Текст книги "Orion's Hounds "

Автор книги: Christopher Bennett

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“Riker!”Qui’hibra’s image appeared in an inset on the viewer. “Give me what I need and I will help you rescue your wife and crew. Refuse and I will prevent you from saving them.”Riker had been premature; Qui’hibra still had his leverage after all.

Again the branchers struck, and again Will felt the jellies’ agony hit Deanna. “Kuu’iut, hit the Pa’haquel, hard! Get us past them!”

Phasers and torpedoes lashed out from Titan.Kuu’iut, no slouch as a predator himself, went for the jugular, his beams and salvos targeting the weakest points, the meridional fissures and weapon emitters. But the skymounts moved swiftly and dodged, and continued to pound at Titan.One was struck a crippling blow and drifted off, but the others kept coming. Kuu’iut knocked another out of the fight, but still the stings pounded the shields, eating away at their strength. One particularly direct blow knocked Riker off his feet. Sparks flew from the ops console, and Dakal recoiled from the discharge, shielding his face. No matter how much Starfleet improved the surge protectors, there were still fundamental physical limits on what they could absorb.

Riker climbed to his feet and checked to make sure Dakal was all right. His face and uniform were a bit singed, but he was back at work already, reinitializing the console, his tough Cardassian hide serving him well. So Riker took a moment to judge his own condition. He seemed largely intact, but had sustained numerous scrapes and had a very sore left elbow. Belatedly, he sat down in the command chair and activated its restraint harness, ignoring Vale’s I-told-you-so glare.

And still the branchers’ feeding beams ripped at the jellies’ armor. The trapped jellies had begun returning fire, trying to blast an opening in the englobement. But they only succeeded in splitting two of the branchers into smaller units, which resumed their attack after mere seconds.

Meanwhile, the Pa’haquel’s stings were still eroding Titan’s shields to critically low levels. The ship rocked under a particularly severe impact, and Riker was grateful for the seat restraints. “Starboard phasers are down!” Vale cried. “Starboard impulse reactor in emergency shutdown! Life-support alarms on decks four through six!”

This isn’t working,Riker thought. Titancould stop the branchers with its graviton beam, if only it could reach the jellies. But Qui’hibra wouldn’t let him get near them, and even if he could, there was still the question in the back of his mind of whether he could allow that knowledge to fall into….

Wait.That was it! In a flash of insight, it all came together. The key was putting the knowledge into the righthands. Or rather, tentacles.

“Riker to Tuvok. Respond.”

“Tuvok here, sir.”

“Do you know the specs for the graviton beam we used on the branchers?”

“Aye, sir. I familiarized myself with it as a possible weap—”

“Never mind that! Just think about it. Focus on the specs. Show them to the star-jellies! Show them how to use it to fight the branchers!”

Titanshuddered under more stings. The jellies screamed psychically under more feeding beams. But then: “It is done, sir! The jellies are replicating the components now.”

Moments later, the branchers began to shudder and jerk away. Jaza superimposed a false-color effect on the viewer, making the gravity beams visible. Riker watched as the jellies struck at the branchers, holding the beams on them until they began to tremble. “Deanna, make them stop! That’s enough!” Seconds later, the beams broke off. But the branchers had had enough. One by one, they slinked away.

Riker noted that Qui’hibra’s fleet had stopped its attack. “What just happened, Riker?”the elder asked.

He met the Pa’haquel leader’s eyes. “I’ve just solved your problem, Qui’hibra. I’ve just given you a way you can use the live jellies in the Hunt, and become even more effective hunters than before.”

The raptor eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“We’ve just given the star-jellies a kind of graviton beam that allows communication with the branchers. As you’ve seen, it can also be used as a weapon against them. If the jellies had sustained their attacks, then the branchers would have been completely destroyed.”

“So you offer us a better way to kill branchers? That is valuable, but it is not enough. There are too many other threats.”

“You’re not getting it, Qui’hibra. Look what happened here. We didn’tkill the branchers—we controlledthem.” He exchanged a look with Vale. “And with that power…they can be herded. Possibly even trained. As you saw before, we also have a way to feed them energy. Reward as well as punishment. And maybe communication as well, up to a point.

