Vorpal Blade

36

“It’s a planetary defense system,” Weaver said, looking at the plans.

The “anomaly room” had contained more than just the control dais. There were metal plates with complex formulas, schematics and a strange language.

The entire assembly had been packed back out by the remaining Marines and Royal Guardsmen. The dead Marines from the battle were carried out on the backs of dragons. Remarkably tame dragons that followed the orders of Lady Che-chee like so many dogs. The whole procession had ended up in the palace along with the officers from the ship.

“It might even be a system designed to fight the Dreen,” he continued. “The big chamber is where the weapons are forged. But why do they track in on electrical signals?”

“Want a guess?” Miller asked. “Somebody gained control of it during a war between Cheerick. Or maybe the last guardian of it set it to the simplest thing she could imagine, knowing that any enemy would use electricity.”

“But now we know what it is truly designed for,” Lady Che-chee said, looking at the plans. “Yes, I saw all of this on the bed. Also I could see how to stop the Demons attacking.”

“And towing back the ship,” Chief Miller said, looking over at Captain Blankemeier and grinning. “That was a hell of a sight.”

“You should have seen it from my perspective, Chief Warrant,” the CO said bitterly. “There we were, dead in space. All of a sudden, the flies stopped firing. Great. Then they grab onto the ship and start towing it back to the planet. Ever seen a wasp pick up a spider it’s taking home to feed to its young?”

“Hmmm…” Bill said. “Lady Che-chee?”

“Commander Beeel?”

“Is there a way you could get one of those guys to fly over to your estate? While the ship’s being worked on I think we need to take a look at it.”

“Ahem,” the CO said. “Might I point out to you, XO, that the duty of getting this ship functional is yours?”

“Understood, sir,” Bill replied, straightening up. “There are others that can take a look at it. Permission to have a brief discussion with First Sergeant Powell and Chief Miller before I get into reconstructing a half-destroyed ship sufficiently to make it spaceworthy back to earth?”

“Permission granted,” the CO said. “But make it short.”

“It actually does look like a dragonfly, doesn’t it?” First Sergeant Powell said, walking around the grounded… thing.

The “dragonfly” was about twelve meters long from what looked like a feeding tube to the end of its abdomen. However, it had no segmentation and no antennae, its legs were extremely stubby and instead of having a head, thorax and abdomen it had three sections not nearly as well delineated. The junctures were thick, unlike an insect. The two sets of wings were also separated by a short, indented, section where the thorax would be.

“More like a solfugid that’s evolved to fly,” Dr. Robertson said, circling in the other direction. “But the similarity is interesting.”

Three of the beasts had been directed to Lady Che-Chee’s estate and now rested on the front lawn. In deference to the Mother, who had done the directing, the group had waited until she returned to begin their examination. But she had just arrived and now stepped off her gravboard.

“Solfugid?” Berg asked.

“About the only kind you might know about is a camel spider,” Dr. Robertson replied. “But they’re found in various places.”

Lady Che-chee looked at it and flipped her hands a few times, chittering something.

“She thinks it’s pretty but she’s not sure of its use,” Miriam said. “Neither am I.”

“Well, for them, ground support,” Powell replied. “Fire those lasers down on enemy troops and you’re going to win about any battle.”

When that was translated Cha-chai spat out a sentence and wrinkled his nose, at which point his mother apparently dressed him down with a few pungent squeals.

“Cha-chai thinks that’s an unsporting way to fight,” Miriam said unhappily. “Lady Che-chee pointed out that all war is unsporting or it’s not war. But she’s still unhappy about the idea.”

“The system was created to defend your planet,” First Sergeant Powell said, nodding. “Apparently by long gone Cheerick. Using it against other Cheerick would be… unethical. However, there’s another reason we’re finding out what we can do with it.” He walked over to the thorax area and laid his hand on the indented part.

“I was looking at that,” Dr. Robertson said. “That looks very much like…”

“A saddle,” Powell replied. “I think this probably won’t work, but… Berg.”

“Top?”

“Up on the saddle, Two-Gun.”

“Thought you were about to volunteer me,” Berg said, but he strode over and hopped up on the dragonfly. “Gee-yap,” he said, kicking his feet. “Nada, Top.”

“Think up or fly or something, like a board.”

Berg got a look of concentration on his face, then shook his head.

“Nada.”

“Okay, Miss Moon, could you ask Lady Che-chee if she would be willing to volunteer her son for the same exercise?”

