Fleetfoot Interstellar: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 1 Read online

  “Drexler, I can’t see you,” Samuel called out.

  “That’s the point! Neither can they!”

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t fucking know! No street signs here!”

  Just then, two Reptilians burst from the underbrush so close they almost stepped on Drex’s back. One of them immediately kicked Drex in the head. Even with the armored EV suit, the blow hurt. Drex saw dancing spots.

  “Look for the two Lizards about to kill me,” Drexler said.

  One of the Lizards took aim, then hesitated. He looked at his companion, then reached down to lift Drexler up by his upper right arm.

  “Ow, ow, ow…” Drexler complained as the Lizard wrenched him up from the ground.

  The Lizard let his rifle hang by its strap and reached up to tap two finger claws against Drex’s helmet as if knocking on a door.

  “OK,” Drex said. “They’re not killing me. I think they want to crack open my shell and eat me.”

  “Hang on,” Samuel said. “You may not be too far from the truth there.”

  Drexler didn’t hear the round that made the head of the Reptile holding him explode. As he fell to the jungle floor again, he realized that, if the helmet weren't on his head, he’d have a face full of gore. The blood and flesh coating the helmet face merely caused the suit to process the world in a false color view. Drex crawled away frantically on all fours mimicking a jungle creature.

  Faced with an existential threat, the other Lizard ran. Another silent round caught him between the shoulder blades. Whatever organs gave him life exploded from his chest, and he fell skidding against the dirt.

  “Nice shooting, Tara,” Samuel said.

  “Only one shot was mine. The other was Huey.”

  Huey said nothing. He and Tara found another firing position.

  “Reggie!” Drexler called out as he took cover behind the biggest tree trunk he could find. “What’s your ETA?”

  “I am here now,” Reggie announced, and the shadow of his shuttle passed over the trees. There was no place for him to land. “You need to get to the top of the ridge so I can pick you up.”

  Dewey snatched Drexler up once again like a predatory bird. The Captain’s empty stomach lurched. Dewey streaked through the forest, back toward the tree where he’d left Gajrup for safety. And then, they were falling.

  Drexler heard the rail rifle sound off with its electrical-arc peal. Whoever shot Dewey was close. Drexler blinked and saw the tip of Dewey’s wing disappear in a cloud of black mist. They were about ten meters up, but Dewey managed to give Drexler a survivable landing. He let Drexler go and tumbled through the air to crash into the thick underbrush.

  “Dewey!” Gajrup screamed into the comm channels. “Dewey got hit! Help””

  A moment later, Gajrup’s round form lurched and stumbled across the forest floor in the direction of Dewey’s fall.”

  “Stay under cover!” Samuel hollered back. “You can’t help him! Huey is on the way!”

  But Gajrup did not, or would not listen. Before he knew it, Drex was on his feet and running in the same direction. He had no idea what he hoped to do. He wasn’t even sure why he was running. It seemed that the greater part of him wanted to hug that forest floor like a long lost lover, far below any rifle sight lines. Instead, he ran toward his crew mates. He began to suspect something was gravely wrong with his mind.

  The roar of ion thrusters tore the jungle apart from the upper canopy down. Massive tree limbs shattered green fragments of leaves fell like confetti. The security transport came down on them like the hammer of judgment. It was right over Gajrup’s head. The rear door angled down, and lines dropped to the jungle floor. Slender forms streaked down the lines like bipedal spiders. They took up position beneath the craft and formed a line with rifles bristling forward and sweeping across the jungle.

  Gajrup was pacing away now. Drexler put on a burst of impossible speed and launched himself at Gajrup’s back just as the security goons opened fire. The helmet display went dark for a terrifying moment. Something violent impacted his suit helmet shoulder hard enough to alter his flight even as his arms wrapped around Gajrup’s ribcage. The two entangled forms fell to the ground. The helmet display lit up once again.

  Drexler was sure he’d been hit, not only because the suit told him so, but because he felt the rounds striking home. Somehow, he was still alive. He suspected it might have been due to the strange, violet glow now emanating from the surface of his suit.

  “Personal energy field,” Drexler said, lying next to Gajrup on the forest floor.

  “What!” Gajrup said, trying to stand. Drexler grabbed his ankle and Gajrup fell again.

  “Stay down!” Drex yelled.

  “Dewey is —”

  “I know that, damn it! Neither one of us can help him if we’re dead. Stay low!”

  In spite of the vulgar cursing of his survival instinct, Drexler assumed a low crouch and led Gajrup into the brush in the direction of Dewey’s crash landing.

  16

  All the news coming in over the planetary network was bad. In the space of a few short days, the former Queen Guardian discovered that the Simians were engaged in warfare across the planet, the Great Scholar betrayed her, and the Planetary Council somehow blamed her for inciting the conflict. Now, all she had left was the parting loyalty of her former hive and her belief.

  In a way, the former Queen was grateful. For the first time in her life, she felt unburdened. Even though evolution itself conspired to define her existence as one mind among millions, she was a sentient being. She was aware of her individual self as a boundary between the hive and whatever forces gave her that awareness. Now, she had the opportunity to explore life as an individual. The sense of pending adventure was a small comfort that didn’t make her any less fearful.