“This is what I’m proposing. The Pa’haquel resume their efforts to work with the live jellies. But instead of using them as battleships…you use them as sheepdogs.” Doubting the metaphor would translate, he elaborated. “They now have the means to control the branchers, and once I give them the specs for the energy beam, they’ll have the means to reward them as well. You use those tools to tame the branchers. Herd them away from worlds with intelligent life, and focus their hunger on another rich source of bio-energy: the cosmozoans that you hunt. Make the branchers your hounds. That way the jellies don’t have to go into combat themselves, and you turn one of your most powerful enemies into a powerful new weapon of your own.”

Qui’hibra stared at him, standing silent for a long moment. Vale stared too. “Sheepdogs for hounds?” she muttered. “Let’s hope your plan works better than your metaphors. The shields are critical and we can barely maneuver.”

Se’hraqua came into the frame. “Elder, you cannot be considering this! He insults us by suggesting we become herders, weaklings!”

“Silence,”Qui’hibra told him. But to Riker he said, “The boy has a point, I fear. The Conclave will not think well of this scheme. It is not our way. I have doubts myself.”

“Is it so different from what you already do here, with the Proplydian?” Riker asked. “You don’t destroy it, since it doesn’t threaten planets. Instead you travel with it and use it to aid you in hunting other species. I’ve just given you a way to do the same with both the star-jellies andthe branchers.”

“It is very different. Trying to tame branchers, and having to hold the hands of live skymounts at the same time…it is overcomplicated. Risky. The Hunt, the way of tradition, is proven by time. We know it works. Give us the means to counter the skymounts’ advantages and we can restore it again.”

“I know you don’t truly believe that, Qui’hibra,” Deanna said from her star-jelly. “You know that things have changed forever, that a new solution must be found.”

“I thought I did at first, but many wise Pa’haquel believe otherwise. I am just a hunter, not a philosopher.”

“But you know the skymounts,” Deanna said. “You know them as living beings, better than any Pa’haquel ever has since before your people left Quelha. You have felt the rapport that can exist between your species, and you know in your bones that you can be stronger as partners than you could ever be as enemies.”

“That is what I would like to believe. But the Conclave has declared that the Hunt must resume. And the Hunt demands that I do what I must, not what I desire.”

“So you keep saying,” Deanna fired back, her voice hardening. “And I believe it. I believe that you will do whatever you must in the name of what you think is right. So if the Conclave says one thing, and you know that another thing is right, what does your loyalty to them matter? What does their authority matter? What does your tradition and cultural preference matter?

“You keep insisting that nothing matters to you as much as fighting the chaos, as much as preserving life throughout the galaxy. Well, here is lifefor you to preserve! Here is a whole species that you have it in your power to spare, right here, right now. A species that you revere and cherish, a species that is willing to forgive everything you’ve ever done to it and stand by your side as friends. A species that could be the greatest ally you’ve ever known.

“If they give you that, and you repay them with betrayal, with death—where is the balance in that?”

Qui’hibra was silent again for a long time. Deanna tried to read his body language, to strain her senses across space and pick up something from him, but she got nothing. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out. “Hunters! Stand down. There is no more prey here today.”

“What?”Se’hraqua challenged. “You would defy the Conclave?”

“You would defyme?” Qui’hibra’s voice was softer and more dangerous than she’d ever heard it.

The youth seethed. “I will stand down for now. But the Conclave will hear of this.”

“Yes, they will. I will tell them myself.”He faced the visual pickup again. “If you, Riker, and you, Troi, can prove to me that the branchers can be herded and used to hunt…then I will stand with you and prove it to the Conclave.”

“Thank you,”Riker said sincerely, and Deanna felt his flood of relief. “I hope this day will mark the beginning of a new era for this region of space.”

“Some things may change,”Qui’hibra said, unimpressed by the rhetoric. “But the Hunt goes on.”He paused. “Commander Troi…once again I offer my apologies for what I believed the Hunt required of me. I hope that now you are willing to forgive me.”

She crossed her arms and thought about it. The jellies were willing to forgive worse, as she had pointed out so emphatically moments ago. It would be a bit hypocritical not to follow suit. Still, she had to ask one thing. “Would you really have let Riathrek eat me alive bit by bit?”

He seemed surprised by the question. “Yes.”

She blinked. “Well, all right. Just as long as I know what I’m forgiving you for.”

CLAN AQ’TRI’HHE LEAD SKYMOUNT, STARDATE 57221.8

The Conclave of Elders watched the sensation wall speechlessly as it showed a trio of branchers, herded by live star-jellies under the direction of Huntsmaster Qui’shoqai and his clanmates, made short work of a group of spinners basking in the light of the Proplydian’s star. Deanna reached out with her mind, gauging their reactions, and found them too much in flux to let her judge how this would turn out. She turned to Will, who looked at her expectantly, and gave a fractional shake of her head.

