New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Apollonia stumbled down the hall, trying to shake off the effects of blacking out.

She hadn’t been the only one; most people in the room apparently had gone unconscious during the maneuver.

She had come to with the doors open and the speakers blaring out for all Response personnel to report to their action stations.

And that’s where she was going.  But she still felt dizzy, unable to even quite understand what was going on.  A drone had scanned her and told her she had no aneurysms or other health issues, that she was fit to report for duty.  That she’d be okay in a few moments.

She didn’t feel okay.

“Good luck!” the woman, Ann, who had been next to her said as she left.

Only after the door had sealed had she realized she’d left her tablet in there.

“All crew!” Brooks’s voice came through the speakers in the halls.  “Brace for impacts!”

An emergency seat popped out of the wall, and she threw herself into it, the webbing lashing itself around her-

Almost not in time.  The ship shook and she was thrown forward in her webbing.  Everything rattled – then it rattled again.  She lost count of how many impacts there were – though she couldn’t count very well in her present state.

“Hull breaches detected,” the words came.  “All civilians remain in safety bunkers.  All Response personnel, report to assigned stations and await further commands.”

She was going to need full vac gear.

Other alerts played, as the webbing released her.

They phrased things in that official sort of way, but the gist was clear, even to her.

Be prepared for dead or dying people.

Be ready to die.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she knew she had to finish putting on her vac suit.  Even if just for her own safety; if something punched through the ship, it was always better to have yourself covered.

Though maybe getting blasted out alive into the dark was worse than a quick death.

Her knees felt weak.

She slapped the door open panel on a room and ducked inside.  Putting her back to the wall, she slid to the floor and couldn’t make herself stand up.

She couldn’t do it.

---

“All but three accounted for!” the call came.

Across the ship, the Response Volunteers had gone to where they’d been assigned.  There were two reported injuries – nothing seriously, thank the stars – and one no-show.

Vakulinchuk squinted at the list to see who the no-show was, adrenaline making it hard to focus on fine details.

Apollonia Nor.

He flicked the notification away, and looked to the teams assembled before him, his image going out to every Volunteer.

“Your assignments are issued, get those breaches sealed, watch for rooms that may still have pressure and therefore people inside!  Move!”

The teams reacted, moving – if not skillfully, then at least determinedly.  One short that they should be.  But now was not the time to worry about that.  Things happened.  He just hoped she wasn’t hurt out there and no one knew.

He heard a clunking, and saw a hatch open, with the new Abmon officer who had transferred aboard.

“Sir,” he said, through his rocky grumbling.  “My post is not far from a breach, but is intact.  I’m quite strong and naturally resist vacuum.  Permission to help?”

His system came up with the relevant information; even if his last tests had been awhile ago, He That Squats on Yellow Sand was qualified for non-combat duty, without a doubt.

A short-handed team could sure use the strength of an Abmon . . .

“Accepted,” he barked, sending to the Armorer his orders.  “Get down to your assigned team and help them, they’ll be expecting you.”

Squants on Sand saluted, and began to amble away at what was – for an Abmon – rather fast.  “I will not let you down, sir!” he said sincerely.

---

Pirra saw the notification come up.

The fire in front of her demanded more of her attention, but her team were veterans of more than a few burning oxygen leaks.  The flames sputtered, then died.

“That’s the last one!” Kiseleva said through the comm.  Pirra could see her mouth moving, but only hear her through the radio.

To her right was open space, where the missile had torn a breach through the outer hull, leaving a ten-meter gap.  The edges were being closed rapidly by heavy drones, crawling along the inner hull, carrying small plates they fused together.  In a matter of minutes they’d have it fully sealed, even if it wouldn’t stand up to most weapons.

“All team, back to rendezvous,” she ordered.  “And good work.”

She trotted out with the others.  No one wanted to be in an open area if they got hit again, though for at least a few more seconds they were expecting silence.

She looked at her alarm again.

He That Squats on Yellow Sand had joined one of the short-handed Volunteer Response teams.

Annoyance flashed through her that the Abmon had gone around her orders, but at least it was a non-combat unit . . .

He was rated for that, at least.

She sent a priority message, to both he and Vakulinchuk, who had signed off on his joining.

“Once he helps his team with their immediate vital issues, Squats on Sand is to report back to his post without delay,” she said sharply.

She grabbed a handhold and got another warning of a high-G maneuver.  The ship was about to go into a spin.

Her team moved quickly and were strapped in.  The main computer monitored everyone it could, to determine when it could safely begin the maneuver, but it would only wait so long.