“Okay,” Miriam said, then started talking. It took a bit to get across but finally Cha-chai walked over and climbed on the seat. Almost immediately, the dragonfly took off.

“How high did you tell him to go?” Powell asked as the dragonfly climbed upwards.

“I just asked if he could try to fly it,” Miriam said desperately. She chittered at Lady Che-chee for a moment, then shrugged. “Lady Che-chee says that when you go high on the boards, it is noticeable that you get thinner air. He should stop then…”

“Let’s hope,” Powell said, picking up the mike of the long-range radio. “Blade, Blade, Marine Seven.”

“Go, Marine Seven.”

“Do we have any radars left?”

“Hold one.” There was a pause. “Tactical is maintaining a watch using the weather set. They’ve blaged it up for tactical but it’s not great. They said a bogey just went up from your location.”

“Roger. Can we get a read on its altitude, please?”

“Stand by.”

“Marine Seven, Tactical. Bogey is at angels thirty and ascending. What is the situation, over?”

“Shit,” Powell muttered, then keyed the mike. “Tac, be aware that a local is riding the bogey. Apparently it is now an out of control fly since he’s got to be out of air.”

“Roger, will advise. Bogey is maintaining rate of climb and attitude. Passing angels forty. Velocity is Mach One Dot Three and increasing. Passing Fifty. Passing Sixty. Marine Seven, be advised this looks a lot like an extra-atmospheric mission, over.”

“Roger.”

“Passing ninety. Bogey One is now officially extra-atmospheric at Angels One Zero Five. Speed decreasing. Leveling off at Angels One One Six or close. This is the wrong radar for this, Marine Seven, but that looks to be it. Bogey sure appears to be under positive control. Bogey is beginning reentry. Looks to be headed to your location.”

“Thank you, Tac,” Powell said. “If there’s any major change, let me know.”

“Glad to help. You said somebody was riding this thing?”

“Roger.”

“Then they just took a ride into space.”

Cha-chai was hooting fit to die as he landed the dragonfly and hopped off. He ran around squeaking for quite some time before his mother could get him calmed down.

“What’s he saying?” Powell asked.

“Most of it’s incoherent,” Miriam replied, smiling. “The one part I’m getting is ‘The World Is Round!’ ”

“We’re sure about this?” the CO asked.

“The dragonflies are controllable by a pilot, much like the boards,” Bill replied tiredly. He’d been working nonstop trying to get the ship spaceworthy. Having this on his plate as well was a bit much. But he knew it was, arguably, as important. “They maintain not only a defensive screen but one that traps a bubble of air. And, somehow, they process it as well. At least as long as they’ll fly. Lady Che-chee sent one out as far as she could. It eventually died. We’re not sure how far out that was since we couldn’t track it. But they do eventually give up. But the good news is, this trip, all the casualties, they just got worth it.”

“You’ve lost me,” Spectre said. “I like the Cheerick and all, but I’m still dreading the board of inquiry on this one.”

“Don’t, sir,” Bill said. “I’m surprised that you, of all people on this boat, can’t see the implications, sir. A vehicle with an onboard weapons system controllable by a pilot that has extra-atmospheric capability and a range of at least two super-Jovian diameters, probably farther. Think about it, sir!”

“Can you say ‘space fighter?’ ” the CO said, finally grinning. “Holy maulk, Astro!”

“Exactly, sir,” Bill replied. “My first thought was about the future. A space navy with dragonflies for fighters flying off of carriers. But they’re even useful for us. Think about a group of flies, if we can figure out how to ‘feed’ them, attached to the Blade. We can use them to recon planets, sure. But even more important, if we get into a fight we can use their shields. Just have them fly between us and fire.”

Spectre suddenly snorted and shook his head.

“Oh, I’m in agreement, Commander Weaver,” the CO said, still shaking his head. “But have you thought about the picture?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Bill said, a bit befuddled.

“Giant, laser-beam-shooting-out-of-their-eyes dragonflies flown by space hamsters,” the CO pointed out. “Can you imagine the manual on that one?”

“Chinchillas, sir,” Bill said with a sigh. He could, indeed, imagine the manuals, and the meetings and the reports and the meetings, and oh, my, GOD the meetings on that one. “Space chinchillas.”

“Well, I’m sure the chief of boat’s seen something weirder,” the CO said with a grin. “But not much.”