“Now you have seen with your own eyes,” Qui’hibra declared when the demonstration was concluded and the branchers were being led meekly away. “We have achieved this much after only a few days of training. Imagine how much more we can accomplish. We can still be hunters, even more effective than before. The balance of life and death continues…but we and the skymounts need no longer be on opposite sides of that balance. And we need no longer lose so many of our wives, sons and daughters, see so many worthy lines diminished or snuffed out in Houndings. Imagine how many of your kin would still be here today if we could have sent the branchers against the harvester.”

Se’hraqua shot to his feet and spoke angrily. “You speak of the balance, but you do not understand it. The balance of life and death is not preserved if we no longer have the courage and commitment to sacrifice our own lives to the Hunt!”

“And how is it balanced,” Deanna challenged, “if there is so much death on both sides, and so little life? Death will always be there—it doesn’t need you to help it along.”

“This blasphemer has no right to speak here!”

“She is here as my advisor,” Qui’hibra countered, “and an honorary member of my clan. That gives her the right.” He addressed the Conclave as a whole again. “And she speaks wisely. The more of our lives we throw away, the more we diminish our strength against the chaos. Consider it. Consult with your singers of history. Have we ever had so few in a Great Hounding before, or come away with so few left alive? Our old ways were not in balance—they gave too much of an edge to death.”

Now Aq’hareq rose. “Our ‘old ways’ are our onlyways, Qui’hibra! They were handed down to us by the Spirit, passed on from generation to generation pure and unchanged. They are the way we were meant to be. Follow this corrupt path and the Spirit will never forgive you.”

“And what about the skymounts?” Deanna said. “In your tradition, you pray to them for forgiveness as well. And they are willing to forgive what you did to them when it was the only way for you to survive. But now it isn’t the only way anymore. You have a new way, a better way that lets both you and them live in harmony and far greater safety. If you try to hunt and kill them now, when there is no need for it, they will not give you their forgiveness.”

“The Spirit governs them too,” Aq’hareq replied, unruffled by her words. “They stray from Its path by seeking to evade the Hunt, and they will be shown their folly in time. The branchers will turn on them, or they will sicken with disease from having Pa’haquel live inside them, or the hotsprings of their breeding worlds will grow cold. One way or another, the true balance will be restored.”

“So it must be,” Se’hraqua added, “for so it is written.”

Deanna realized Aq’hareq was a lost cause, and probably Se’hraqua as well. For someone whose standard of truth was based solely on scriptural precedent, no argument based on reason or fact could ever be convincing. Fortunately, though, she sensed that other minds were more open. Her point about the jellies’ lack of forgiveness had affected many of them, as she had hoped it would. For all their violence toward the jellies, the Pa’haquel felt genuine reverence and gratitude toward them. It was nothing personal. She pitched her next words for them.

“Aq’hareq speaks of balance. If you want to see balance, look around you. Look where we are. The Proplydian is the greatest starbeast in all of Vela. It’s a symbol of the life force that pervades the galaxy, that sustains and defines you as a people. Do you have to kill it, or it you, to be in balance? No. You live alongside it, in symbiosis with it, in balance with it, as do countless starbeasts. It sustains a vast wealth of life, and does not need to die in order to do so. It pulses with life of its own, and does not need to kill to do so. Is this corrupt? Is this a path doomed to destruction? The Proplydian has lived longer than any other star-beast, longer than your entire species. It has earned your reverence and your awe. And it has done this without death. It has done this by balancing life with life.

“And now, here under the gaze of the Proplydian itself, the Pa’haquel can choose to do the same.”

For some time, there was silence, broken only by a few furtive murmurs between elders and advisors. Aq’hareq clearly was not convinced, but sensed the mood of the chamber and stayed quiet. Se’hraqua followed his lead.

Now the youngish elder Rhi’thath rose. “If we made this change, what would become of our traditions as a people? How could we ever ascend to manhood or eldership without the blood of skymounts to anoint us?”

“There are still other hunts in which you can win honor,” Riker said. “They don’t all have to be against skymounts.”

“But our most important ones do.”

“There may still be a solution to that,” Deanna said. “It was suggested to me by a fellow crew member, Orilly Malar. I’d like to ask her to tell you about it herself.”

