Afterburn

“One of the controllers over at Flight said we were going to love this,” Loknoth told Burn as they entered the briefing room. “So I assume the commander is having you incarcerated for the remaining duration of the war.”

“Why let him go when the war ends?” Saree asked. “I say keep him locked up until he is too old and toothless to do more than chase soft-shell sterbol around the silt.”

Burn ignored the acid-tinged teasing and took his place among the other trainee pilots. The pod was still angry with him, but Dair wouldn’t reassign him now. Not with the Peace Summit about to take place. If anything, she would give him a strafer to fly and let him take his place among the patrol. She needed all the pilots she could get up into space.

The more Burn thought about it, the more sense it made. Dair had had enough time to think over his maneuver; she’d have seen the merits of his actions by now. She’d also taken the time to cool off and avoid any more unpleasant interactions— she’d certainly spent enough time avoiding him in the water yesterday. Maybe she’s come to her senses and will let me have Rescue Three.

“We have diplomatic ships from Ylyd and Ninra converging on the planet, as well as a ship of Skartesh launching from K-2. Patrol shifts will provide escort and cover for all of the delegates. Any unauthorized vessels will be reported at once to Flight Control, and ground command will then decide if and how they are to be engaged.” He looked out at the other ’Zangians. “These people who are coming here are not only dignitaries, but important leaders on their worlds. You will remember that in your dealings with them and act according to the appropriate protocols.”

Burn had been too young to meet the last Ylydii delegation, which had traveled to K-2 when he was a pup for a brief cultural exchange with the colonists and the natives. The meeting between the two species had been held in space, and while some of the other young members of the coastal pod had been permitted a short visit to the Ylydii ship, his mother had refused to let him go.

It had frustrated him at the time, to be kept back like a newling. Hearing how strange the alien aquatics had seemed from other podlings had only made him feel worse—he’d really wanted a look at them himself—but Znora had been flatly adamant.

Now he wasn’t. Maybe this time I’ll get to meet one of them. Their females were said to be smaller but very exotic-looking, and very strong-willed.

Burn waited as position assignments were called. Saree was slotted as wing leader, as always, but that didn’t worry him. Neither did it bother him when he wasn’t called to join the body of the patrol. Dair had decided in his favor, obviously, and he would be flying Rescue Three, at the very front of the patrol.

Then the briefing was over, and the pilots filed out to the flight line to board their assigned ships, and Burn was left behind, with no assignment at all.

The other male didn’t mince words this time. “You’re grounded from flight duty and will report for remedial trainer sessions until further notice.”

Burn looked up at the controller’s view panel, and saw his cousin standing and talking to some of the tower crew. “We’ll just see about that.”

Onkar didn’t try to stop him, but he did accompany him as far as the lift to the control level. “Remember that while Dair is my mate, she is still in command of this unit. I cannot thwart her orders.”

“Did you try?” At Onkar’s nod, Burn released a rude burst of air through his gillets. “Fine. If she wishes to punish me, then she can do it to my face, in person.”

Dair didn’t appear surprised to see Burn, but she barely gave him a glance. “Your training session initiates in three minutes, Sublieutenant. You’d better haul tail over to the simulator.”

“No.” He waited until he had her full attention. “You’re drowning me with this training waste, Dair. I’m trained. Use me. Watch me fly.”

Verrig, the chief of flight engineering, stepped up behind Dair. “If you younglings can’t play nicely, I will relieve both of you from duty.”

“On the contrary.” The chief gave her a mild look. “I most certainly can, if I feel you are physically unfit for duty. One of the perks of being in charge of the hardware around here.” He gestured toward a console. “Shall I consult with Subcommander Onkar on the matter?”

“Trainer pilots relieved from duty generally end up scrubbing out engine vents for me,” Verrig advised him. “A month of that might curb your amusement.”

“You won’t regret it, Shon.” Burn gave the oKiaf a slap on the shoulder. “I’m checked out on the StarFire now; have they installed the sphere in your strafer yet?”

“We’re still waiting for authorization,” Verrig put in. “There have been some problems finding pilots who can let the control array take over. They end up resisting it, which sends the array into auto-shutdown.”