She checked the monitoring systems, saw that Alexander and Elliot were safe, in a bunker deep in the ship.  Then Iago; he, too, was reaching safety, somewhere near the equator ring.  He pinged as he strapped in, and she felt as content as she could.

“Hold on,” she said calmly to her unit.  No one looked alarmed, even as the entire ship began to spin.

Then the ‘G-SHOCK IMMINENT’ alarm went off.  The ship’s massive coilguns were warming up . . . about to fire.

Oh, they were in the shit now, she thought.

---

< Ep 6 Part 39 | Ep 6 Part 41 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“Initializing zerodrive systems . . .”  Urle said.

Warning lights covered the boards, telling them that they lacked sufficient energy needed to create a rift between realities.  Brooks had already input his override codes, and gave a final confirmation.

“Fusion reactors are stable, beginning the distortion field . . . gravity fields increasing . . . tenkionic attraction increasing . . .”

Urle’s voice was calm, but a note of alarm came into it.

“Aperture is trying to open – Fisc, I hope it doesn’t actually open . . .  No, the aperture is not stabilizing.  Repeat, it’s trying, but we are not getting an opening.”

He looked up at Brooks.  “We are accelerating towards it.”

Brooks leaned forward in his seat, crossing his hands in front of his face.  They felt nothing yet.  The pseudo-gravity of the aperture was pulling on them all equally.  Even the ship – the tenkionic matter that made up much of her hull and internal solid areas distributed the force in some way, sparing it the stress of tidal forces.

“Activating standard drive to pull us off-kilter . . .  Now we’ll feel a bump.”

Brooks leaned back, letting his chair secure him.

“System ready for switch to automatic,” Cutter said in his clipped voice.  “In case we all pass out.”

“Ah,” Kell said.  “That again.  Your kind seem to do it often.”

Brooks looked up at the ambassador, who was still standing.  “I suppose you’re not going to sit this time, either.  The forces will be different.”

He was starting to feel them already, pulling him towards the side as his body’s momentum wanted to keep moving in a straight line – but the ship began to curve its path.

“G-forces increasing, it’s gonna get worse from here,” Urle said, his voice louder.

“I do not need to sit,” Kell said, amused.  “It would not truly support me, anyway.”

Brooks felt his head now wanting to tilt, and he saw the officers each doing the same.

Urle resisted the longest, his biomechanical muscles eventually straining until even he had to let his head rest against the side of his seat.

The pressure built and he had to breathe harder.

“Five Gs . . .” Urle said.

It was pressing down on them all, enough that their chairs automatically rotated to keep the pull in the optimum direction for humans to resist it.  Despite how nearly every member of the crew had the genetic enhancements and augments that had stacked with hundreds of years of space exploration, despite their technology that was twisting and violating physics to keep the forces from being so great that it crushed them, they felt it.

They were all breathing hard, tensing, fighting the gravity.  One couldn’t just take such pressure.  They’d black out in a heartbeat if not prepared.

He and the others were fighting hard.

“Ten Gs . . .” Urle said.  His voice sounded strained.  “Countering . . . 427 Gs . . .  The ship is showing the strain . . .”

They felt it before they heard it.  The ship itself was groaning.  A deep hum, as she vibrated so intensely that each oscillation couldn’t be told from the last.

“Cenz, you holding up okay?” Brooks asked.  Such things were particularly unpleasant to him.

“I’ll survive,” the being said, his voice much calmer than his vitals suggested.  Perhaps he had set his system not to try and impart his emotional state into his words.

“Divert power from non-essential systems as necessary to spare the important ones,” Brooks ordered.  If the garden pumps had to break, they could fix them later.  “And make sure the infirmary is most protected . . .”

“Done,” Urle bit out.  “Path . . . on-screen . . .”

Brooks was nearly whited out, but he could see the path of the ship.  They were running close to the outer edge of the rift they had nearly-opened.  Too close.

“Are we going to clear it?” he managed to say.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Urle said.

Brooks saw in his alerts that 62% of the crew had blacked out.

More alarms were starting to go off.

“Outer pod broke off!  Nothing important, just some science equipment . . .”

“Turn off the zerodrive,” Brooks ordered.  “Let the aperture fade, so we don’t clip it!”

He couldn’t see now.  All was white, and he was gasping for breath.  Only a few more seconds . . .  Once they could get back into a straight path, stop trying to skirt the massive gravity of the aperture, they would stop feeling it . . .

