The Best Defense (near-future HFY) - One Giant Leap 16: Assumptions
Deputy Journeyman Harpa Gen
Date: 15.7.3.6.218 HC
Location: Librarian Survey Ship Curious Observer, transiting unregulated space
Harpa Gen knew better than to believe in superstition, but sometimes it nagged at him. In a secret core of his mind, never expressed to others, was the feeling that maybe, possibly . . . there was such a thing as luck. And that he had possibly used too much of it.
Farmer soldiers were prepared for brutal combat. In a galaxy where ships were rarely taken intact and any habitat that refused to surrender could simply be destroyed by missiles at a comfortable range, there was relatively little call for close combat. In fact, the primary use of soldiers was to defend against Domination invaders, as the latter were far more reluctant than the Hegemony to simply end resistance in nuclear fire. It was some tenant of their ridiculous beliefs or something; Harpa was pretty sure it had been in a briefing once or twice, but he didn’t much care about why it happened.
Besides, the Orbital Combat Agency was different from other Farmers. They were not there for defense. They were who the Hegemony sent in to pacify an unruly habitat that hadn’t surrendered but was too valuable to destroy, or to root out resistance among a surrendered population. Even, in rare cases, to clear a disabled Domination warship before it managed to destroy itself.
Harpa’s last mission had been . . . unpleasant. But given a choice of duty stations while he got used to his new limbs, he had requested a temporary transfer to what his family had always been known for: food preparation. There was just something so calming about planning meals for different species. Few outside the Farmer Guild truly cared about what went into maintaining the dietary needs of all species in the Hegemony. It was relaxing, especially on such a long and uneventful duty station as being assigned to a Librarian survey ship.
So of course the Librarians had to go and ruin his rest.
“Which primitive had this weapon?” Harpa Gen asked, pointing at the smokepowder weapon. At his request, the Librarians had laid out all of the confiscated items taken from the prisoners. That was something he’d learned in his time with the Orbital Combat Agency: what a sentient carried said much about who they were. And this item stood out among all the rest.
“That was Subject Eight,” Nna responded. He reached out with a manipulator to bring up the subject’s profile. “His words indicated he was a servant, which corroborated the ineffectiveness of the weapon.”
Librarians. Harpa resisted the urge to flatten his fringe. This was the problem when the “experts” did not consult with those who had experience. Rather like one of those ridiculous Second Guild War historical dramas the Librarian Entertainment Department spun from sknit-cloth.
But it would not do to speak his mind too freely to a superior, even one from another Guild. Instead, he spoke slowly and with as much respect as he could muster. “Why did you conclude this was the weapon of a servant?”
“It has no sensors and limited ammunition. In addition, other than its chemical propellant, that same ammunition is completely inert. It is not an effective combat device. The most likely conclusion was that Subject Eight was at most armed to protect a high-ranking master. Possibly it is even intended to be ceremonial.”
Harpa scowled. “Do you really think it is normal for a weapon to be both functional and ineffective?”
“That statement is contradictory.”
“If so, it is only contradictory for a Librarian. You seek meaning where there is none, and dismiss it where it exists. Observe here.” The prangalian picked up the smokepowder weapon and carefully examined the action. “See how smoothly it moves? Do you smell the lubricant? These scratches here, this worn metal there? Surely even a Librarian can see this.”
Nna just looked at Harpa with that unreadable tsirlan face. Harpa sighed again.
“Very well. I will tell you what I see. It is well-maintained, and the owner is not careless. Yet it is old and has seen much use. You can see that from these scratches, and how these parts of the metal are polished smooth from friction. These are not marks of ceremonial or occasional use. This is a weapon of one who practices with singular intent.”
“It is true I am not a veteran of the Orbital Combat Agency.” Nna’s artificial voice had little emotion to it, and Harpa had little experience reading the nuances of tsirlan tones, so Harpa couldn’t tell if the Librarian was being polite or sarcastic. Or perhaps it was both for tsirlan — they hadn’t been civilized for very long, and they were Hunters besides. “Yet it does not take one to know what an efficient weapon looks like. There are no targeting sensors. Not even a slot for expansion. It is purely mechanical and chemical in nature. We ran simulations based on your own Guild’s data on close-quarters combat, and it was determined it would not be appreciably accurate beyond approximately 48 marks. The information we obtained from the natives’ datanet indicates that they regularly engage in battle at greater ranges. Therefore, with such limited range, this weapon is not intended for a battlefield.”