“The StarFire array will not be installed in any of the patrol vessels,” Dair stated flatly. “Even if quadrant approves it, it’s too dangerous for anyone to use until we do more testing on our people.”

“Anyone with functional brains,” Dair amended. “In the event you’ve forgotten, our mission now is search and rescue, not search and destroy. Standard weapons systems are more than adequate for any mission needs.”

She looked ready to smack him again. “Be happy I’m willing to allow you to serve as Major Valtas’s gunner, and he’s crazy enough to put up with you.”

“You can’t keep putting me off, you know,” Burn told her. “Eventually you’ll have to put me in the pilot’s seat, and then I’m going to outfly everyone in the pod. Even you, Dair. Is that why you’ve kept me grounded? Because you don’t want me to take your place?”

“Just a minute.” The anger faded from Dair’s eyes and was replaced by that blank frostiness she used when dealing with unpleasant mouth-breathers. “This is not personal between you and me anymore, Sublieutenant. This is the military, and I am your commander. You will follow the orders I give you.”

“Or you will be permanently relieved of duty. Naturally you can apply for review and reassignment. I believe there are some openings in Engineering and Flight Control or, if that might prove to be too much of an intellectual challenge, the Facility Maintenance Crew.”

The insult made Burn’s hide darken, and he turned to Shon. “I’ll run the preflight, Major. Subcommander.” He didn’t trust himself to speak to Dair, so he walked out to the corridor and headed for the Flight Line.

Dair had wrestled with the aftereffects of her transformation for weeks. The integration of human DNA into her own had not only permanently changed the color and structure of her body, but had given it some new, strange, and often disturbing functions. Like the heated, crawling sensation she felt over her hide whenever she was thwarted. At the moment her face felt as hot as if she were back on Ninra, baking under the merciless sunslight there.

There were the new emotions, too. Such as the one she was feeling now, which made her want to chase after her cousin and beat him senseless. Didn’t he understand that she was only trying to keep him from killing himself in some male-hormone-laden idiocy?

“Perhaps his body has, but his mind and his mouth are growing more infantile by the day.” A wave of nausea made Dair grope for a handhold, and then Shon was there, his arm supporting her. “Sorry. Teresa tells me this gastric distress is common for breeding Terran females. Just my luck, I get to experience it as well.” She began the full, slow breathing exercises Teresa had taught her.

Dair debated whether to talk about it or not—pod business was a private thing—but it might help to get Shon’s perspective. “Burn’s dam, Znora, cornered me when he began his pilot training.”

“More like she’s hated me ever since I was born,” Dair corrected him wryly. “I thought she would attack me physically when she discovered that Burn had signed up to follow me into the military. Over time I think she realized that I would protect Burn while he served as my gunner. Now she’s terrified that he’s going to get himself blasted into space dust, and I won’t be there to save him.”

Dair pressed her hand over the curve in her abdomen. “I know a lot more about the maternal instinct now, Shon. At least, I know how I’d feel if it were my pup sliding into a flight harness.”

“Jadaira, you have put enough pressure on yourself, flying watchout for this Peace Summit and keeping Bio Rescue operational,” Shon told her. “You can’t also keep Burn grounded forever. He’s performed beyond expectations in the simulators.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes against the uncomfortable stinging sensation coming from the new holes in her eye rims that Teresa had said were new tear ducts. “I know I should let him go. But, Shon, if anything happens to him, and I’m not there to prevent it, I’ll also know that I’ll never forgive myself. Is that some sort of bizarre human emotion?”

She uttered the burping sound that Teresa had assured her was human laughter. “Then I guess I do really love that ’shrike-sized idiot.” Her stomach rolled, and she breathed in deeply until the sensation eased. “Considering how pleasant this pregnancy-associated nausea feels, I rather wonder why her species isn’t extinct by now.”

“Perversity. Terrans aren’t happy unless they regularly purge their gullets.” Shon helped her over to one of the flight control terminals and eased her into the seat. “Jadaira, this is likely not the best time to talk about what happened to you after you were pushed through the suns’ corona, but I feel responsible. If I hadn’t—”

“Don’t.” She rested her hand against his mouth to stop his words. “You must stop blaming yourself for my injuries. I decided to chase the Skartesh and keep them from flying their ships into the suns. You were unconscious on one of those ships at the time, remember? How could you have prevented any of it?”