“It’s off – aperture isn’t dissipating!  Oh shit, did we . . .  It’s shrinking, but I’m not sure . . .  This is going to be close, Captain!”

Something was rattling loudly, then he heard a crash as something broke loose and flew down the hall, banging against the bulkheads.  His ears were ringing.

Then he blacked out.

“We’re past!” he awoke to.  His vision had returned, and Kell was standing in front of him, looking him in the face from only a few inches away.

He smiled slightly.  “It is interesting to watch, no matter how often I see it,” he said.

Brooks said nothing, but looked past him.

“Report!”

“We made it past Captain!” Urle said, turning to look at him.  “Nearly skimmed the aperture, but we made it!  We’re on course for the Hev moving at . . . Fisc, .09c!”

“How long until we reach the Hev?”

“Two minutes – our velocity is dropping . . . our pseudo-momentum is fading,” Cenz said.

It violated physics for a thing to lose energy for no reason, but that was just how zerospace operated.  At least it kept the energy in the universe from actually changing . . .

“And their missiles?”

“They’re trying to correct, but we’re going to miss them,” Urle said.  “Their velocities are too high – I don’t even think they have enough reaction mass left to catch us.”

Jaya turned to look at him.  Her expression was that of a hunter closing in on prey.

“Missile racks ready, PDCs are loaded and hot.”

“Good,” Brooks said.  “Warm up the coilguns.  We’re going to give them everything we’ve got.”

“Captain!” Cenz said sharply.  “They’re launching another volley of missiles.  Not as many as the last, but a sizable amount, still counting!”

Brooks saw it appearing on the vast screen before them – boxes appearing around a horde of missiles, freshly-launched.

“They reloaded a hell of a lot faster than I expected,” Urle bit out, his hands flying over the controls.  Even with his mind directly hooked into the system, his hands worked, adding what little they could to the speed of thought.

“They’re going to be close together – launch and fire counter-missiles, everything we have!  We just have to survive this one round, and then we’ll be in among them!”

If their anti-missile weapons could take out more than one at a time, they just might make it through . . .

“Missiles incoming, less than ten seconds,” Jaya said.  “All PDCs locked and firing, but sir-“

“All crew,” Brooks said, his message resounding through the ship.  “Brace for impacts!”

---

< Ep 6 Part 38 | Ep 6 Part 40 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“ALL HANDS, TO EMERGENCY SHELTERS.  PREPARE FOR HIGH-G MANEUVERS.”

The voice, calm but very insistent, could not be missed; it was in every room, every corridor, every device.

Apollonia’s system was also broadcasting the alert, and she found herself barely aware of her own actions.

She didn’t remember going into the bunker, but she found herself fumbling with the straps on her seat.

She needn’t have bothered; they moved by themselves, slipping from her numb hands and locking about her.

There were a dozen others in the bunker with her, though there were also a lot of empty seats.  She hoped that didn’t mean some people were getting trapped outside.  Or maybe the Craton had a lot more of these than actual crew?  She didn’t know.  Maybe she should know that?

Her heart was beating as the door to the room closed.  A moment later the wall didn’t even look like it had a seam, it was so tightly sealed.

Apple turned, surveying the room again, and found that an older-looking woman was next to her.  She recognized her face as working at one of the restaurants she had gone to a few times.

The woman smiled at her nervously.

Apollonia smiled back, hers feeling weak.

“You’re a Volunteer?” the woman asked.

What was her name?  Apollonia wracked her brain but couldn’t remember.  It might have been Ann.

“Uh, yeah,” she said.  She had put on the jumpsuit, preparing to suit up.  They had said to expect hull breaches.  She started to reach for her tablet again to look at it, but a drone beeped at her.

“No loose objects during high-g maneuvers,” it told her.  It was not the floating kind, but built into the ceiling, almost flush with it.  She reckoned that it was secure enough that they’d all be paste before it busted loose and started flying around.  She wasn’t sure if that thought was consolation or not.

She put her tablet into a drawer that sealed shut, regretting it instantly.  Unlike everyone else, whose system was fully integrated into their bodies and clothes, she was entirely cut off from the augmented reality systems.

“It’s so brave of you,” the woman said, startling Apollonia.

“It is?” she asked, the question just slipping out.

“Oh, yes.  It’s dangerous work – I just wasn’t brave enough,” the woman said.

“BRACE,” the system said.  Apollonia felt the restraint straps tighten, and she tensed in her seat.

She didn’t feel brave.