After a bit of prompting, Orilly diffidently stepped forward. It had taken some doing to convince the Irriol cadet to come here; she still didn’t fully trust herself. But at the same time she had seen this as a way to help absolve her guilt, to offer something positive to make amends for the damage she’d done, and that had convinced her to come. “On my world of Lru-Irr,” she began slowly, “we have our own balance, and all living things are attuned to it. When…when there is need, sometimes the sick, elderly or…or injured members of a species—even my own species, sometimes—may allow themselves to be taken by predators. So that…so that the rest of their members may be spared, and the gestalt served. I…we have suggested to the jellies—the skymounts, sorry—that maybe their sick and elderly members, those who are past healing, could allow themselves to be ritually hunted, and end their lives swiftly rather than slowly and in pain. They, ah, they were uneasy with the thought…but they said they would consider it. That maybe you and they could negotiate something…along those lines.”

There was much muttering and discussion among the Conclave members. The empathic timbre was a mix of distaste and hope. “How can we settle for hunting the weak and feeble?” “We often take the weak and feeble as it is; there is no shame in it.” “But only to hunt volunteers? Could there be enough?” “We should give thanks that the skymounts would consent to it at all.” “And you saw how well they wielded the branchers. Imagine that power fighting for us instead of against us!”

Once the chatter settled, one of the matriarchs rose to ask a question. “What of the implementation of this? It requires telepaths for us to know the skymounts’ thoughts and wishes. Will you of Titanremain with us indefinitely?”

“I’m afraid we’d have to decline that honor,” Riker said. “We still have a mission of our own to resume. But there are other telepathic species in the region. The Vomnin are acquainted with several. You’ve excluded them from your alliance before because they were a security risk, but now that risk no longer exists.”

“If I may, sir,” Orilly said. She was terrified, Deanna could tell, but determined to get it out. “I’d like to stay with them,” she finally forced out in a rush of breath.

Riker and Deanna stared at her. “Cadet?” Riker asked.

“No disrespect to you or Titan,sir. It’s been an honor to serve with you. But…I think I can do more good here. I have a good rapport with the jellies…almost like the gestalt back home, except more conscious. These past few days, working with them to train the branchers…I’ve felt more content than I have since I left Lru-Irr.”

Deanna knelt to bring herself to Orilly’s eye level. “Malar, are you sure? You’ve worked so hard on your Starfleet training. And you have friends on Titan,you know that, right?”

One of Orilly’s trunk-hands patted her shoulder. “I know, Counselor. But it might not be forever. The Pa’haquel travel all over this part of space…we may run into each other again.”

Shortly thereafter, a vote was called. Many of the elders and family heads were slow to decide. The results trickled in slowly, and it was hard to get a sense of the outcome. But finally Qui’hibra’s proposal passed by a narrow but decisive margin. “So it is decided,” Qui’hibra announced. “From now on, the Pa’haquel will hunt alongside the skymounts and the branchers. We enter this covenant under the gaze of the Proplydian, and pray that it grant us its blessing, and its guidance in finding this new balance.”

But Aq’hareq, after a moment of building anger, shot to his feet. “My fleet-clan will not abide by the Conclave’s ruling! It is blasphemy and cannot stand! My clan will find a way to carry on the Hunt. We will go on killing skymounts as tradition demands. And any Pa’haquel who stand in our way will die as well!”

“The skymounts will not forgive your kills,” Qui’hibra shot back. “They will be tainted, corrupt. Your reanimations will fail, your clan will die.”

“That is for the Spirit to decide. Now you will leave my skymount. Along with any elders who would abide by this corrupt ruling. Any who wish to join me in the fight to preserve the Spirit’s traditions may remain, regardless of their clan.”

The declaration brought many angry replies from the high elders. “Outrageous!” “No one else dictates to my clan!” “You claim to stand for tradition?” But Deanna sensed much division. Many of the junior elders and family heads were tempted to stand with Aq’hareq, and his prestige and seniority carried much weight. But for the most part, loyalty to their own clans won out. Most chose to follow their high elders and beam back to their own fleets, but a few broke ranks to stand with Aq’hareq.

Finally only the Qui’Tir’Ieq contingent was left. Deanna looked to Se’hraqua, expecting him to stand with Aq’hareq. He and Qui’hibra locked gazes for a long moment. “Do not be a fool, Se’hraqua,” the elder said. “Do not defy the Conclave.”