“That was what I was thinking, after, when Onkar brought you to the dying place.” He seemed to be struggling for words. “Jadaira, I am responsible for more than you know.”

“Let’s not nip each other over the details. We saved the Skartesh—that was the important thing. My stepmother tells me these changes may contribute to the evolution of my species.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I’m going to tell the other females about morning sickness, though. They may decide to stop having pups altogether, and that will be the end of our species.”

“This transformation wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t interfered in your life,” Shon said. “I couldn’t let things take their normal course.”

“Of course you couldn’t.” Duo knew the only reason the Hsktskt weren’t occupying K-2 and all the other worlds in their system was thanks to Shon’s impersonation of the Skartesh’s dead Messiah.

Dair watched the two males face each other and held her breath. In the recent past, Onkar’s jealousy over her friendship with Shon had been obsessive; he had nearly killed Shon twice out of possessive rage. She only released her breath when her mate extended his arm and clasped one end of his fin to Shon’s paw in friendship.

“Your mate should be on medical leave,” Shon said, ignoring her subsequent hiss of outrage. “I worry that the stress of safeguarding this Peace Summit will cause harm to her and your child.”

“I have been doing my best to convince her of that, but my mate feels otherwise,” Onkar said. “Unfortunately, she still outranks me as well.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Dair demanded. “Shon, report to the Flight Line before my cousin hijacks a strafer. Keep him strapped to the weapons array until after this Peace Summit is over.”

Teresa had made no headway in finding out Noel Argate’s real reasons for coming to K-2. As Noel was about as sentimental and affectionate as a tapeworm, she suspected it had nothing to with her personally. Yet everyone she spoke to, from Colonial Admin to Argate’s commander, insisted the captain had told her the truth. The truth from a man who had built his entire academic standing on Terra by climbing the bony pile of the many careers he had methodically ruined.

She pushed aside thoughts of the captain and surveyed her staff as they gathered for the meeting she had called. Like her, the URD residential staff had been working around the clock to clean up and repair what was needed to reopen the facility. Instead of the excitement and anticipation that had been present on the day the ’shrikes attacked, there was now an air of weary pride among the workers.

There were also more than a few troubled looks directed toward their view of the waters outside, which was why Teresa had decided to bring them together.

“Good morning. As you know, repairs to the URD are now officially complete, as of yesterday. As of today, I am raising hell with the council to acquire some additional reinforcement for the view panels. I expect to get them by the time the URD is decommissioned and declared obsolete.” Teresa acknowledged the tired chuckles with one of her own. “The bureaucrats and data pushers don’t know how dedicated we are, but they’ll catch on. In the meantime, I thank all of you for a job well done.”

A few people applauded, and there were various other sounds of approval and gratitude from those who didn’t know the Terran custom of slapping two appendages together.

“Elders of the coastal pod are taking their own measures to safeguard their people and us by sending out pairs of males to patrol their borders.” Teresa displayed a photoscan on the wall vid of two big males swimming in the defensive, parallel position. “Those of you who are going out diving for botanical samples, keep these patrols in sight at all times. If there is any sign of trouble, return to the URD at once.”

Teresa prepared to introduce the next topic when she saw Noel slip into the back of the room. He nodded toward her before moving to an empty seat.

We’re best friends now, are we? The side of her mouth curled. “You may have noticed that we have a visitor from Quadrant Marine Division. His name is Captain Noel Argate, and he’s a marine biologist specializing in Terran aquatics. He may even be able to help us with our ’shrike problem.”

“Not the last time I was there, but maybe things have changed. Captain Argate?” Teresa gestured for him come to the front, and happily yielded her place at the platform to him.

Argate scanned the faces around the room before he spoke. “I’m not quite up to speed yet, but I have looked over some of the data on the recent changes in mogshrike behavior. Dr. Selmar indicated that the native sentients have stepped up their safeguards, so my first question would be, what are you doing to protect this facility?”