---

< Ep 6 Part 37 | Ep 6 Part 39 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Brooks strode onto the bridge.  Decinus had been swept away to a medical bay for emergency surgery, but Dr. Zyzus had given him and Logus a brief treatment that had largely fixed their hearing.  Things still sounded odd, but he could have his eardrums repaired properly later.

“Status,” he asked, striding to his seat.

“We’ve got over two hundred missiles still trying to follow your ship,” Urle said.  He had not sat in Brooks’s seat, but stood next to it.

Brooks took the chair, and surveyed the command center.

He knew he still looked a mess; his uniform was damaged, with blood splatters still on it – both his, from some minor cuts, and Decinus’s.

Kell appeared, Brooks feeling his presence before seeing him.

“We’ve launched some counter-missiles to theirs,” Urle told Brooks.  “Should we launch more?”

“Belay that,” Brooks said.  “They’re just going to launch more at the Craton now.”

Cenz turned around.  “Wouldn’t they have done that already, Captain?  They had to have seen that we had picked you up already.  It would make no sense to wait-“

“Launch too soon after their last wave, and their new wave of missiles will risk hitting our defensive measures.  It will also give them time to load more missiles and launch a strike that actually threatens us.  What is our likely intercept rate for the three hundred?”

“Given that they are in three waves, we have a 99.7% chance of intercepting all missiles, with a 0.3% chance of missing one to three-“

The threat board lit up.

“We have multiple launches!” Jaya said, her voice bordering on frenetic.

Which was understandable.  Brooks could see the screen lighting up; one after another, from nearly every Hev ship in Ks’Kull’s armada.

“Counting – 11,274 is the initial number, but we may have missed some,” Cenz said, his voice taking on a tone of alarm that was novel for the being.

“How many can we intercept?” Brooks demanded.

“Predictions suggest a 58.7% interception rate – oh my, that will let through far too many through . . .”

Urle looked at Brooks.  “We take even a fraction that many hits and we’ll be lucky not to break up.”

Brooks was looking at the plotted paths.  The missiles were swinging wide in all directions, to come at the Craton from every side.  It would mean they could bring more defenses to bear in total, but that hardly mattered with this many simultaneous launches.

“Revising numbers – 11,954 missiles.  A lot were visually lost in the blasts of others . . .  revised interception prediction rate at 56.2% . . .” Cenz said, his voice a pale shadow of its normal self.

“They have to have emptied their magazines,” Urle said.  “This is a hell of a commitment.”

“They’ll be reloading, but slowly,” Brooks said.  “As far as they believe, they have us.  How long until the missiles reach us?”

“Twenty-eight minutes, thirty-one seconds,” Cenz replied.  “Plus or minus five seconds.”

“How much power do we have in the jump coils?”

“Our jump in was brief, which saved a miniscule amount of power – we are currently at 38% of charge necessary for opening a zerospace portal,” Cutter said.  Despite the situation, the Beetle-Slug sounded calm.  This was, to him, merely another problem to be solved, Brooks thought.

And that was the truth of it.

“We require at least one hour and thirty-five minutes to make up the rest of the charge,” Cenz said.

“Do you have any thoughts, Captain?” Urle said.

“They may launch another wave of just as many in a few minutes,” Brooks said.  “Ks’Kull would love to take this ship intact, but clearly he wants bloodshed.  And even the Craton’s scrap would be invaluable in trade.”

“To the Fesha,” Urle said, disgusted.  “Do you think they pushed him to attack?”

“Possibly.  Where is their ship now?”

“It has left orbit of the seventh planet and is moving closer,” Cenz told him.

“Come to watch the fight,” Urle commented.  “Are they within strike range?”

“Only by long-range missiles, sir.  It would take even those several months to reach them.”

“They want to see what the Craton can do,” Brooks commented.

Jaya turned around to look at him.  “And with respects, sir, what do you plan to do?”

Brooks was silent a long moment.

“Prepare for a zerospace jump,” he said.

“But sir,” Cenz said.  “We do not have enough energy-“

“To make a successful jump, that’s right.  But we’re not going to make a successful jump.  We’re going to slingshot.”

Silence met his words, and it was Urle who broke them.  “Sir, you mean get the gravitational pull to get a burst of acceleration?  It won’t help us escape the missiles, it will only give us pseudo-momentum that will rapidly decay and we’ll be-“

“We’re not moving away from the missiles,” Brooks said.  “We’ll move towards them.”

He stood, reaching and bringing up a three-dimensional visual of the situation.  “Right now the Hev missiles are spreading out away from their fleet – this is normal, so that we can’t destroy hundreds with a single nuclear blast, and to keep our counterfire from coming straight at their fleet.”

