Afterburn

While Teresa was waiting for Ballie to return with the files she had requested, she thought she might fill in a few more of the gaps in Captain Argate’s xenobiologically challenged education.

“The mogshrike and ’Zangian species have existed a thousand times longer than any known humanoid civilization, but they went in completely opposite directions on the evolutionary scale,” she said. “Unlike the ’Zangians, ’shrikes have no language.”

“We’re pretty positive that they’re dumb as bricks, Captain.” It was better than comparing the ’shrikes’ mentality to Argate’s, although she could see certain parallels that almost begged to be drawn. “Evidently no part of their evolution or environment has ever required them to develop vocal structures or communication skills. Because of their advanced social structure and cerebral development, the ’Zangians were obliged to do the opposite. They easily comprehend abstract concepts like mathematics, art, and philosophy. ’Shrikes do not, nor do they show a response to anything but the availability of prey.” Teresa smiled at Noel. “You might recognize that sort of behavior from your observations of Terran sharks.”

“We think they may have come to a competitive stage in their evolution,” one researcher said, oblivious to the undercurrents. “After all, the only natural predator the ’Zangians have is the ’shrikes.”

“If that were true, then the ’shrikes should wipe them out in short order,” Argate said. “They are the larger and more successful of the two species.”

“Not necessarily.” Teresa curled her hands into fists. “For one thing, ’Zangians fear their enemy, but they don’t run from them. They confront and fight.” Which was precisely how she would handle Noel from this point forward.

Argate was a master of the implication, as he had always been. However, Teresa wasn’t a seventeen-year-old with more hormones than brains anymore, and this world was her oyster, not his.

“’Zangians can tolerate colder temperatures, and sometimes do travel through the outer currents,” she told him. “But wherever you go in the sea, you’ll find few places to hide. Until now we feel the ’Zangians have been trying to coexist by staying out of the ’shrikes’ way, but even they admit that time may be at an end.”

“With the change in feeding and hunting behavior? I’d say you can count on that, Doctor,” Argate said. “If nothing is done to aid the ’Zangians, and a thermal barrier no longer exists, then what happens in the next revolution could very well determine the survival of one species or the other.”

“These were taken by deep-sea drone probes,” she told Argate. “We programmed several to monitor ’shrike activity, and this is what they’ve transmitted over the last four years.”

“This is an average-sized adult male mogshrike, approximately thirty meters long and weighing one hundred and sixty tons. To our knowledge, ’shrikes are the largest aquatics on the planet.” Teresa felt her stomach knot as the monster swam directly in front of the probe, which focused its lens to pick up fine details of the creature’s dark, spiny hide. “Their hides are identical in color to the ocean floor, which they use as camouflage, and are further protected by a thick layer of barbed denticles. The ’shrike also have eight plated fins, barbed on the edges and tips, and multiple rows of very large, sharp, serrated teeth.”

The vid changed angle, and showed a ’shrike from the underside. “The two segmented, dangling objects you see extruding from the perianal area are claspers. They’re filled with a paralyzing toxin, which is released when the clasper comes in contact with anything. ’Shrikes use these appendages to whip through large shoals and stun several hundred fish at the same time.”

“The others are cleaner fish called mvrey. ’Shrikes usually carry hundreds attached to their bellies; the symbiotes use them for transport, and keep their hides clean of debris and parasites. You’ll note that the mvrey stay at least a meter away from the ’shrike’s mouth—this is for purposes of self-preservation. Anything that stimulates the electroreceptors lining the outer mouth rim . . .” Knowing what was on the vid made Teresa pause and then tell the wall panel, “Slow replay to one-third normal speed.”

A doowtasquid, its deep yellow gullet sacs pulsing with neurotoxin, crossed the path of the ’shrike. It saw the shadow of the creature and whirled in slow motion to jet away, but one of its tentacles brushed the ’shrike’s mouth.

Even with the sluggishness of the replay, the ’shrike moved like a flash of light, darting forward, opening its cavernous maw, and swallowing the squid whole.

At the moment of the strike, everyone in the room, including Noel, visibly flinched, as if they had been caught between the ’shrike’s massive jaws.

“That is a conventional electroreceptor response,” Teresa said quietly as everyone watched the ’shrike’s mouth work and clouds of poison stain the water. “Actual time of strike, about one-tenth of a second.”