“We’ve set up a security sensor grid along the seamount ridge, and are monitoring whatever comes in from the outer currents,” Teresa told him. “The problem with monitoring is that the mogshrikes move too fast to give us enough time to evacuate. We can’t avoid an attack; we can only respond to one.”

Argate nodded. “Has any effort been made to identify why the ’shrikes are moving into the warmer waters? It was my understanding that the temperatures here are too high for them to tolerate.”

For someone who just arrived on planet yesterday, he’s amazingly up-to-date on things. Out loud, Teresa said, “That was true, up until the day we opened for business. The current theories are in two camps. The mogshrikes may be in the process of changing the way they hunt. They’ve always lived as rogues, so we’re not sure why they would now choose to organize into pack hunters. There has also been a marked increase in the number of smaller ’shrikes being detected by our deep-sea probes, which could indicate an overpopulation problem. There is no explanation for the recent birth rate explosion, either, except for the fact that ’shrikes have no natural predators except for themselves.”

“It would help if we could locate the ’shrikes’ breeding grounds,” one staffer put in. “We could monitor the activity there; get some sort of idea of what they’re doing differently.”

“The reason we’ve never discovered a ’shrike breeding ground is because I don’t believe they exist,” Teresa said. “These are free-roaming animals that cover enormous territories in pursuit of migratory shoals.”

You’d know. “That would keep the ’shrikes from having to break with their traditional, solitary behavior to rendezvous at a particular spot,” she agreed, “but it doesn’t explain the increase in population. Let me access the archived readings.” Teresa went over and displayed a spreadsheet on the wall vid. “According to these probe recordings, ’shrike births have more than doubled this cycle alone.”

“They must be communicating with each other,” Argate said, and then frowned as laughter erupted around him. “I’m sorry, but that’s the only explanation. How else would they find each other over such great distances?”

Teresa took another moment to savor the gaffe before she clued him in. “The ’shrikes have no vocal cords, no language, and no reason to develop either. The most primitive language among the aquatics, modal action patterns, or what the ’Zangians call ‘fin,’ is nonverbal body language understood by many species. We’ve never observed the ’shrikes using or responding to fin.”

“Seeing as they occupy waters not inhabited by the ’Zangians, they may not speak the local dialect,” Argate said. “Have you considered that?”

Teresa considered asking the captain to go and jump in the moon pool without a breathing rig, but then decided it was a good idea to inform him—and remind everyone else—precisely with what they were dealing.

“Mogshrikes are a cold-blooded species at the peak of their evolution,” she stated flatly. “They’ve existed on K-2 for at least forty million years. They feed on anything that moves: wrill, teleosts, cope-pods, baelaeneans and, if hungry enough, each other. These creatures are incredibly ancient, and have had ample time to evolve into the perfect killing machines. Which is what they are.”

“So have the ’Zangians, and according to the data I’ve studied—mostly written by you, Doctor—their brains are as complex and developed as any advanced humanoid’s,” Argate said, his tone implying her conclusions might be at least questionable. “So why automatically classify the ’shrikes, who have existed at least as long as the ’Zangians, as mindless monsters?”

Burn shifted in his harness, chafing at the uncomfortable and wholly new sensation of breathing air while seated inside a strafer. “Major, why didn’t you remind me that you’re a mouth-breather before I agreed to be your gunner?”

“Probably because I breathe through my nose.” Shon used maneuvering thrusters to clear the launch pad before turning the strafer nose-up to engage the primary engines. “You’ve flown before without liquid atmosphere, in Rescue One with Jadaira.”

The green skies around them quickly turned a star-pocked black as the IceBlade escaped the stratosphere and K-2’s gravitational fields. Once in orbit, Shon righted the strafer and flew to where the remainder of the planetary patrol had assembled.

“About time you got here, Major,” Saree transmitted. “Take position at the left rear, behind Loknoth in the CoveSong. We’ll be flying standard patrol formation around the planet. Stay toothy; these delegate ships are slotted to arrive on our watch.”

“Our orders are to escort only.” Shon moved the strafer behind Loknoth’s CoveSong. “Keep the portside sensors on continuous sweep and let me know if you pick up any energy signatures.”