He pointed to the path directly between them and the Hev.  “That means there is a gap here where there will be no missiles.  And the pseudo-momentum we can gain from a failed jump will move us fast enough – I believe – that the missiles will not be able to correct in time.”

He looked to Cutter, then Cenz.  “Do my numbers check out?”

“Yes,” Cutter replied.

“In theory!” Cenz cried.  “But there are still so many other issues!  We cannot go through a partially-opened portal aperture, or the ship will spaghettify-“

“Yes, so we’ll have to sling ourselves just around it.”

“The angular momentum might tear the ship apart!” Urle said, standing up.

“The Craton will hold together,” Brooks replied.

“And if she does, we will then be in the midst of the Hev fleet,” Cenz said.  “Captain, this . . .  I do not understand what we are hoping to achieve with this maneuver.”

“There are still so many other problems with this plan,” Urle added.  “Calculations that we’ll have to do on the fly – we’ve never even simulated this.  There’s a reason it’s not an accepted maneuver in any fleet book!  We might spaghettify, we might all be crushed by the g-forces, we might ram into a hundred missiles at a fraction of c, we might-“

“When outnumbered and trapped, we attack,” Brooks said, interrupting him.  “That is the only way to win against impossible odds.”

Jaya nodded, her face calm but eyes flaring.  “I am with you, Captain,” she said.

Urle took a long and deep breath.  “Just give the word, Captain.”

He nodded slowly, looking across the whole of his crew.  Perhaps some of them thought he was mad, perhaps a screw had been knocked loose in the explosion in the diplomatic station.

Perhaps it had.

But if Ks’Kull wanted blood, then he was going to drown in it.

---

< Ep 6 Part 36 | Ep 6 Part 38 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“All hands to battle-stations.”

Urle gave the order, and the command center exploded into action.  Officers ran about, speaking in rapid voices, and crewmen began to work furiously, sending all the signals to prepare the ship for combat, to inform the crew, to get everything locked down – a million actions, triggered by the one phrase.

It was no longer theoretical, just a possibility.  They were in action now.

Jaya, among them all, seemed the calmest.

She’d been born for combat command, Urle thought.  A part of him even wondered if she should be in command now, instead of him.  To fight, to kill, was not his forte, even if he could – and had – commanded in battle before.

But he would not give up the command seat until his dying breath, or until Brooks returned.  And right now, the latter option was in doubt.

“We have thirty-five, repeat three-five missiles inbound for the shuttle,” an officer informed him.

“Counter-fire missiles.  I don’t want one getting within fifty kilometers of the Captain!” he ordered.

“Counter-missiles launched, sir.”

Urle checked the computer’s calculations on optimal detonation points, approving them.  The computer would be better at such numbers than even he, but he still believed in double-checking.

Their salvo of missiles were visible on-screen now, streaks of light that were soon swallowed by the infinite dark.

Seconds later, he saw more blips appear from the Hev fleet, just as Cenz spoke.

“We have more launches, repeat more Hev launches.  Counting . . . over eighty . . . no, we have a third wave, oh my . . . an additional one-hundred and twenty-one missile launches. Two-hundred and thirty-seven missiles in total between all three waves, sir.”

“They are determined,” Jaya noted sourly.  She turned in her chair to look at Urle.  “Sir, we can counter their missile launches, but they surely have more than us.  And the more they launch, the higher the odds that one makes it through.”

“I’m aware of that,” Urle said.  “Estimated time to them reaching the Captain?”

“Approximately twenty-nine minutes,” Cenz told him.  “Ours have greater velocity, but we are still cutting it close.”

It would take much longer than that for the shuttle to return to the Craton.

They had limited options.  The Craton was charged for a jump, and they could jump in to aid the Captain, but if they did . . .

They’d be stuck.

But Brooks was a Captain, about to be taken captive by the Hev.  At best he would become a bargaining chip, and more than likely he’d end up in the hands of the Fesha – who would probably strip his mind for anything and everything of value.

A notification appeared, startling him.  Almost any notification should have been stifled right now, but this-

This was for a Captain’s eyes only.  It was from the ship’s computer.  The AI had understood the situation, and was now informing him of a special command.

He opened it, read it.

C-Directive 12, it was called.  Something that he, as only Executive Commander, had not been privy to.

His heart was beating.

‘Under Special Order of the SU Supreme Council, all measures are to be taken to prevent the capture of a Shoggoth by hostile forces.’

It bore the electronic signature of the council, and he knew it was true.

