raised his gaze to Miyata. “Cross that plain and make contact with these… beings. You look like them, so perhaps they will not kill you on sight as they have done our previous… emissaries.”
“What language do they speak? I understand your spoken language and I know a little English, but that’s all. What if I can’t communicate? They may not even be… true people.”
“If you cannot speak to them, you will be killed,” Esshk replied reasonably. “But make ‘the Offer’ if you can, and secure their assistance. Do that and you will be handsomely rewarded!”
“And… what do I tell them if they refuse?” Miyata asked.
“They will be exterminated,” Esshk answered simply. “We are preoccupied, true, but not so preoccupied that we cannot swarm them under even as things now stand. This is their one chance.”
“When do we leave… ah, First General?”
“Preparations are already underway. All should be in readiness within days at most. You know better what your species requires for survival in frigid lands, so prepare accordin. Requisition what you need under my authority.”
Miyata looked at Kurokawa, now ignoring him. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Consider yourselves dismissed, to begin preparations.” The three men bowed and were escorted away. Esshk glanced back at Kurokawa and gestured at the cell. “Have you observed the results you hoped to see?” he asked grudgingly, doing his best to conceal his revulsion. The “Traitor’s Death” was rarely used, and even this… approximation, particularly when undeserved, awakened a primal horror. Tsalka couldn’t bring himself to look inside the cell, and even the Chooser appeared uncomfortable. Only the “Jaaph” seemed unmoved. Esshk had long considered Kurokawa a barbarian, and at times an annoying pest, but he was valuable enough to overlook those things. This exhibition of utter, wanton, ruthlessness-even toward lesser beings-displayed a dispassionate side of the “man” Esshk hadn’t seen. Oddly, Kurokawa was demonstrating the exact sort of disassociation most prized by the Hij: the ability to completely separate one’s self from the consequences of one’s acts or orders, to remain beyond the call of earthly urges even in the heat of battle. Esshk often struggled with that, in particular. The capacity for that was viewed as a Hij ideal, but Esshk had never seen anyone fully capable of achieving it-until now. Or was it only that Kurokawa viewed the poor creature in the cell as nothing more significant than an insect, and he didn’t fully appreciate the trauma the female was enduring?
“Yes. The defensive hatchlings, the ones the Chooser once culled and you… ate as snacks, that we now groom for defensive combat, appear susceptible to nurturing contact, even at this early stage. They become… protective of the female that treats them gently, and defend it most vigorously from their ‘normal’ nest-mates that threaten her.” He shrugged. “If we can inculcate this sense of loyalty to a ‘mother figure’ at this stage of their development, imagine the fanatical loyalty they will carry later, for the greatest ‘Mother’ of all.” Kurokawa paused. “Loyalty is the most elusive quality a commander can desire of his followers,” he said broodingly.
Outside, in the clear air, Miyata coughed to expel the stench of the Grik “dungeon.” He looked at his companions. Both were young and from divisions not considered “essential” to current projects.
“Well,” he said at last, “what did you two do to deserve this?”
“You… think this mission is a punishment, sir?” one asked nervously.
Miyata considered. In his mind’s eye he saw the macabre East Africa “shipyard” he’d been recalled from; the seething mass of workers, the hot, swirling dust and perpetual stench of death and rot and feces, carried by the fitful, fickle wind. To him, even while the Grik constructed their new fleet, the scene more closely resembled a sea of maggots working among skeletal corpses. The stench did much to reinforce that impression. He blinked and found himself back with his companions on the steps of the “administrative” portion of the Celestial Palace. Below the slope it dominated, down in the harbor, scores of Grik “Indiamen” rode at anchor and multitudes of Grik trotted about like furry, reptilian ants, on errands or bearing burdens. He scowled. The smell out here wasn’t much better than in the dungeon below-or in the shipyards.
“It’s a suicide mission,” he stated at last, “but not a punishment. Anything that gets me away from here is a reward.”