“Merc ships use asteroids and natural satellites as cover. If anything comes out of there, it won’t be to provide a welcome.” Shon adjusted their course to match Loknoth’s and remain in the double-bow formation. “What are we carrying?”

Burn checked his panels. “Pulse cannons, fully charged, smartorps tubed and ready, a clutch of signal jammers, drill probes, and cell shunts. Plenty of extra shielding.” He thought of the StarFire prototype and felt even more annoyed. “Want me to dust things while I’m sitting back here?”

Burn felt a little better as the patrol completed its first orbit of the planet. Serving as Shon’s gunner wasn’t as important as having a command and flying his own ship, but he could observe and ask questions, maybe pick up a few tricks.

“oKia. I used to joc freighters before I enlisted.” Shon followed Loknoth’s lead and bypassed a cluster of asteroids. “First time they put me in the seat of a fighter, I nearly crashed into a Transport hangar. Big difference in control response.”

“Dair’s been making me fly everything in the trainer, from mini-launches to ore haulers.” Burn checked a signal light on the companel but found it too weak to register more than static. Probably an echo from the planet. “I don’t know how those spider miners can stand piloting those monsters. Takes forever to get them off the pad.”

“Aksellans are far more patient than most species. Stand by, I’m getting some wave clutter.” Shon fell silent for a moment. “Are you reading that? It’s patterned.”

“I thought it was an echo. Can’t pull more than fuzz off the transponder, but I’ll see if I can trace the source.” Burn narrowed the companel’s range finder and watched the numbers scroll onto his screen. “Point of origin is close by, maybe within a thousand kim. Whoever’s transmitting must not have any power behind it; it’s still barely registering on my com.”

“Patrol leader, this is IceBlade,” Shon transmitted to Saree. “We’ve detected a repeating signal, low wave, unable to read. Could be a distress call.”

“It’s not a voice trans,” Burn said as he studied the data scroll. “It’s binary, position code maybe. No ID, but the frequency is Ylydii.”

“The only ship with a flight plan filed for this sector is the Ylydii ambassador’s ship,” Saree replied. “We’d better call this one in to Flight.”

“Stand by, Wing Leader.” Shon shut down the intership relay. “Burn, if I turn the ship into the wave, can you amplify it through the hull?”

It wasn’t standard op to use the strafer’s shock-absorbing alloy skin in that manner, but Burn tapped some keys and redirected the transponder. “Acknowledged. Receiving more of it, Major.” He watched the numbers again. “That’s definitely position and bearing. Ship is not flying to K-2, though—it’s headed out of the system.”

“No. They contract offworlders to do their transport. Ylydii ships aren’t built for intersystem travel.” Burn widened his sensor sweep, encompassing the position of the transmitting vessel. “They’ve got another ship with them. Appears that they’re docked.”

“Wing Leader, recommend we do a flyby and see what’s going on out there,” Shon transmitted to Saree. “Something is not right with that vessel or its heading.”

“Attempting to signal the Ylydii ship,” Saree responded. After a short period of silence, a sharp sound came over the open channel. “Their transponder array is down or they’re not responding; my relay is just bouncing back. Patrol, initiate flight pattern star-delta. Major, if you would, take point.”

Shon eased out of formation and moved to the front of the other strafers as they realigned into the scout pattern. “Wing Leader, recommend we power down weapons until we have a visual or contact.”

Burn felt a new wave of frustration as he made the changes to his firing control panel. “Major, if something’s wrong, shouldn’t we fly in prepared to engage?”

“We can’t approach a com-disabled diplomatic ship with our power cells flaring, Sublieutenant. The Ylydii crew would read the spikes and interpret our advance as a coordinated attack. So would any mercs that have taken over control of the ship.”

The flight to rendezvous with the Ylydii ship took only a few minutes, and Burn’s attention strayed from his sensor panels only when the enormous vessel appeared outside the starboard view panels. “Suns, that’s big.”

As all life-forms did, the Ylydii brought their native environment into space with them. Unlike the compact strafers, their vessel had obviously been designed for maximum space and comfort for the aquatic crew and passengers. A central control module served as the hub for two orbiting wheels of gigantic, transparent immersion tanks. Each tank stretched out the length of ten strafers and boasted enough liquid to comfortably accommodate a dozen or more occupants, while interconnecting conduits provided easy access to other tanks and areas of the ship.