Now he had even fewer options.

The computer made a suggestion to him, and he checked, but no one else saw it.

‘Recommend firing upon shuttle to complete C-Directive 12.’

“No,” he said softly, the word just slipping out.

“Captain,” Eboh said.  “We are receiving a tight-beam from the Bright Flower.”

“Open channel,” Urle ordered.

Guona Daa appeared.

“Captain Urle,” she said.  “We have seen the situation, and request permission to jump in to rescue Captain Brooks and his team.  If you can provide covering fire, I believe we can survive long enough to meet back up with you and potentially transfer our crew over.  We’ll lose the Bright Flower, but it will be worth it.”

It was a brave idea, Urle first thought.  But he didn’t even need to run the numbers to know just how unrealistic it was.

“No,” he told her.  “That won’t be necessary.  I want you to jump out immediately, and return to Commodore Siilon.”

“And the Craton?” Daa asked.

“We’ll be going in,” Urle replied.

---

< Ep 6 Part 34 | Ep 6 Part 36 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“Foolish, stinking human!  You dare bring such insult to me?  I will not have your head – not today!  But one day, mark my words-“

Brooks had listened to Ks’Kull’s rejection of his idea with as much serenity as he could muster, prepared to return to his ship – and do what?

He honestly wasn’t sure.  Could he sit back and watch a genocide?  Could he do the slightest thing to prevent it even if he launched his own counter-attack?

Ks’Kull began to spit another vehement word – and then he exploded.

It was too fast for Brooks to even register; he only realized it after it had occurred.

The fact that he could do that meant he was alive, he realized.

Because Kell had stepped in front of him.

The being had moved faster than he’d believed possible, seeming to nearly teleport, and had grabbed Logus, dragging the man along so sharply that his head snapped to the side.

He heard a terrible sound, like ripping, and realized that it was the shrapnel impacting Kell.

It should have torn through him; torn him apart.  Any human would have been.

But it did not come through Kell.  His face, in front of Brooks’s own, did not even change expression.

He felt the shockwave of the blast, it rattled him – but at this distance caused no injury.

His mouth was agape, and he heard Logus groan.  Then he heard the whimper of pain and looked over, seeing Decinus.  The man was alive, moving, but his upper arm was more blood than flesh, with bone jutting out.

“I could not shield you all fully,” Kell said, calmly.  “He may be dying.”

“Logus!” Brooks said, his voice soft in his ears.  The blast had hurt his hearing.

Logus was rubbing his neck, but seemed all right.  He looked up as Brooks spoke.

Emergency alarms were going off, sounding distant.

“The air is escaping,” Kell said.  And Brooks realized he could hear his voice just fine.  Somehow.

“We should leave.  I can bring Decinus if you wish him to continue living.”

Brooks looked at Kell, shocked, as the full realization of what had just happened sunk in.

The stand-in for Ks’Kull had exploded.  He himself had been a living bomb, walked right into their meeting without being detected.  And Ks’Kull had tried to assassinate him.

It meant war.

The show of force that Siilon was making, the threat of the Sapient Union crushing the Maig meant nothing.  Or perhaps Ks’Kull was so insulted he’d lost all of his scant control.  And so it would be, to sate his rage or bloodlust or insanity or logic or whatever the reason – it did not matter now.

It was war.”Get back to the shuttle!” he yelled, his voice barely audible.  “The Craton needs to know that we’re alive!  The Hev are going to attack!”

---

< Ep 6 Part 33 | Ep 6 Part 35 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The Hev-thing was making a noxious sound that it took Kell a moment to realize was laughter.  It was superficially similar to the human sound, but reminded him more of a long-extinct Earth creature when it was dying.  They were unintelligent, though, and this thing was intelligent – in some way that was different from a human.

He wondered what they would taste like.  He had yet to consume a thing not from Earth, and he was growing more and more curious.

Humans had told him not to eat the food of other species, and he assumed that meant entities as well.  Granted, he would not eat any intelligent entity unless the situation arose that allowed it with a minimum of fuss.

Alien foods could poison beings from other ecosystems, though he knew it would not be an issue for him.  It did not matter in what way its most minute elements were mixed, they were the same elements.  That was all that mattered.

His chance to try, though, had yet to come, but he was patient.  Time meant nothing to him, and to have a novel experience . . . that was itself novel to him.  Something to look forward to.

Ks’Kull was saying something, his words apparently harsh, according to the device that he’d been given that translated alien words.  One day he’d simply know their languages.

Perhaps soon, he thought.