“Has no effect on the ’shrike. Neither do venom, spines, barbs, or other defenses used by anything else it eats.” She watched the next segment, which showed a ’shrike whipping its claspers through a shoal of tawsnavet trying desperately to burrow into the silt. Hundreds of the fat, flat-headed bottom-feeders were left stunned and floated up toward the surface, where they were scooped up by the ’shrike. “Unhappily, nothing is immune to ’shrike toxin except another ’shrike.”

The last sequence showed two mogshrikes battling. The lashing, humping movements of their bodies did not match the menace of their crushing jaws and the wounds inflicted by their razor-sharp teeth. When the smaller ’shrike’s thrashing body grew limp, the larger charged it head-on and swerved at the last moment, snapping off a third of its head during the pass. The victim’s small brain popped out of its cracked cranium and free-floated until the victor came on a second pass to snap it up.

Teresa shut off the vid and watched two of her newer researchers exit the room rather quickly. “We have developed strong ties with the ’Zangians, and have done our best to integrate them into our society. They are not merely sentients, they are our friends now. Do you understand the difference, Captain, and why when it comes to taking sides, we’re going to choose to help and defend the ’Zangians?”

Argate’s mouth quirked. “Very well. The ’Zangians are already in an evolutionary shift that will eventually force them to live above the surface. That could be hastened along, as you’ve done with your SEAL experiments, could it not? You might save both species that way.”

Even if the Elders approved such a scheme—which they wouldn’t, having already prohibited any future SEAL experiments on their species—Dairatha and the older ’Zangians could not make that kind of transition. Their size made permanent land-transition impossible, and trying to alterform them for better tolerance at such an advanced age would likely kill them.

Teresa shook her head. “Even if we could convince the ’Zangians to leave the water, the SEAL process wouldn’t work for the older natives. We’d split the population, and seriously endanger those who can no longer leave the sea.”

“That would reduce aquatic biodiversity, which would be of no benefit to the ’Zangians or this planet’s marine biosphere.” As much as she wanted to see them dead, Teresa knew she couldn’t execute the mogshrikes. “As part of the food chain, the ’shrikes keep many nuisance species in check. For example, the doowtasquid have no other natural predator, and they’re extremely prolific. Exterminate the ’shrikes and in twenty years you’ll be able to walk across the Western Sea by stepping on squid backs.”

“Parts of them. The sea doesn’t give up many intact bodies to the sand.” Teresa looked over at one of the young male divers. “Ojon here found about one-sixth of a ’shrike carcass a few weeks ago, floating topside.”

“It was mostly shredded tissue, but we were able to salvage some of the endoskeleton,” the diver said. “No bones, but a dense network made of the same cartilaginous material as their fins and spines.”

“Captain, maybe I wasn’t clear about the dimensions of the adult mogshrike,” Teresa said, enjoying the moment. “Let me give you a visual. We’re talking about an animal that is the same size as a standard launch shuttle.”

“So are blue whales, and we’ve successfully captured many of those on Terra.” Noel made it sound as if he’d done so, personally, and only while using a large butterfly net.

“Whales are benign mammals who are friendly toward humans. Terra has plenty of the equipment necessary for deep-sea expeditions and nonharmful captures.” All of which Argate had probably appropriated for himself. “Attempting to capture an alien creature on a planet where none of that exists might be done, with a great deal of difficulty, if the specimen were noncombative. Throw in the ’shrikes’ natural defenses, lack of empathy, and general viciousness and you go from very difficult to impossible.”

“The ’shrike eat anything that comes near them, too,” another staffer explained. “We’ve lost at least fifteen DS probes that strayed too close, and those weren’t even organic. No telling what one or more of them would do to our expedition vessels.”

Noel rested his chin against his hand and made a show of thinking. It was a studied pose—one he had used with great effect since his own student days. “We could use one of the natural bays. Provide some lure, reel it in, and then block off sea access with electrified nets.”

“You’re not serious.” Ballie paled. “Captain, the only thing that lures ’shrike is blood in the water, and that makes the ’Zangians go berserk.”

Teresa had to smother her own appalled reaction. “Captain, we appreciate your . . . enthusiasm, but even if you did capture and secure a specimen in such a fashion, we could never get near enough to it to examine it in any scientific fashion.”