“Do you realize how much combat takes place within 48 marks? If we board a ship or an orbital habitat, almost all fighting is done in tight corridors with limited range.”
“I do, in fact. Just as I know standard Farmer guidelines are to expect combat at that range to quickly move to melee, even when armed with burst-fire or automatic weaponry. This weapon only fires one unit of ammunition for each activation of the trigger. At a range of only 48 marks, a typical farian soldier would only be able to engage an enemy a maximum of four times, with an even chance of missing. A typical pranglian would only gain a very slight advantage due to your species’ better limb-sight coordination.”
“Not disputed.” Harpa tried to grip the weapon, sighting down its length. It fit oddly in his hand. “What I dispute is more fundamental.”
“And that is?”
“I’ve been in many battles, Librarian. I have learned something important from those experiences. The Hegemony may run on forms and bureaucracy. Combat does not.” Harpa put the weapon back on the table. “Looking for the right box for your assumptions is dangerous if your assumptions are wrong.”
The tsirlan rolled two of his eyes. “Clarify that context.”
“Pranglians make better soldiers than most other species, and so you are using my species as a baseline.” Harpa turned to leave the compartment. “But you don’t win a battle by assuming the enemy is less prepared or skilled than you are. Come, Deputy Supervisor. I require access to your ship’s security drones.”
A ship the size of the Curious Observer was mandated by regulation to carry a minimum of six security drones to supplement its Farmer compliment. When he had joined the crew, Harpa had been surprised to find that there was no Farmer security onboard. There were only the three Farmers assigned to meal preparation, himself included. He had been told that the Curious Observer had even lower priority than a typical Librarian survey ship — something about its shipmaster being on the wrong side of some Guild politics only Librarians could understand — and it showed in the quality of the supplies he and the other two Farmers had to work with, all the way up to how the ship only had one subordinate landing craft rather than the regulated three.
Harpa knew all that, and he was still surprised to find that they had only half of the regulated minimum number of security drones. How the Librarians even left civilized space, the pranglian would never know. At least he didn’t have to depend on the Librarians’ pitiful weapons locker to arm himself.
“I have set the drones to independent target acquisition,” Harpa told Nna as he readied his own weapon. “As the senior ranking being present, you have firing control. They are only armed with disrupters, but I do not know how their physiology will take it. Only release the drones to fire if there is need or I signal you. I will handle the rest.”
“I doubt this is necessary,” Kolcant protested. “They have no reason to attack us as long as we explain things peacefully. Even the Domination understands the need for medical care.”
“Of course, Healer Senior Journeyman,” Harpa said flatly, settling his Orbital Combat Agency-issued Starburst-7 into a comfortable ready grip. “I am certain it will go smoothly. I am ready, Deputy Supervisor.”
Without a word, Nna reached out one manipulator to activate the airlock. Harpa’s snout wrinkled as the air changed, becoming uncomfortably warm with the sharp tang of too much oxygen. It didn’t take the air long to equalize with that of the cargo bay, however, and the inner door began to slide open. The drones’ iron thrusters activated and they slipped out ahead of the three Hegemony officers. Harpa followed them the moment the opening was wide enough.
He had seen the images before, but the reality of seeing a new species was still something that made him pause. The most recent species to enter the Hegemony had been the torkans, an extremely primitive species in Sector Fark-Twelve-Sen-Eight that had not even discovered proper metals, and Harpa had only seen them once. They couldn’t even breathe normal air and had to wear encounter suits, so technically Harpa hadn’t actually seen them. Sentient life was rare, and a new species to join the Hegemony so soon would be . . . exciting.
They were built according to the same general outline as most species: bilateral symmetry, with a set of upper gripping limbs and lower movement limbs. They had mostly-bald skin; almost as bald as a ptalkan, but shades of pink and brown rather than green. The only fur they possessed was on their heads, mostly shades of brown but with two of the females possessing bright yellow. All but one of those females had much longer scalp-fur. Idly, Harpa wondered what that meant, and if the female with the short scalp-fur was defective somehow.
Mostly, Harpa tried to ignore the smell. All species had their odors, and he had thought he was used to it. Perhaps he was simply used to the familiar smells of Hegemony species. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if these primitives wouldn’t need genetic editing just to fit into civilized society.
“Courtesy from Ground,” one of the primitives finally said. “Escort myself to your administrator.”
Most of the primitives made barking noises at that. Agreement? Aggression?
Kolcant stepped forward. “I am Healer Senior Journeyman Kolcant Pras,” he said, speaking slowly and carefully. “I am only here to give Subject Two a medical examination.”