Though the one known as Ks’Kull – or stand-in, whatever, he did not care – was different than the others.  A most subtle difference in chemical signatures.  He doubted that even the sensitive equipment of the humans could have told, but he saw it innately.  How could he not, seeing from angles beyond their understanding?

How limited they were.  And as Ks’Kull now gestured sharply, Kell realized that something interesting was about to happen.  He saw the change from within the being first, and he gave the matter his full attention.  Ah, yes, the differences inside it . . . they were chemicals in small vials, distributed throughout its body.  And he saw now that the armor it wore was not true armor, but was built to shatter in a specific way when great force was applied to it.  He’d long ago learned about applying great forces in novel ways.

The chemicals reacted; exploding.  The Hev actor did not even have enough time to register surprise, though Kell felt certain it would have been surprised to know that it was a living bomb, trained to a higher degree and given greater autonomy solely to give Ks’Kull’s enemies reason to believe they were being granted greater prestige – and thus get them to lower their guard.

Its armor was shattering, hurling shrapnel towards Brooks and the others.  They would be ripped apart by it – the explosion itself would not be enough, the shrapnel would take care of the job.

It was time for him to act.

He only regretted that he would not get to consume the Hev; he and his guards were now in too many pieces, too charred and altered chemically to make it worthwhile for learning about them.

There would be other chances.  He just had to be patient.

---

< Ep 6 Part 32 | Ep 6 Part 34 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

After talking to Ambassador N’Keeea on the Craton, Brooks prepared himself to re-enter the negotiating area.

As he stepped back into the meeting room, he saw that N’Keeea’s prediction had been correct.

“He will not send the same body-double again – for of course he has others on his shuttle.  The last one will have been slain – his reactions were poor.  Shamefully so!”

“So this stand-in is a normal protocol?” he’d asked.

“Yes,” N’Keeea had said.  “And if you ask my opinion, you should do the same.”

“I will not use a body-double.”

“Then use a signal to broadcast.”

“If I do that now, it will be a sign of distrust.  I can’t leave now that I’m here.”

N’Keeea had clammed up then, and Brooks understood that the Hev would not understand his motives – that putting himself into risk was a way of showing his sincerity.

Was it lost on Ks’Kull?  Probably, he thought.  The being was mad, drunk with blood.

But he was not walking into the lion’s den without a safety net.  The Hev could fire on the meeting room – but the Craton should be able to launch counter-fire to protect them if that happened.  If the guards should try to attack – well, there were security walls between them that would shut the teams off from each other.  No weapons had been smuggled in, they’d been scanned and checked thousands of times by thousands of scanners.  The only real threat were the shuttles themselves, but even those were submitted for scans by drones from each side – and those drones had all scanned each other.

He felt safe enough.

Now, facing the Overlord’s stand-in, he saw it was indeed a different Hev.  The differences were subtle, and if he’d not used his system to check for them, it would have been hard to tell.

The holographic image of the Fesha Captain appeared again, bowing to both sides – his bow deeper to Ks’Kull, but Brooks ignored the minor slight.

“Before all begin their words,” the Fesha captain said.  “I must bless the Stars for this moment of time – for I am in the presence of great beings, and I shall never forget this day.”

His eyes went over Ks’Kull, but this time they lingered more on Brooks.

He realized that the Fesha were likely taking every image of him they could, utilizing every scanner on him that they controlled.

He, and the Craton.

“Overlord Ks’Kull,” Brooks began, dismissing the Fesha.  Let them watch – it did not matter.  The outside of the Craton was not what made her special.

“I notice your old stand-in is gone,” he said, wishing to make a point of it.

“He died for his failures – schemes, Captain, by enemies to brew hostility and discord,” the new stand-in said immediately, acting off the cuff.  Yet his mannerisms of the Overlord were spot-on.

“I am a more senior voice for the Overlord,” the new Voice continued.  “And you may treat me as you would the Overlord himself.”

Brooks questioned that, but the fact that this was a more experienced and trained stand-in seemed to be a positive step.

“Have you thought more, Overlord, about this predicament we find ourselves in?”

“I find it interesting,” the Overlord’s Voice said.  “That you would call it a predicament.  Where you see a difficulty, I see opportunity.  You have one of the Tul that have escaped – Keeea.”  He dropped the honorific before the Ambassador’s name, and Brooks let his displeasure show at that.

“Give him to me,” Ks’Kull said.  “And it will be a magnanimous gesture on your part, Captain.  Thus far, I feel I have given much – and received little but thinly-veiled insults.”