Teresa knew MRD did such things—she herself had experimented on the ’Zangians—but she had to uphold the Elders’ rulings now. She also wouldn’t trust Noel with so much as a wrill hatch-ling. “We are currently prohibited from experimenting on any native life-form.”

“Let me understand you correctly,” the captain said, looking clearly puzzled. “You are willing to kill these creatures if they threaten your installations or your native friends, but you refuse to capture and study them, which would be the only manner in which you can identify the cause of their recently changed behavior. Given your sentiments, Dr. Selmar, you may as well shut down this facility and go back on land. You have no hope of controlling the mogshrike invasion.”

“Isn’t it?” Argate lifted his shoulders. “However you wish to label the situation, Doctor, these mogshrikes present a threat on several levels. Genuine threats can be studied, resolved, or eliminated, but they can’t be ignored or wished away.”

Teresa looked out through the viewer panel at a pair of ’Zangian males swimming by on patrol. She had known both since the day they were born, and they were now typically happy, friendly adolescents, just on the verge of adulthood. This particular pair had been too young to join the SEALs before the ’Zangian Elders put an end to the experiment, but they were just as important to her as any of the pilots she had alterformed.

The patrol seemed casual, but the males took it very seriously. Young as they were, they both carried battle scars from practice bouts skirmishing with older males in preparation. Now, if a ’shrike attacked, they knew how to fight it. If more than one attacked, they would both die fighting.

Liana had been held captive for an unknown length of time. She and the ship’s captain remained blind and bound, and had been segregated to one small corner. Their captor had sealed one end of the tank and stood guard at the other. Nothing else happened, and the waiting without knowing was maddening.

When Nerala’s bleeding increased, Liana dared to swim forward until she tasted the guard’s sweat. The female with me is badly wounded, she said. She requires medical aid.

Liana returned to the corner where they had been penned. She had already checked Nerala by touch, using the end of her snout to locate the source of the blood: a great slash in the captain’s chest. Left untreated, Nerala would soon die. Struggling against the web of cords wrapping her body had proved useless; Liana could not free a single veil to stop the flow.

If only she were brave enough to charge the guard blind. But Liana feared the weapon the male carried, and had no way to see it or the male’s exact location. All she could do was huddle close to the injured Nerala, warming her as best she could with her own body heat, and wait for what would happen next.

Liana might have taken her own life. The manner in which she had been bound had been brutal, and with some flexing she could work the cord tighter around her chest and gillets, essentially strangling herself. She certainly would have surrendered to death willingly. But she had no idea where her mother was, or what was being done to her.

At times there was movement in the tank. The guard muttered some things in his clipped language to another who entered and exited at irregular intervals. Whenever the other male paid a visit, the sound of air bubbles preceded a slight shift of weight in the water.

Liana understood the reason for the movement, sounds, and infrequent visits. The intruders who had taken over the ship were using breathing equipment. That meant they were land-dwellers and not aquatics. This was an advantage, for most land-dwellers were weak, bony creatures who swam like cripples. Their breathing equipment was equally fragile, and had hoses to bite through and regulators to smash.

Liana saw the wisdom of using it and answered in kind. I am bound and my eyes are blindfolded, but I am not hurt anywhere. She forced herself to remain as still as possible, as the cords seemed to be shrinking and cutting deeper into her hide. I asked for aid for you but they would not provide it.

Liana felt her throat tighten. I don’t know. If she began losing control now, she would end up harming herself and finishing off Nerala. How was the ship taken? Did they capture the entire crew?

I do not know how they boarded us, but our people put up a brave fight, my lady. Like all Ylydii, Nerala avoided the direct mention of death. I barricaded myself in the command center and tried to signal for assistance, but our transponder was the first thing they destroyed.

Liana could taste the stink of the male guard as he swam over to them. A device squawked, and then his voice was translated into understandable language. What are you slots humming about?

His translator cannot reveal our sounds as words, Nerala muttered quickly before answering the guard in spoken Ylydii with, We sing to give comfort to each other.

Liana hated being reminded of the locator device the medicals had inserted in her spine. Carada had insisted on it, however, and had forbidden her to make any protest. Surely such a signal could not be heard out here. They were thousands of miles from Ylyd and any hope of rescue, and the implant was designed to work underwater, not in space.