“The Conclave is nothing,” Aq’hareq said. “It has grown weak and illegitimate. Come with us, Se’hraqua, and we will build a new Conclave, a new tribe. Come with me and you can kill a skymount of your own! Not some feeble old one that would have died soon anyway, but a vigorous, vital one, worthy to be the command mount of your own fleet, the birthplace of your own clan!”

Deanna felt his excitement. Aq’hareq offered him the fulfillment of all his desires, of the demands of his strongest instincts. But Qui’hibra’s stare still held him, refused to let him go. “Would you truly wish to make your choice based on that, Hunter? On your own gains, your own ambitions? Is that a righteous choice in service to the Spirit?”

“I…” Se’hraqua faltered. “I wish to defend our traditions. To keep things as they were meant to be.”

“I know you love our traditions, cherish the ancient ways. But you also love the skymounts, as much as I do. Possibly more, in your way—you are young, and your passions still burn hotter than mine. But I cannot tell you how deeply it has moved me to get to know the skymounts as living allies, to fight and hunt by their side, to feel them respond willingly to my needs and wishes. To know them, not as cold, dead machines, but as friends and partners. It has revived in me a love of the skymounts that I had almost forgotten. Imagine what it could be like for you, Se’hraqua.

“And imagine how it would be to go with Aq’hareq. To struggle to chase skymounts that could see you coming, that could brush off your attacks, that could drain your mounts of power and leave you stranded, unable to warp. And even if you could manage to kill one, imagine knowing that its spirit would never forgive you. Knowing that its body would only be a slave, not a gift. And knowing that you had chosen that path, not for love of the Spirit or the mounts, but for love of your own ambition and greed. Is that the life you would choose, Hunter? Is a clan of your own worth the price of your soul?”

Se’hraqua stood there, torn, for long moments more. Finally, Deanna felt him make his choice. It was a choice he still had doubts about, but he had made his decision and would abide by it. His eyes went to Aq’hareq’s, held them for a time—and then he stepped over to stand by Qui’hibra and his clan.

“A foolish choice,” Aq’hareq said. “And one you will pay for, Hunter.”

“Perhaps,” Se’hraqua replied. “But at least it is my choice.”

“As you will. But you and your clan are no longer welcome on this mount. And neither are your people, Riker. All of you, know that if our paths cross again, it will be as enemies.”

Qui’hibra ignored the other elder’s rhetoric, and came over to Riker and Troi. “It seems we must go now. Thank you for all you have done—for my people and the skymounts, and perhaps the galaxy.”

“Glad we could help,” Riker said.

“But the burden remains ours to carry. As you said, you have your own mission to resume.”

“We could stay with you a while longer,” Deanna said. “Help you with the transition.”

“No. This will be a difficult enough adjustment to make—if it is to work, the Pa’haquel must know that it is our own adjustment, not one imposed from without.”

Deanna nodded. “That’s very true.”

“However, I would accept your cadet’s offer to join us, if you will grant her leave.”

Riker looked to Orilly. “All right—let’s call it leave, then. An extended leave, until you decide to come back to Starfleet. Granted effective immediately.”

“Thank you, sir,” Orilly said. “I’ll try to do the Federation proud, as well as Lru-Irr.”

“I know you will be an asset to the Hunt,” Qui’hibra said.

That reminded Riker of the one thing that was still troubling him about this. “One more thing before you go,” he said. “I’d like you to consider something. In the past couple of weeks, you’ve learned that you can coexist peacefully and beneficially with two species you formerly believed you had to kill. I hope you—and your people—will keep in mind the possibility that the same could be true of the other starbeasts. That maybe the jellies and the branchers are only the first in this new covenant.”

The elder looked at him skeptically. “I am an old hound, Riker, slow to change. I may have reached my limit of changes by now.” He threw a look at Se’hraqua. “But maybe younger minds are more flexible. And it may be the wish of the Proplydian, of the Spirit. I will pass along the suggestion.”

“Thank you.”

“I will pass it along as well,” Orilly said. “On my world, living as one with our biosphere is second nature. Perhaps I can offer insights in how to coexist within the galactic biosphere.”

Deanna smiled at her. “If anyone can, Malar, you can. Good luck.”

Qui’hibra led Orilly over to stand with his group, and signalled his skymount. A watery shimmer came over them, and then they were gone. Riker looked around him one more time. “And I for one am tired of standing inside a corpse. Deanna—let’s go home.”