“Then what is it about?” Kivits demanded.
“Honestly? Because as you made clear in that conversation, Dulac, I’m to serve the interests of the Chusexx’s harmony, not lead it. Not make decisions for it. Which is why I need advisors. So I’m asking you, both of you. What in the Abyss do we do now that we know? Because I’m at a split in the path, and know not which way to walk.”
Unsurprisingly, Thuk’s plea was met with a considerable period of awkward silence. It was all well and good to pretend that a harmony’s derstu was merely a runner implementing the consensus, but it fell apart in practice. The derstu was there to blame when things went poorly because no one actually wanted to make the difficult decisions in the first place. This was the problem with arranging a society where everyone supposedly led. If everyone was a leader, no one was.
The embarrassed lovers exchanged anxious looks, until Kivits sunk on his four legs and Hurg touched Thuk on a midarm joint.
“We’re at the same split you are, Derstu. What do you think we should do?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Thuk said. “I think we should charge the treaty line, right here, right now.”
Kivits’s legs stiffened and he regained his full height. “You want to obey the Chorus’s song?”
“Of course. You think me discordant?”
“I just…” His mandibles clicked and reset. “I assumed you were trying to recruit us into supporting something more … incongruous.”
“We’re not across that line yet, Kivits. We are not so desperate that survival requires we refuse our Chorus song. I will obey, but I will do so on my terms, with full tanks and surprise in my sack, not desperation. But I wanted to make certain that you two, at the very least, knew exactly the conditions of ground we fight upon.”
“I’m not sure whether to thank you for that or not,” Kivits said without concealing his snark.
Thuk clapped a hand on the dulac’s shoulder. “What? We’re going into action, chasing fame and glory; it’s what we all dreamed of since the clutch. Get over to your alcove and find me one of the human’s husks to jump near. They need to see us charging for the line.”
“Excuse me, but…”
“Oh just speak freely already, Hurg.”
“Sorry,” she said demurely. “I just wanted to ask why you think the humans will cross the line to meet our charge this time when they didn’t take the bait before?”
“Because—” Thuk held up two fingers. “They will think we’re acting out of rage and desperation instead of cool calculation.” He ticked off a finger. “And second, because they’ve gotten a taste of blood now. We embarrassed them twice and they’ll feel emboldened to stack success on success. A careful study of their engagements in the last war reveals the human’s tendency to overreach when things are going well.”
“As you say, Derstu. Should we recall the other attendants?”
“No, let them finish their gims and pelas. Warriors fight better on a full stomach, don’t you think?”
Thuk looked at the three of them standing there alone in the mind cavern. A worker, an administrator, and a royal involved in their own little conspiracy of thought crimes. Except the royal was the only one working, the administrator was below even a worker’s status, and the worker believed himself in charge of both.
If only the queens could have seen this absurd spectacle, they might have elected to embalm themselves.
FIFTEEN
“Contact!” Mattu shouted. “Platform Six. Solid lock on Bandit One. It’s burning hard for the treaty line. Bearing three-one-five-point-zero-two-seven by zero-zero-two-point-five-five.”
“That took longer than expected,” Susan said.
“Maybe they were all in the head,” Warner joked.
Susan ignored her. “On the main plot if you please, Scopes.”
Mattu shunted the data from her Drone Integration Station over to the hologram at the heart of the CIC. An angry burning ember of an enemy contact glowed on the far side of the system just outside the treaty line on almost an exactly opposite bearing from where they’d destroyed the oiler not even two hours earlier. That surprised Susan as well. She’d expected them to bubble right on top of the site of the attack to investigate. It would’ve made for a great ambush point if she’d been so inclined.
Her opponent had again confounded her expectations.
“They’re not even bothering with stealth,” Warner observed.
“CL to the CIC,” Susan said into the 1MC, then turned back to the plot. “No, they sure aren’t. They may as well be running with their damned nav lights and docking floods on. We’re supposed to see them coming.”
“They’re pissed,” Miguel said from over her shoulder. “They’re spoiling for a fight this time and want to make sure we know when and where.”
“Maybe…” Susan scratched her chin. “Why didn’t they jump to their dead oiler? I’d want to have a look if it was me.”
Miguel shrugged. “They saw the gamma spike. They know the AM tanks lost containment. There’s nothing left to look at.”
“Warner, what’s your take?” Susan said.
“I think the XO has a good scan on it. Maybe we’re really lucky and they’re low enough on gas they didn’t want to waste reserves on a jump just to visit a ghost.”
“Wouldn’t that be a nice break.” Susan mulled it over, but it was futile. The Xre were forcing her hand; she had no option but to run out to face them. And, depending on how far they pushed her, to destroy them if duty called.
She sighed. “Prepare to make immediate jump to a point fifty thousand klicks inside the treaty line on matching bearing to Bandit One. Call the crew to battle stations.”
“Aye, mum,” Miguel said. “Charts, spin up Alpha and Beta rings, plot jump for bearing three-one-five-point-zero-two-seven by zero-zero-two-point-five-five, ending fifty kiloklicks inside the treaty line.”
“Warm up alpha and beta, three-one-five-point-zero-two-seven by zero-zero-two-point-five-five, blow bubble for fifty kiloklicks inside the Red Line, aye sir!” Broadchurch