Colombo, Grik Ceylon
“Your scheme seems to have been successful, General Halik,” “General” Orochi Niwa said, entering the gloomy chamber through an ivy-lined entrance. The chamber was the throne room of the Imperial Regent Consort of Ceylon and all India, but with Tsalka away at court, Viceroy N’galsh had grudgingly turned it over to the “visiting generals” to plan the defense and hopefully, salvation of his lands. Normally, sunlight flooded the chamber and reflected down upon the throne at its center, but the sky was overcast and lamps were needed to view the maps on the table that had been brought into the room. Halik and N’galsh looked up from the maps as the Japanese officer joined them, awaiting the rest of his report. “The ship sent to observe has returned, and though it never drew close enough to sight the enemy, its Hij captain saw a massive explosion at sea. According to your plan, those newly elevated aboard the ‘bait’ ships were not to destroy themselves unless they were confident of destroying at least one enemy ship. If we act quickly, the cargo vessels stuck here might escape at last.”
“I will see to it,” N’galsh said, tinkling a small chime. An official entered the chamber. “Send word for the vessels in the harbor to make sail at once. At least one enemy is almost certainly destroyed, perhaps more. Others may be damaged, or occupied with salvage and rescue.” He snorted irony at that. “Most should make it past them.”
“Of course, Vice Regent, it shall be done,” the official replied.
General Halik observed the exchange with pleasure. He was glad Niwa had finally established dominance over N’galsh. Not only had he grown to… enjoy Niwa’s company, but if anything happened to Halik, Niwa must be obeyed. N’galsh had been reluctant to take direction from either of them at first, even Halik, since as a former Uul “entertainment warrior,” he’d been “elevated” from the ranks and not the nest. Hatched a mere warrior, he ultimately gained notice in the staged combats the Giver of Life so enjoyed by continuing to prevail despite his advanced years. He’d been twenty seasons old; ancient for an Uul, when he was “chosen.” Even before that, he’d begun to notice things, to “think,” and in this war, the Celestial Mother had determined they needed more like him. So here he was on Ceylon, sent to “defend” it as best he could with the assistance of the former Special Naval Landing Force officer, Orochi Niwa. He was also to observe and recruit as many “like himself” as he could find before the place was likely lost. Evidently, he’d lost a double handful of those recruits that day, but the result should be worth the cost. He summoned the official back before he could depart.
“I want watchers to observe the beaches here,” he said, drawing a claw along the southwest coast of the island. “Have First of Ten Hundreds Agrawer choose them with care. They must not attack if they sight any enemies, but bring the news back here.” He looked at Niwa. “With the weather growing foul, a damaged enemy vessel may wash ashore. If so, and if any survive, we may learn their intentions-if local Uul do not savage them.” Halik hissed a sigh. “They will not have learned, nor would they appreciate this concept of ‘taking prisoners’ you’ve mentioned. They will just kill them and eat them. It strikes me that this might be an excellent opportunity to attempt the procedure.”
“Very good,” Niwa said. “Perhaps I should go myself? If you’re right, someone should be near with a grasp of the priorities.”
Halik shook his head. “I am likely wrong and need you here to discuss the potential of these new ‘recruits.’ But I learned long amer Specio never ignore a potential advantage offered by an opponent: a weak sword arm, a tendency to lower his shield on the attack. These things can be exploited later, but only if you notice them. A few ‘prisoners’ might help with that. They can always be eaten later.”
Niwa said nothing, but Halik caught the… different… expression. He gurgled understanding. “I know it is not your way to feed on the bodies of your enemies. To you they are not ‘prey’ in the manner they are to us. You fight them, subjugate them, but do not eat them. To me, that is as incomprehensible as what we do is to you. I foresee no meeting of minds on this issue. Even were I inclined to bow to your sensibilities regarding those we defeat, particularly those of your species, I could not.”
Niwa seemed to shrug it off. “It’s not the way of my people to surrender in the first place. If any of the enemy do, I wouldn’t see them eaten, but they deserve no respect.”
Halik looked at him a long moment. “Even so, my friend, if the time comes, I might save some few as ‘pets’ or ‘advisors,’ but that is the most I could do. In that event, choose carefully.”
“My choice was made by General of the Sea Hisashi Kurokawa,” Niwa said simply. “On this world, he stands in my emperor’s stead and I obey his orders. It is fortunate for me that those orders paired me with you.” He glanced at N’galsh. “Even with our perfect understanding, I feel compelled to go. I’d hate to learn survivors were