“That who?” demanded one of the largest primitives, standing closest to Harpa.
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His stance seemed relaxed, but something in it suggested readiness. Harpa checked his combat implant, which he’d pre-loaded with the primitives’ designations, and saw his hunch was correct. This was Subject Eight, the one who owned the slow-firing yet well-used weapon Harpa had examined earlier. This was the one who would likely cause the most trouble.
Nna pointed a manipulator at a pair of females, one with dark fur, the other yellow. “That one.”
The dark-haired Subject Two shuddered and let out a moan like a wounded animal. She pressed her face against the yellow-furred female, which Harpa’s implant identified as Subject Nine. The one the Librarians had identified as the leader of this group.
“[Disapproval], no, [in the name of Condemnation],” Subject Nine announced.
“Attempt this will require action that myself penetrates,” Subject Eight added.
Harpa’s translator had trouble with the primitives’ speech. Not unexpected, of course, and their body language conveyed their meaning clearly. Harpa swung his Starburst-7 up to cover Subject Eight. “Compliance.”
“Delay!” announced another primitive, the other woman with yellow scalp-fur. Her fur was barely longer than that of the males. Subject Six, Harpa noted. Did the hair color indicate a higher caste? “Certain am I of the ability to negotiate. Bond-mate mine is powerful and–
“You do not speak for your tribe,” Nna interrupted her. “I have monitored your social dynamics. Negotiation is pointless, and it is not amusing for you to try.”
Subject Six stomped forward. Harpa eyed her, though he kept most of his attention on the more dangerous Subject Eight. “You defy–“
One of the drones fired its disruptor. The laser-charged bolt of electricity slammed into the primitive, causing her to scream and drop to the floor. But she didn’t fully collapse. Clearly the Librarian drone was defective, because that charge should have stunned a being of her mass.
Harpa barely had time to scowl before Subjects Eight and Ten were on him. Fortunately, the targeting assistance on his Starburst-7 was already tracking Eight and had been pre-selected for the underslung disrupter barrel. Eight took a bolt of electricity squarely in his chest, causing him to stumble and fall. With cycles of long practice, Harpa tracked to Subject Ten, but he had not been prepared for how fast the primitives were. He knew they were from a higher-gravity world, but they moved like enhanced soldiers. Ten had grabbed the barrel of the Starburst-7 before Harpa could stop him.
An Orbital Combat Agent was not so easily disarmed, however. The primitive was amazingly strong, but mere strength could not —
A blow to Harpa’s ribs surprised him, and he automatically lashed out with one leg — only to feel it caught by an almost mechanically-strong grip. A moment later, he was pulled off-balance, crashing to the floor. Subject Ten succeeded in pulling the Starburst-7 from his grip. Harpa tried to roll to one side as he had been trained, but he found himself pinned. He looked up and was astonished to see Subject Eight holding him in place, conspicuously not unconscious or in the midst of a seizure.
“Unaware am I of total force needed to shatter bones yours,” the primitive growled, painfully twisting Harpa’s arm. “Willing to experiment I am. Wish to join me do you?”
Harpa gasped, more in surprise than pain. That shot should have taken down anyone short of a Xgrar. Had Harpa inputted the wrong settings?
Another flash of light, and a bolt from one of the drones slammed into Subject Ten. The primitive let out a roar of pain and stumbled back, but didn’t fall. He raised the Starburst, but its anti-tampering software detected an unauthorized user and its alarm sounded. The weapon began powering down. The primitive’s face twisted, though Harpa was too busy to try deciphering the expression. Subject Ten then threw the weapon at Nna.
No — not at Nna, at the drone that had just shot Ten, hovering above Nna. He missed, of course, no one could make that throw, especially with the spin-simulated gravity on such a small ship —
Another object slammed into the drone, causing it to flip. Its sensors were clearly confused and attempted to rise out of the way, but its new orientation caused it to slam into the deck. It struggled, then automatically powered down. Blasted cheap Librarian equipment, taken out by a . . . was that a foot covering?
One of the primitives stepped into Harpa’s view, holding another foot covering. He threw that one as well, and Harpa stopped struggling against Subject Eight’s grip as he heard the unmistakable impact against the other drone. A moment later, Harpa heard smashing sounds, as if a primitive were crushing it repeatedly.
How? How? Not once, but twice? No species was so accurate with thrown objects, not without implants, and these primitives did not have any!
The primitive let out a long, drawn-out howl of celebration and perhaps religious fervor. Eventually, Harpa’s translator rendered it as “Purpose,” which made no sense at all.