Liana thought of the ’Zangian aquatics, some of whom were said to patrol space around their world in fighter vessels. At the same time, they did not know if all the intruders were land-dwellers. We must do something else.

I am of no use to you now, my lady. I can feel gouts passing through my vents. Nerala listened to the water for a moment. This one is armed but he is alone, and the other will not bring him new air for another quarter hour.

This one cannot cry out or raise an alarm if he cannot breathe from that device strapped to his back. She paused and forced air through her vents. Use my passing to draw him closer. Sever his lines.

I do not want you to die. It was a childish, stupid wish. Liana didn’t care, and then something gathered inside her. Her mother had raised her with dignity; she would expect her to behave like an adult. Forgive me, Captain. I will assure that all of our sisters hear your name, and come to know what you did to protect us. You will never be forgotten.

Liana felt the last gush of clotted, bloody water ease from Nerala’s gill vents, and heard the final beat of her great heart. Uncaring of her shrinking bonds or what the guard might do, she threw back her head and released a pulse of sorrow.

Darkness shrouded the interior of the Ylydii ship, with only emergency exit lights casting a red glow in the water. Everything had been flooded with the dark, slightly briny liquid—taken directly from Ylydii oceans, Burn guessed—but the temperature of it was far too cold to be comfortable.

A wall panel showed that the ship’s main computers remained offline, and only minimal power was being used to keep the hub tanks turning and their liquid atmosphere from freezing. There were no signs of equipment failure or accidental destruction. He wasn’t sure what had happened until he turned a corner and saw two figures floating serenely toward him.

Burn kept his weapon harness on as he swam slowly, watching for movement, listening for any sound. The silence was so complete that his heart seemed to pound in his brow.

Don’t shoot anything. He was reasonably sure any survivors would have been imprisoned where they couldn’t cause any trouble, but the mercenaries might not have captured everyone. Wait. Stay alert.

He caught sight of a humanoid male in a breathing rig, treading water and holding a weapon ready. He was positioned before an open hatch leading from the cargo hold to the access corridors. He was not Ylydii, or even aquatic. His garments were minimal and crisscrossed by straps to which more weapons and blades were attached.

Burn kept out of sight and considered how to make this first contact. If the guard was a crew member working for Ylydii, then it would be criminal to attack him. If he was a mercenary, he would have knowledge Burn needed. His general inclination was to believe that the other male was a mercenary. Surely no crew member serving in a liquid atmosphere could work well while being hampered by such an awkward breathing rig.

A limp black body with multicolored, veil-like fins floating listlessly in the water drifted out of an open hatchway. It was a dead crew member. The guard lifted his weapon and fired at it, knocking it back from where it came.

Burn shot forward and slammed the guard into the nearest solid object. With his fin hook he sliced through the supply lines at the mercenary’s tanks and jerked the rig down so that the straps pinned his upper limbs. The guard’s rifle sank to the bottom of the compartment.

It gave Burn mild pleasure to see the panic on the other man’s countenance as he circled around and pressed his hook to the soft flesh of his throat. He recognized the aquatic translation device the mercenary wore, which would allow him to understand Burn. How many others?

The merc nodded frantically, twisting as he tried to raise his arms, as if to point. Then he slashed out, and the bright glitter of a blade flashed in Burn’s face.

Burn jerked to avoid being stabbed in the eye, taking a glancing blow on the side of his face. He slashed his hook across the other male’s soft neck flesh, opening the thick veins there. You should have told me. He waited until the merc went limp and swam into the starboard access way.

Signaling Shon was vital, but Burn didn’t dare engage his transponder until he knew how many hostiles were present. The proximity scanner in his headgear showed him that the passages ahead were clear, and identified a power source. He swam quickly and silently to the blip, which turned out to be a console in the ship’s communication room.

Someone had blasted through the hatch to get inside, but once there they hadn’t given the equipment much attention. Two of the three consoles had sustained minor damage from rifle blasts, while a third appeared inert and nonoperational.

Burn rebooted the third console. A cracked vid screen flickered on, displaying the status of a destroyed transponder. Tapping a few keys, he used the ship’s intercom system to pick up a weak signal coming from the portside. Being inside allowed him to make out the code, which was a standard body locator beacon.

