The Armageddon Inheritance

“We would have you and your people live, Brashieel. Not because we love you, for we have cause to hate you, and many of us do. Yes, and fear you. But we would not have your ending upon our hands, and that is why we hurt you with such thoughts. We must learn whether or not we can allow your Nest to live. Forgive us, if you can, but whether you can forgive or not, we have no choice.”

And with that, Hohrass left the nest place, and Brashieel was alone with the agony of his thoughts.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You think it’s really as grim as Brashieel seems to think?”

Colin looked up as Horus’s recorded message ended. Even for an Imperial hypercom, forty-odd light-years was a bit much for two-way conversations.

“I know not,” Jiltanith mused. Unlike his other guests, she was present in the flesh. Very present, he thought, hiding a smile as he remembered their reunion. Now she flipped a mental command into the holo unit and replayed the final portion of Horus’s interview with Brashieel.

“I know not,” she repeated. “Certes Brashieel believes it so, but look thou, my Colin, though he saith such things, yet hath he held converse with ‘Hursag and Father. Moreover, ’twould seem he hath understood what they have said unto him. His pain seemeth real enow, but ’tis understanding—of a sort, at the least—which wakes it.”

“You’re saying what he thinks and says are two different things?” Hector MacMahan spoke through his holo image from Sevrid’s command deck. He looked uncomfortable as a planetoid’s CO, for he still regarded himself as a ground-pounder. But, then, Sevrid was a ground-pounder’s dream, and she had the largest crew of any unit in the fleet, after Fabricator, for reasons which made sense to most. They made sense to Colin and Jiltanith, anyway, which was what mattered, and this conversation was very pertinent to them.

“Nay, Hector. Say rather that divergence hath begun ’twixt what he doth think and what he doth believe, but that he hath not seen it so.”

“You may be right, ’Ta

“When Brashieel and I talked,” Ninhursag continued, choosing her words with care, “the impression I got of him was … well, i

“Hm.” Coha

“Programmed.” Jiltanith tasted the word thoughtfully. “Aye, mayhap ’twas the word I sought. Yet ’twould seem his programming hath its share o’ holes.”

“That’s the problem with programming,” Coha

“And you think that’s what’s happening with Brashieel?” Colin mused.

“Well, at the risk of sounding overly optimistic, it may be. Brashieel’s a resilient lad, or he’d’ve curled up and died as soon as he realized the bogey men had him. The fact that he didn’t says a really astounding amount about the toughness of his psyche. He was actually curious about us, and that says even more. Now, though, what we’re asking him to believe simultaneously upsets his entire worldview and threatens his race with extinction.

“We’ve had a bit of experience facing that kind of terror ourselves, and some of us haven’t handled it very well. It’s worse for him; his species has built an entire society on millions of years of fear. I’d say there’s a pretty good chance he’ll snap completely when he realizes just how bad things really are from the Achuultani perspective. If he makes it through the next few weeks, though, he may find out he’s even tougher and more flexible than he thought and actually decide Horus was telling him the truth.”

“And how much good will that do?” Tamman’s holo image asked. “He was only a fire control officer aboard a scout. Not exactly a mover and shaker in a society as caste-bound as his.”

“True,” Colin agreed, “but his reaction is the only yardstick we have for how his entire race will react if we really can stop them. Of course, what we really need is a larger sample. Which, Hector,” he looked at MacMahan, “is why you and Sevrid will do exactly what we’ve discussed, won’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t have to like it.”

Colin winced slightly at the sour response, but the important thing was that Hector understood why Sevrid must stay out of the fighting. She would wait out the engagement, stealthed at a safe distance, then close in to board any wrecked or damaged ships she could find.

“That reminds me, ’Ha

“We’re in good shape,” Coha

“Ah? Oh! Metal bones.”

“Exactly. They’re not all that ferrous, but a properly focused field can lock their skeletons. Muscles, too. Have to secure them some other way pretty quick—interrupting the blood flow to the brain is a bad idea—but it should work just fine. Geran and Caitrin are turning them out aboard Fabricator now.”

“Good! We need prisoners, damn it. We may not be able to do anything with them right away, but somewhere down the road we’re either going to have to talk to the Nest Lord or kill his ass. In some ways, I’d rather waste him and be done with it, but that’s the nasty side of me talking.”

“Aye, art ever over gentle with thy foes,” Jiltanith said sourly, but then her face softened. “And rightly so, for where would I be hadst thou not been thy gentle self when first we met? Nay, my love. I do not say I share thy tenderness for these our foes, yet neither will I contest thy will. And mayhap, in time, will I come to share thy thoughts as well. Stranger things have chanced, when all’s said.”

Colin reached out and squeezed her hand gently. He knew how much it cost her to say that … and how much more it cost to mean it.

“Well, then!” he said more briskly. “We seem to be in pretty good shape there; let’s hope we’re in equally good shape everywhere. Horus and Gerald are making lots better progress than I expected upgrading Earth’s defenses. They may actually have a chance of holding even if we lose it out here, as long as we can take out half or more of the main body in the process.”

“A chance,” MacMahan agreed. He did not add “but not a very good one.”

“Yeah.” Colin’s tone answered the unspoken qualifier, and he tugged on his nose in a familiar gesture. “Well, we’ll just have to see to it they don’t have to try. What’s our situation, Vlad?”