“I will not grant that,” Brooks replied.  “N’Keeea enjoys diplomatic protections.  Your own people observe these-“

“His government no longer exists,” Ks’Kull replied coolly.  “Therefore he has no such protections.”

Brooks felt his heart hammer.  “Did you attack the T’H’Tul in violation of our agreement, Overlord?”

“No, of course not – such insults again!  I am a being of my word, as I have said.  But dead now – or dead later, it makes no difference.  For all intents and purposes, they are dead already.  Therefore they cannot be a government.”

“Your concepts of causality seem to differ from my own,” Brooks replied dryly.  “But you speak of us making a gesture – there are things in my power to do.  There is trade that could occur between our peoples that could benefit us both.”

“Trade?” Ks’Kull asked sharply.  “What could you offer me?”

“I am sure there is much,” Brooks said.  “For you and for your people.  We have technologies that will help with the chronic food shortages you face, for your people are numerous.  We can help them live longer, healthier lives with medical technologies-“

“Weapons,” Ks’Kull said.  “Are what we desire for trade.  Show us what you have, Captain.  I have scrap ships – perhaps you demonstrate the might of your weapons upon them?  I have always longed to see a cratonic warship . . .”

The naked greed in his eyes gave Brooks a moment of pause.  He felt a worm of nervousness.  That the Craton would be one of the most valuable prize ships in known space was a given.  But to see that naked desire for her in Ks’Kull’s eyes was another matter.  He knew he revealed too much simply in the asking – yet he wanted to see it so much he did so all the same.

“We do not trade in weapons,” he told Ks’Kull.

“Then you have nothing to offer me.”

His eyes flickered, for just a moment, to the holographic image of the Fesha Captain.

And Brooks knew then, with certainty.  The Fesha were trading weapons to the Hev.

“It seems,” Ks’Kull said laconically.  “That we have found the impasse you so desperately desired, Captain.  Could it be that you do not truly wish to save the Tul?  That you sought to fail in your mission?  I would understand it.  They are detestable, are they not?”

Ks’Kull was taunting him, he realized, with shock.  Trying to throw him off with anger.

But his blood was cold.

“If we cannot break an impasse, it only means we are not trying hard enough, Overlord.  You do realize that when one civilization commits genocide like this, they are telling all others that they are not to be trusted, don’t you?  To continue on your present course does not mean immediate war with the Sapient Union – but we will not forget.  You may continue to buy arms from others, but they will have seen what you do with them.  There are no secrets among space-faring civilizations.  Those that live by the sword also die by the sword.  Is that truly what you wish?”

Ks’Kull leaned his head back, but kept his eyes on Brooks.  “I have given my word on this.  I honor my word.  The Tul must be destroyed.  Let all see – for I do not fear.”

“I can see,” Brooks said, throwing out his last card.  “That this is true.  I respect your bravery, Overlord – as well as your honesty.  You do not mince words.

“But to say we are at an impasse is to admit we are not strong enough to find a solution.  I have a proposal in mind that will appease all parties – and leave you with greater honor and stature still.”

Which was not quite true, but he had to sell it.  Indeed, he could read interest on Ks’Kull’s face.  At least as much as he could read a Hev; with as many factions as he’d worked with in his years before joining the Sapient Union, he’d learned well their habits and tics, and they could vary far more than even among humans.

“If you wish for the Tul to be dead, then let it be so.  But allow the remaining Hev upon the world of Poqut’k to leave alive.  They will abandon their name of Tul to its death, and become a new clan – existing within the Sapient Union, where they can never wrong you again.”

His heart was pounding, and he could read nothing on Ks’Kull’s face.  But the Overlord was listening intently.

“At this point, Overlord, what is there left to prove?  You have killed nearly all your enemies here, their works lay destroyed, and they have no hope.  You have much to gain from this plan.  It would sate your honor, you would still be honest – for the Tul would all be dead.  You would show your magnanimity and mercy.  Your people and mine would have made inroads towards friendship.”  The latter words nearly caught in his throat to say, but he had to all the same.

He stood to show that it was his last offer, and extended a hand, a Hev gesture Ks’Kull would understand plainly.  “What do you say, Overlord?  Shall all win?”

Ks’kull continued to watch him for several long moments, and Brooks held his pose.  He could not sit back down until he’d received a response.  He held, a bead of sweat on his forehead, threatening to run into his eye.

Please let it work, he thought.

Ks’Kull laughed again, but this time, it was not in mirth but in malice.

---

< Ep 6 Part 31 | Ep 6 Part 33 >