He used the computer to access a schematic of the ship’s layout. The mercs would be in command and guarding the prisoners, so he found a path to go around them and into the portside through the guest quarters reserved for air breathers. Once he had worked out how he would go in, he plotted an escape route.

There he ran into the first of many problems. Alone he could get to the prisoners, but he’d have to disable all the guards or risk being captured on the way out. Then there was the problem of getting the Ylydii off the ship. The transpod would only hold three at the most. He’d have to get to their launch bay and take one of their space-to-surface shuttles, providing that it had intact liquid atmosphere.

He pulled up a monitor screen that showed the interior of the launch bay, and swore. The pad was empty and the launch lock had been left open after they jettisoned the launches.

Burn knew that, unlike the ’Zangians, the Ylydii could not survive outside their liquid environment for more than a few minutes. He might be able to get to the captives and free them, but no one was leaving the ship. He’d have to regain control of the helm and find a pilot.

He pulled up the ship’s flight, engine, and navigational protocols. The Ylydii had conglomerated the best of several standard League ship designs, but they had used circular and spherical adaptations and configurations that were totally unfamiliar to him.

Burn plugged his transponder into the communication array and used the ship’s power relays to boost and shield the signal he sent to Shon. Major, the ship is under mercenary control. I’m in communications, and ready to go after the survivors on the portside.

We’ve got fifteen merc support ships out here with more on the way. A burst of pulse fire temporarily disrupted the relay. Burn, get those people out of there.

She already knew what she would say before she removed her regulator and mask, but she took her time doing so. “The one who said he didn’t need an alien-lover girlfriend wrecking his career.”

“It isn’t every day you find yourself dumped by your lover and expelled from your master’s program for cheating on a test you studied six months to pass.” She stayed in the water. “That program you planted on my computer was inspired, by the way. Everyone thought I had used it to hack into the university’s database and get those test answers. No BioTech on the planet would even glance at my enrollment application after you railroaded me.”

“You have always pegged me so well.” She removed the long blade from her shoulder harness and let the light gleam along its honed edge before replacing it. “Feel like going for a swim?”

“Maybe later, when there isn’t any steam pouring out of your ear canals.” Noel chuckled and dropped down to sit on the deck step, seemingly indifferent to the fact that seawater instantly soaked his immaculate trousers to the knees. “Your prediction was dead on, you know. I wrecked my career quite adequately on my own.”

“Terran marine biology has become choked with the young and the restless these past few years.” Mild annoyance made faint lines appear across his forehead. “A promising experiment went bad, and someone with slightly more ambition than me took advantage of it.”

“Exposed you before you could clean up the mess and cover your ass, did he?” She let her grin spread wide. “Lord, Noel, as justice goes, that’s almost poetic.”

Finding out he’d married someone else sent a small shock wave through her. “It obviously did nothing to block your dive into the exciting field of intergalactic military science.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I enlisted. I just had to get away from it; get off Terra and start over.” He tugged at the front seam of his shirt. “The uniform takes some getting used to, but the rest of it isn’t much different than teaching at BioTech was. I travel more. My colleagues aren’t Terran, of course, but one gets used to that off-planet.”

“I hate to deflate your self-opinion, Noel, but it was only that one time, when I found all my belongings in the yard in front of our apartment.” Teresa ignored his hand and climbed out of the pool. “Mostly it was for the clothes. The rain and mud had ruined half of them, and I couldn’t afford to replace them.”

“The housekeeping drone wasn’t programmed to do that. I guess it got its wires crossed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “God, you really must hate my guts.”

“Long time ago.” She began peeling off her wet-suit, and hesitated. It had been decades since she had lived on Terra, where public nudity was only one of the many social taboos. “I’m naked under this. If that’s a problem for you and your delicate homeworld sensibilities, best turn your back.”

“I haven’t been a pretty young coed for twenty years, Noel,” she said wryly as she continued to strip. “These days my body fights gravity, and gravity is starting to win.”

“Thank you. I think I can die happy now.” She stowed her suit and rig in her locker and pulled on a dry tunic and trousers. Get this over with, now. She faced him. “What are you doing here, Noel, and what do you want?”

He didn’t seem offended by that. “All right, then, all the cards on the table. I want a mogshrike, Terri. What I can learn from it may help our troops when we move through aquatic territory.”