“Cease!” came a translated voice.
Harpa couldn’t see who it was at first, but then Subject Ten grabbed his head and forced him into a new position, without weakening Subject Eight’s grip. “Let myself you help, defecation orifice,” the primitive growled.
The new vantage point showed one of the other primitives, a female this time, with her arms around Kolcant’s neck. “I remain unfamiliar with anatomy yours,” Subject Three announced, “but I feel breathing his through throat his. I have suspicion that this is necessary for survival yours. I can block the passage of air.”
“Please,” Kolcant begged, “all I wish is to examine Subject Two! I have no desire to harm you in any way! I am a Healer, and an adherent of the Oathkeepers! I affirm I will not harm her, and merely intend to help her with her illness.”
“Touch her you will not,” Subject Nine announced.
“This is a pointless standoff,” Nna observed. Harpa still couldn’t read tsirlan body language, but the Librarian seemed particularly calm for what had just happened. “You have nowhere to go. You cannot get to your planet. You also cannot stop us. We only came in at the Healer’s request that we not use a sedative gas. One command from me and that gas will be released again. It will render me and my fellows unconscious as well, but we will be retrieved and revived before you wake. Subject Two will be separated from you regardless of your efforts. It is in your own best interests to comply.”
“Heard that before I have,” Subject Five remarked, crossing his dark-skinned arms.
“Go I will.” A voice from outside Harpa’s vision spoke up.
“No, Ji-min!”
“No wish have I for harm to all.”
“This is wisdom.” Nna rested his manipulators against his body. “Now release Healer Senior Journeyman Kolcant and Farmer Deputy Journeyman Harpa.”
“Names of yours fill the mouth.” Subject Eight looked down at Harpa. “Farmer? Not Soldier Guild?”
“Yes,” Harpa grunted. “The Farmer Guild is the soldier Guild.”
“This constructs understanding.” Eight grunted as well. “The [farm-young-males] the best soldiers are. Raised in agriculture I was, too.”
It took Harpa a moment to process that translation. “Your farmers are soldiers?”
“Affirmation.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Why?”
“Because the Protector caste is far above the Worker caste.”
“Uh.” Eight looked at Ten, who just lifted his shoulders in an unreadable gesture. “Affirmation, fellow, no idea have I about what you are talking.”
The light changed, and an alarm began sounding. Long experience told Harpa what it was, but Kolcant and even Nna looked startled.
“Release me!” Harpa ordered. “That is a Level One alert! Imminent danger!”
“Unknown ship detected,” came Chief Journeyman Sinak’s voice. “Suspected unregulated criminal. Range — less than one trimark! Contact in two spans!”
Jessica Richards
Date: Clobbering time, apparently
Location: Impromptu space-MMA octagon
Jessica’s mind reeled. She’d thought Katharina was dead at first. Then Pete and Nash had rushed Lizard Guy, and Pete had been shot too, and Ricardo had taken out both drones with his shoes, and then little, sweet, cheerful Hua had threatened to choke the alien doctor to death.
“Thando, Manjeet, get Katharina!” she ordered.
“I’m fine,” Katharina protested. “I don’t need your–“
“Shut up, bitch,” Jessica told her, trying to listen to what the aliens were saying.
“Standoff this is without merit,” Spider Guy was saying. “Nowhere to go have you. To your planet you cannot travel.. We you cannot stop. Came we at the Healer’s request to not use gas sedative. At my command, however, the gas may be released. Unconscious it will cause me and my comrades/ship-siblings to be, but awake you will not be before retrieved we are. Subject Two separated from you will be, regardless of efforts yours. Submission-to-authority is in your interest.”
“Yeah.” Thando crossed his arms. “Heard that one before.”
“I’ll go,” Ji-min spoke up from where she still leaned against Jessica.
“Ji-min, no!” Jessica stared at her, shocked.
“I don’t want them to harm any of you,” the Korean woman said, trying to smile.
“Wisdom this is,” Spider Guy announced, holding his bizarre arms against his boulder-like body. “Release now Healer Senior Journeyman Kolcant and Farmer Deputy Journeyman Harpa.”
“Y’all’s names are a mouthful.” Pete looked down at Lizard Guy, still pinned under his knee and with one arm twisted behind him. “Farmer, huh? Not part of the Soldier Guild or something?”
“Affirmation,” the reptilian grunted. “Farmer Guild is soldier Guild.”
“I guess that makes sense. Farmboys usually make the best soldiers. I was raised on a farm myself.”