“Looks like no one’s home.” Burn scanned the emitter stations, which were positioned to illuminate the tank environments but remained dark and cold. “Power relays are functioning at minimum levels.” In fact, the entire ship looked dead, and that made Burn’s neck itch. “Major, permission to engage weapons array.”

“Not yet.” Shon made a pass under the ship, where a small cargo carrier vessel sat docked to the command hub. “They may have suffered some collision damage.”

“With no debris field? I don’t think so.” Burn scanned the carrier and the resulting spikes on his panel made his heart pound. “Major, that docked hauler is outfitted to the teeth, weapon cells powered, ready to fire.”

Burn switched over to the companel. “Inside the ambassador’s ship. Correction, there are two signals. One is too faint to read. The other originates from the docked carrier.”

Onkar’s harsh voice came over Burn’s headgear. “We have you on monitor and have contacted Ylyd. The second signal is a distress call. They’re asking the Ylydii fleet to rendezvous with them to repel an attack.”

“No one’s attacking them.” Burn rechecked his readings. “It’s a decoy, Subcommander. The mercs probably have other ships concealed or waiting just out of sensor range.”

“You can’t attack the ambassador’s ship,” Onkar told them. “If the signal is, by a far stretch, legitimate, then it will cause an interplanetary incident and disrupt the peace talks before they begin.”

Burn thought the peace talks might have a better chance if there were people still alive to attend them. “Major, we have to board the ship. I can take the transpod over and relay what’s actually happening in there.”

“We’ll need a diversion,” Shon said. “I show a clutter region within fifty kim; that’s where I’d stash the ambush ships. If we fly over and begin shooting our way through it, it should draw them out, and create enough interference to let the transpod slip in undetected.”

“Very well. Major, I’m launching Rescue Three to handle casualties. Byorn, protect the ambassador and her people, no matter what the cost.”

“Patrol, initiate evasive maneuvers,” Shon transmitted to the rest of the pod just before the carrier detached from the Ylydii ship. The smaller vessel darted out and fired a wide spread of pulse energy at the IceBlade. “Gunner, engage weapons array and return fire.”

Burn already had his panels up and his systems ready by the time Shon gave the order. “Firing wing cannons, launching torps.” He sequenced his vollies to Shon’s rolling flight pattern as the major evaded the worst of the attack spread. Shudders vibrated through the strafer as the pulses he couldn’t dodge glanced off the hull.

To keep from firing on their own ships, Burn monitored the winding flight paths of the other strafers. New power signatures peppered his sensor panel. “Reading six new contacts,” he told Shon and gave him the bearings. “They’re coming out of the clutter.”

A midflight dock was one of the most complicated and dangerous of pilot maneuvers. Burn engaged the panels that separated him from Shon before opening the strafer’s rear flood valves and filling his own pod with liquid synthetically treated to closely match the composition of ’Zangian seawater. Once he was breathing liquid again, he transferred weaponry control to Shon and enabled the severance system.

Burn powered up the small positioning thrusters that would give him approximately twenty seconds to dock with the larger ship. “Ready, Major.”

The transpod ejected out of the body of the strafer and flew directly up. Burn guided the direction of the positioning thrusters, matching his hatch collar with that of the Ylydii ship. Despite his care, he went in hard and hot, and the two portals met with a violent jolt before unification clamps on both sides engaged.

“Transpod in dock.” Burn wasted no time as he ripped off his harness and darted up to manually seal the hatch atmosphere collars and scan what was on the other side of the Ylydii’s atmosphere lock. The display showed positive pressure on the interior liquid atmosphere. “Portal entryway filled and clear. I’m in.”

That meant the patrol was going to attempt to dock other strafers’ transpods with the Ylydii. It would help to have some backup, but for the immediate present, Burn had to go in alone.

He strapped on his abdominal weapon harness and secured it before opening both hatches and swimming up into the Ylydii ship. Never had he been more conscious of his size than when his pectoral muscles brushed the portal’s wide collar rim.