Thanks to Jake’s unidentified powder, her wound had sealed and she was now alert to her surroundings. The last saline tabs had gone to her, which was only just. She needed extra hydration after the physical trauma she’d been through. The death of Sweet Jean wouldn’t have helped either.

  Showing a toughness that seemed inherent to the Le Sondre family, Verity got to her feet and seemed ready to move. The four of them began moving rapidly along the trench. The next skirmish was due in a few hours and there was much ground to cover.

  The situation to the west was dire. The trench was filled with lizard men, women and children. Their corpses had piled up quicker than they could be removed. The mood among the few survivors had morphed from grief to morbid resignation.

  “The humans will smash the next skirmish,” Fusar commented.

  “That isn’t necessarily good for them,” Jake said. “The Jaj will try and balance the scales.”

  Fusar had to agree. This whole set up seemed designed to sustain the carnage for as long as possible. It was worse than grotesque, it was … cowardly. She never thought she’d associate that word with her people.

  The unwanted sun was beginning to fill the trench when the quartet reached a four-way intersection. A gangly figure, Nostroma by the look of it, sat slumped against the wall by a pool of fetid water. Fusar was tempted to scoop a handful into her mouth but it wasn’t worth the risk. No ground water could be trusted now.

  “Welcome, welcome,” said the prisoner through cracked, bleeding lips. “It’s been a while since I saw a tandem.”

  Jake exchanged a glance with Verity. Of course - a stranger would think Jake and Verity were working in tandem.

  “How did you get here?” Jake asked, kneeling beside the prone man. The no-fuss duellist was quick to dig for intel - this was no time for mercy or sentiment.

  “Name’s Wendell,” rasped the man. “Worked solo through the Uoppa system. Deep cover. Jaj smoked me and sent me here. How nice of them.”

  “How long?” Jake asked urgently.

  “Two weeks,” came the reply.

  “Can you walk?” Mandie asked.

  Wendell lifted a knife and stabbed himself in the leg. The blood seeped into the pool.

  “Useless,” he said bitterly. “Can’t be long now.”

  Jake’s smile was grim.

  “We want out,” he said. “Any tips, friend?”

  “Sorry,” Wendell croaked. “You’re all as good as dead.”

  Fusar’s heart sank. No one said anything for several moments.

  “The humans have launchers,” Mandie said. “Is there some way of adapting the tech, making it stronger?”

  “Those weapons are closed systems,” the Nostroma said, shaking his head.

  “The hardware, yes,” Jake said thoughtfully. “But not the munition.”

  Wendell’s sudden laugh was slightly unhinged.

  “Good luck to you,” he said cheerfully. “I needed some entertainment.”

  The man was souped up on battle stims or something similar. Fusar didn’t blame him at all. The endless round of sun, cold and battle would be enough to send most sentients around the bend.

  “What can you tell us about the Jaj?” Jake asked softly.

  The deep cover operative glanced at Fusar before replying.

  “Bullhead is what a Kingdom in decline looks like,” he said. “Frajaa House is still in charge but crippled by paranoia. The Jaj have always been rather provincial but these guys are something else. All foreign embassies were dissolved weeks ago, which is a very bad sign. The Jaj have never been so insular and I think they’re gonna be easy pickings for the simians.”

  “How will the next phase play out?” Fusar asked.

  “The Cava05 have the Jaj surrounded,” came the reply. “Your kind were the only ones strong enough to stand up to them, but now it’s too late. The simians will smash you into little pieces and win ascension from the Norgaardi.”

  “You don’t believe that bullshit, do you?” Jake said harshly. “The Norgaardi mean to invade, pure and simple. They just need the Cava05 to clear a path.”

  “Believe what you want,” Wendell said. “All I know is the Jaj aren’t in a position to do jack shit. Bullhead demonstrates how far they’ve fallen.”

  The prisoner’s bitter laughter ended in a bloody cough.

  “Let’s move on,” Fusar said, mindful of disease. “Maybe we can negotiate with the humans for one of their launchers.”

  “Perhaps,” Jake said, stroking the stubble on his chin. “But I’m gonna feel dirty doing it.”

  Everyone automatically looked at Mandie.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said defensively. “I have no affinity with those assholes. I’ve also never met a lizard I didn’t end up respecting the shit out of.”