Harpa twisted his head to look at Pete. “Farmers yours are soldiers?”
“Yep.”
“Nonsensical.”
“Why?”
“Because Protector caste rises above the Worker caste.”
“Uh.” Pete glanced at Nash, who just shrugged. “Yeah, dude, no clue what you’re saying.”
At that moment, the light shifted the same way it did when they got a void announcement, but this time there was an alarm sound they’d never heard before. Harpa immediately became agitated, while the fox-faced doctor looked surprised. Even the spider-monster seemed concerned, with the way he suddenly dipped his body and spread his arms like he was ready to jump onto the ceiling.
“Release me,” Harpa insisted, the Microsoft Sam voice contrasting with the urgency in the real one Jessica could heard over her earbuds. “That is a Priority Alert Highest. Danger immediate.”
“Detection of ship unknown,” came another Microsoft Sam voice, this time clearly projected from the ceiling like before. “Suspicion of Those-Who-Hunt-and-Take-Unlawfully. Under one trimark range. Contact in two spans is.”
“What does that mean?” Jessica demanded.
“Under attack we are,” Harpa told her. “Proximity they must have possessed at our transition. For we to have detected them not, must them have been drifting close until escape we cannot.”
“How do you know that?” Katharina demanded, shoving Manjeet aside as he tried to check her eyes. “Just because they surprised you doesn’t mean they’re attacking!”
“This is unregulated space. They possess intent to invade.”
“Right,” Pete said, clearly thinking fast. “If they’re close enough to board, they’re close enough to destroy us. And ‘those who hunt and take unlawfully’ sounds like a direct translation of ‘pirate’ to me. Hey, Harpa or whatever your name is — if I let you up, what will you do?”
“Duty mine,” Harpa responded immediately. “This ship defend, though the only soldier I am present.”
“Can I trust you not to harm us?”
“Negation.” Again, no hesitation. “Duty mine is first.”
“Fair. Can you trust me?”
“Negation. Yet respect I offer. Not often is myself defeated, though repeat of engagement I desire.”
“Respect I can live with.” Peter let go and stood up. “And I might take you up on that rematch.”
“I wouldn’t,” Nash muttered. “Fair fights are for idiots.”
The reptilian slowly, carefully, rose to his feet, watching the humans as warily as they watched him. After a moment’s hesitation, Hua also released the alien doctor and moved back to rejoin the other humans.
“Pete,” Jessica said slowly, “are you sure about this?”
“Contact in one span,” the ship intercom announced.
“We’re stuck here, Jessica.” Pete pointed at the ceiling. “And I doubt the people coming in are going to be any better. Probably worse.”
“Why not?” Manjeet asked, tilting his head to one side. “The enemy of my enemy and all that.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my enemy’s enemy,” Pete responded, “no more, no less.”
“Oooh!” Chris clapped his hands. “I love that book!”
“Where are they going to breach?” Pete asked Harpa.
“Outer hatches are three,” the alien responded, pointing at the big door with the window. “That one is. Another occupied is by landing craft. Third most likely is. Lights in it are off. Clearly unoccupied it is.”
“Oh, sure, the lights get to be off over there,” Jessica scoffed.
“Regulation it is,” Spider Guy answered. “Work spaces while in use must be lit.”
“Do you do everything by bureaucracy?” Katharina asked.
“Affirmation. Interstellar cooperation impossible otherwise.”
“Weapon mine I shall now retrieve, Peet.” Harpa moved to where his alien rifle had landed. “Hurry I must. Weapon mine is locked from access unauthorized. Restoration time will take.”
“Got it.” Pete glanced at Jessica, then back at Harpa. “What will happen if they board us?”
“Take all valuables they will,” the reptilian answered, pressing buttons on his rifle. “Kill all who make not valuable slaves.”
“So, just to clarify, we’re all in danger?”
“Less so. Some of yours might valuable slaves make.”
Jessica frowned. “Yeah, that’s not comforting.”
“Nope.” Pete nodded at Nash, who nodded back after a moment. Then Pete looked at the aliens. “I’ll come help.”
The reptilian paused, considering it. “What of that one?” he asked, indicating Nash.
“I’m no soldier,” Nash said easily. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“Affirmation,” Harpa replied. “Help I shall accept.”
“None are a soldier,” the spider alien objected. “What way will you aid, Subject Eight?”
“Damn right.” Pete’s grin was predatory. “I’m better than a soldier. I’m a Marine . . . and pirates are my natural prey.”
