Carthago Delenda Est

Seeing the Voivode’s increasingly rapid finger-flexing, the Pilot hurried to her conclusion.

“The data indicate that the natives of that planet have recently developed the capacity to manipulate the electromagnetic spectrum. Radio waves, to be precise.”

Agayan’s clusters spread wide with puzzlement.

“Radio? Of what possible use-”

“It is a primitive technique, Guild Voivode. No advanced civilization bothers with radio, but-according to the Historiographic Bureau, at least-the radio portion of the electromagnetic spectrum is typically the first point of entry for civilizations which-”

The significance of the information finally penetrated. Agayan lurched erect.

“Civilization?” he screeched. “Are you trying to claim that these-these human savages have reached the point of industrial chain reaction?”

The Pilot scuttled back on her footskirt. Her color was now so deep a purple as to be almost black.

“I’m not claiming anything, Guild Voivode! I’m just relaying what the-”

“Ridiculous! I know these humans, you fool! They served under me. There is no-no-”

Agayan’s indignation overwhelmed him. He fell silent, fiercely trying to bring his fury under control.

The Investigator interjected itself. “No species in the historical record has reached industrial chain reaction in less than two hundred thousand years since initial habitat domestication,” it stated ponderously. “And none has done so since the last of the Doge Species.”

The Pilot said nothing. She was tempted to point out that the policies of both the Federation and the Guilds were precisely designed to prevent such occurrences, but suppressed the whimsy ruthlessly. Foolish, she was not.

Agayan finally restored his calm enough to speak. Icily:

“That is quite enough, Pilot. You may go. This information-this preposterous twaddle, I should say-will be corrected as soon as we reach that planet. Set the course.”

“Yes, Guild Voivode. I have already done so. Your instructions, as always, were very clear and precise.”

Agayan spread his clusters in acknowledgement of the praise. “Send a message to Guild Headquarters informing them that we are Transiting to the human planet.”

The Pilot scuttled out of the chamber as fast as her ungainly form of locomotion permitted.

Agayan resumed his position of rest. “I ca

“Ptatti gattokot poi toi rhuch du! Ptatti gatt!”

All six of Agayan’s clusters knotted in shock. The sheer volume of the Gha commander’s voice had been almost like a physical blow.

The shock deepened. Deepened.

Dazed, the Voivode watched one of the Gha sepoys stride forward from its position against the wall and shatter the Investigator’s spinal cord with a single blow of its fist. Shatter it again. Seize Yuaw Khta’s lolling head and practically twist it in a full circle.

The Voivode could hear the bones break.

Ancestral reflex coiled Agayan into a soft ball. He heard the Gha commander bellowing more phrases in the sepoy language. Two of the Gha immediately left the chamber.

Agayan was utterly paralyzed. He could not even speak. Only watch.

His soft-bodied species, some distant part of his brain noted, did not respond well to physical danger.

Standing in front of him, now, he recognized the figure of the Gha commander.

The Gha spoke to him. He did not understand the words.

The sepoy spoke again. The meaning of the words finally penetrated. Oddly, Agayan was surprised more by the fact of those words than their actual content. He had not realized that Gha could speak Galactic beyond a few crude and simple phrases.

“I said,” repeated the Gha, “do you know my name?”

Paralyzed. Only watch.

The sepoy repeated its question: “Do you know my name, Guild Voivode Agayan?”

The Gha towered above him like an ogre. Immense, heavy-planet muscles coiled over that rangy, vertebrate body. Strength. Leverage. Power.

The other Gha spoke now, also in fluent Galactic: “Just kill him and be done with it.”

The sepoy commander: “Soon enough.” To the Voivode: “Do you know my-ah! No use.”

The monster reached down a huge hand and seized the Voivode by one of his forelimb clusters. A moment later, still curled into a ball, Agayan found himself suspended in midair. The Gha commander’s bulging eyes were right before him.

Paralyzed. Only watch.

“My name,” said the Gha softly, “is Fludenoc hu’tut-Na Nomo’te. Since I have served you for more years than I wish to remember-a second time, now, when the first was bad enough-I feel that it is only proper that you should know my name.”

Paralyzed. Only watch.

“I will even educate you in the subtleties. Some of them, at least. Fludenoc is the familiar. Nomo the family name, with the ‘te-suffix to indicate that we are affiliated to the Na clan. Hu’-tut is an honorific. It indicates that my clan considers my poetry good enough for minstrel status.”

Paralyzed. Only watch.

“I will not bother explaining the fine distinctions which we Gha make between poets. They would be quite beyond your comprehension, Guild Voivode. Even if you were still alive.”

The Gha’s other hand seized Agayan’s head. Began to squeeze. Stopped.

“On second thought, I’d better not crush your wormface beyond recognition. The Romans are probably holding a grudge against us. If they can recognize your corpse, it may help.”

Paralyzed. Only watch. The Voivode saw the two Gha who had left the chamber return. Dragging the Pilot and the Medic with them.

The Gha commander’s clawed hand plunged into Agayan’s mid-section. Pushing the soft flesh aside until it gripped the vital organs at the center.

“I’m sure you never knew the names of the three Romans you executed, either. To my own shame, I only know one of them. Helvius, he was called.”

Squeezed. Squeezed.

Paralyzed, even at his death. Only watch.

The Guild Voivode’s last thought was perhaps inappropriate. It seemed outrageous to him that there was still no expression on the Gha’s face.

III

The Guild official’s body made a soft plopping sound when Fludenoc hu’tut-Na Nomo’te finally let it fall to the deck. Around the corpse, a pool of pink blood spread slowly from the Voivode’s alimentary and excretory orifices. The Gha commander’s incredibly powerful grip had ruptured half of Agayan’s internal organs.

“I am not cleaning up that mess,” a

Fludenoc barked humor. “The worm didn’t have a neck to break. And I meant what I said, Uddumac. His corpse-if they recognize it-may be our passkey with the Romans.”

Uddumac made the sudden exhalation of breath which served Gha for a facial grimace. “All right, Fludenoc. Explain.”

The other two Gha in the room flexed their shoulders, indicating their full agreement with that sentiment. The gesture was the equivalent of vigorous head nodding among humans.

Before answering, Fludenoc examined the Pilot and the Medic. The Pilot was utterly motionless. Much like the species which had produced Agayan, the Pilot’s race also responded to sudden danger by instinctive immobility. Only her color-pale violet, now-indicated her terror.

There would be no problems with her, Fludenoc decided. He did not think she would recover for some time.

The Medic, on the other hand The Medic belonged to a species which would have seemed vaguely avian to humans. His instinctive reaction to shock was rapid flight. Yet, aside from an initial attempt to struggle free from the iron grip of the Gha who had captured him, the Medic seemed almost tranquil. His Gha captor still held him by the arm, but the Medic was making no attempt to escape.