“That’s all.” He smiled. “You don’t have to be afraid of me anymore. You have the greater advantage here. These are your people, your facility, your research. No one is loyal to me; no one even cares who I am. Half of them only see the uniform anyway.”

“The military hasn’t done much to endear itself to us since they commandeered the data we collected during the SEAL program.” Teresa knew they were using it for intelligence work, too, as evidenced by Shon Valtas’s alterforming into a double of Rushan Amariah.

Noel shrugged. “Look, Terri, I’m going back to the war in a month or two. Why not get a little of your own back this time? Use me and what I can requisition while I’m here. You’ve certainly earned the right, and you need me.”

“Do you really think we can cage one of these monsters?” She shook her head before he could answer. “I must be out of my mind to be seriously considering it.” Seawater ran into one of her eyes, and she knuckled it.

“I can assure you that I’ve personally managed creatures equal in size on Terra. Quadrant’s brought in even bigger, nastier ones on other worlds. It won’t be a problem for MRD. Here.” He pressed a clean towel against her stinging eye. “What we need is your direction, and permission to do it.”

If only it were that simple. “Tranqing a ’shrike might actually be easier than getting permission to do it. The colony has a council that loves to veto things like this. Also, the ’Zangians have a deep and abiding hatred for ’shrikes, and for good reason. We couldn’t bring it anywhere near them; they’d kill it immediately.”

“I’ve scouted a small bay about thirty kim to the north. It’s not inhabited by anything but smaller fish and some reef feeders, and the submerged rock formations are perfect for what we need. I can have a team of engineers on-planet and building the containment barriers within twenty-four hours.”

“I was hoping, that’s all.” He didn’t avoid her gaze. “We’ve tried this on other worlds, without much success. The military is very interested in seeing how species like these can be subdued.”

“We’re at war, Terri.” He gestured toward the URD’s dome. “What you’re dealing with here could be what we encounter if we have to enter marine territory populated by similarly hostile aquatics. What I learn here could be invaluable to preserving the lives of our troops.”

“Then I have to question your choice of specimen.” She tossed the towel into a nearby bin and slipped on her footgear. “You know there isn’t anything like mogshrikes on any water world in this quadrant. I know, I’ve checked.”

There was one species. Like the creature believed for so many centuries to be living in Loch Ness on Terra, the only creature comparable to a mogshrike had never been proven to exist. It was called the ultimate nightmare, feared by even the most fearsome.

“The Faction would be very interested to hear that,” she said, “seeing as they’ve been trying to find the rogur for years. They even published the results of the orbital surveys they conducted, so that competitive species would stop trying to land illegal probes in their oceans. In three centuries of searching, no one has ever found a rogur. No live ones, no bones, not so much as a fossilized rogur tooth has ever been uncovered.”

He actually believed it. “For God’s sake, Noel, the rogur isn’t real. It’s a boogeyman story, invented to scare little Hsktskt into being good killers. That’s all.” A thought occurred to her. “Why all the interest in a fairy tale?”

“The war is progressing slowly but surely into Faction space. We know there is something living on their homeworld, something that makes mogshrike look like guppies.”

He seemed to struggle with an answer before he said, “We’ve heard some rumors. Satellite recon shows the coastal cities on the Faction homeworld have been abandoned. The only things that would make them do that are the rogur.”

“Eventually.” There was no remorse in his eyes, no hint of regret or shame in his voice. Noel had always been able to sleep very well at night, Teresa remembered. Even after he had done some fairly unforgivable things. “As you say, Terri, here is the bottom line: I don’t trust you any more than you trust me. I can’t use you the way I did when we were both young and stupid, and you can’t make my situation any worse than it is. Just consider what will happen if I leave and quadrant sends someone else in. Someone who will take over the URD and do exactly what he wants, whether you like it or not. And if it comes to that, who do you think will get quadrant’s blessing?”

Right now the only thing Teresa was sure of was that he meant what he said. He would find a way to use her adopted planet, or if denied, someone else would come and take what they wanted by force.

She could use him to save the ’Zangians, or she could take her chances with a stranger. “All right. I’ll go and speak to the Elders. Look at me, Noel.”

Teresa placed her hand on the center of his chest and pushed. He went over the edge and into the moon pool with an enormous splash before he resurfaced, sputtering.