  It was a telling remark. Fusar was glad to have Mandie on board in case things got ugly with the humans. After all, she knew first hand how duplicitous they could be.

  “Let’s press on,” Jake said, scanning the sky worriedly.

  “Before you go,” said Wendell, looking contrite after his earlier scorn. “I profiled Cava05 placements along their invasion vector. The Jaj interrogated me, but, you know, I’m Nostroma.”

  There was note of pride in the dying spy’s voice and Jake seemed to soften a little.

  “The Jaj are our only chance,” the duellist said. “Anything you know is worth a lot to us.”

  Wendell considered this for a moment before shrugging.

  “Seven years of reconnaissance tells me that the Cava05 will squeeze and squeeze until the Jaj break. They’re too well organized to have weak links. They’re relentless. A pitched space battle is out of the question. The Jaj fleet will be slaughtered.”

  Jake’s shoulders slumped. Fusar also felt a knot of disappointment in her guts. If they couldn’t defeat the Cavan fleet, what hope did they have?

  “Find a way to use the paladins,” Wendell urged. “They are far and away the best ground units in the galaxy. If you can manufacture a battle on Jaj terms, you might just have a chance. Pity that’s not going to happen.”

  Jake looked up at Fusar. She’d never seen doubt in his eyes before and it shocked her. He was usually so laconic, so in control.

  “At least we know what we’re dealing with,” she said. “You have my thanks, Wendell.”

  The spy waved his hand weakly. He seemed too weak for further conversation.

  54

  The quartet moved on, tackling the westbound trench. Verity was moving freely but looked drained. Part of their negotiations with the humans needed to involve saline. To complicate matters, noon wasn’t far away and violence would soon visit them again.

  The water-soluble toxin had ensured that lizard ranks were depleted in these trenches, but fresh prisoners were probably hauled in regularly. Bullhead was nothing more than a slaughterhouse for undesirables.

  The east-west trenches were deserted for good reason. They were baked ten hours a day and there wasn’t a drop of moisture to be seen. They pressed on despite the fierce heat, eager to reach the humans before the next Jaj trigger drop.

  At length the trench began to twist south, but the sun was directly above them and allowed no respite. A dark shape resolved itself through the haze some four hundred yards down the trench. A rectangular entrance.

  “Bunker,” Jake said. “The humans have been busy.”

  “More established than the other factions,” Mandie said.

  The approach was dangerous. Jake took point, pistol drawn but
lowered. The quartet advanced cautiously, passing through the doorway unmolested. Fusar blinked several times as she adjusted to the darkness.

  There were several male and female humans in a circular room. All wore crude armor fashioned from scrap steel and brandished rudimentary spears and halberds.

  A burly man stepped forward, the tip of his barbed spear and inch from Jake’s face.

  “Just landed?”

  Fusar breathed a sigh of relief - perhaps the humans hadn’t seen them associating with the lizards.

  Jake nodded. “Take us to someone important,” he drawled.

  The spearman removed his impractical helmet to reveal a pale face girded by a ginger beard.

  “Do you know what a barbed spear can do to a man?” he sneered. “In and out without you even realizing it. Just when you relax, thinking I’ve barely laid a scratch, your bowel comes free. I can tease it out, nice and slow, until I’ve stretched it across the goddam room.”

  “And that’s why I know you’re not important,” Jake said calmly. “Powerful men don’t need to make themselves look big.”

  Fusar stifled a smile. Jake had been around the block so many times that nothing fazed him. It made her feel safe, even when she had no right to.

  “You have a snakehead wit’ you,” Ginger observed. “Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’t kill it.”

  OK - that changed things a little. Fusar shifted uncomfortably on her feet but kept her mouth shut.

  “Look at her the wrong way and I won’t be untangling your bowel,” Jake said. “Death will come much quicker than that.”

  The spearman’s amateurish need for a stand-off had run its course. He backed away and gestured to a second doorway.

  “I’ll be watchin’,” he said.

  “Wonderful,” Jake said, eager to get this over and done with.

  An older man sat in a lotus position in the next room. He had to be at least sixty, with a body like knotted wire. Bare-chested, he was probably the only one dressed appropriately for the heat. He looked at the newcomers with a cheerful smile, his cloudy eyes betraying some kind of disease. To speak, he held a black device against his throat so the words could be digitally enhanced.

  “You look to be a capable bunch,” he said. “What can I do for you?”