  Fear was another new experience for the former Queen. She stood on the edge of the Foundation Leaf looking down into the successive layers of the canopy that went on for kilometers. A newborn war raged unseen on the jungle floor. Above her, the night sky shone unusually clear, just as it did the night she had her vision. Although her face pointed downward, her heart and mind remained among the stars. Another first in her life was a strong desire to leave her home planet and never return.

  “Queen Mother,” words rendered in soft clicking reached her almost too mute to hear. She turned to the sound.

  Before her stood the leader of the splinter army granted her by the new Queen. He was a large male with an exceedingly polished shell.

  “My handsome son,” she began, “I am no longer the Queen.”

  The soldier cocked his head from side-to-side as he puzzled out her statement. “You will always be my queen, especially now. We are still a hive, although smaller.”

  She turned her face to the stars again. “I am grateful for sons like you more than all the blessings of light above us.” Her words made him stand even taller, and he spread his wings slowly. His stinger wept venom. “But I would ask you to address me by my sacred name, instead.”

  Her name was the sacred prime among her hive, 7547. Hive Children were not accustomed to using their Queen’s proper name. Many of them were not aware of her name at all. “You may call me Fourseven.” And at that moment, she chose a new identity in the diminutive form of that sacred name. Feeling ordinary made her mandibles open in a smile.

  “I will, Fourseven. You honor my brothers by choosing us for this task.”

  “We honor one another. We honor the Sacred Life, especially of our home. This is how we triumph,” Fourseven said, turning back to her son, where she drew strength.

  “Forgive me, Fourseven, but I came to tell you that we have visitors.”

  “Visitors? At a time like this?”

  “Refugees, in fact.” Leader replied. Fourseven grew wary. She waited for him to continue. “It is the Great Scholar and a contingent of Arachnid Guardians.”

  Leader must have smelled the caustic pheromones of anger wafting fro
m her because he took a staggering step back.

  “Do not refer to that termite as ‘Great Scholar’ in my presence again,” Fourseven said, using a form of language that was far from the sacred words of high primes. Leader balked at the vulgar utterance.

  “Fourseven,” Leader began. His voice was firm and respectful. “I beg you forgive me, but your servant strongly advises you to take an audience with the Termite.” It was difficult for Leader to refer to the Great Scholar simply by the name of his species.

  Now Fourseven was trapped by the deference she’d shown Leader. He took full advantage of their new relationship in no time at all. She thought it was a new world indeed when an underling would use such forceful tones with a Queen. But after all, she was simply “Fourseven” now—a war general and not the Queen of a ruling Hive.

  “I accept your advice,” Fourseven replied. Her rigid tones framed in proper language told Leader she was not happy about it.

  The two took wing to the opposite side of the hive to the landing pad. When they arrived, Fourseven immediately noticed the transport. It was shocking to see Arachnid technology so high up in the canopy. The black, bulbous shapes of Arachnid ships always triggered a startle response from Fourseven. Although Arachnids had not preyed on the winged Sentients for many thousands of years, the resemblance of their ships to the arachnids themselves remained startling. She supposed it was some vestigial instinct that brought up such feelings in her.

  She found the old termite priest surrounded by nearly a dozen young acolytes who stood tall, holding a cloth covering between them. The full sun of the upper canopy was difficult for floor-dwellers to deal with. She could only imagine the discomfort of the termites outside the shade.

  The arachnids also appeared uncomfortable. The normally bristly, sparse hairs protruding from their soft shells were matted down with sun protection salve. The former Queen landed a respectful distance from the Arachnids, who stood firm on two sets of rear legs. Their rifles remained at an aggressive angle, not pointed at her, but angled but not quite completely down.

  “They are in a battle stance,” Leader remarked as he walked half a pace behind Fourseven He stood at her right shoulder.

  “It appears so,” she replied in calm tones. When she reached speaking distance, she said: “Welcome to the Upper Canopy, Arachnid soldiers.” She purposely did not address the termites.

  Fourseven registered surprise when a smaller Arachnid female stepped forward. She was unarmed but wore partial battle armor.

  “Thank you, gracious Queen,” the obvious Arachnid leader said formally in the sacred language.

  “Please,” Fourseven said with a low bow. “I am no longer queen.”

  At those words, Arachnids and Termites alike displayed various postures and utterances of shock.

  “How is it that you …” the Arachnid leader began, then trailed off.

  “That I am still alive?” Fourseven replied, with a tilt of her head and a spread of her mandibles that was the Winged version of a wry smile.

  The Arachnid leader offered a similar countenance in return and bowed equally low. “Forgive me, please for such an indelicate question.”

  “Forgiveness is not necessary. Formality in these times is an indulgence. Now is the time to speak plainly.” Fourseven replied, fixing a harsh gaze upon the Scholar Priest.

  The Arachnid leader scurried forward on two legs, said, “I was hoping this would be your disposition. You look prepared to take action. The Arachnid Species of the Continental forest are all behind you. We do not support the censure of the council, as it is clear they do not understand the true nature of this conflict. They believe lies.”

  It was Fourseven’s turn to register shock. Her world had fallen apart so quickly, and hope with it, that it had not occurred to her to hope. Now, hope presented itself in a bald statement of rebellion from the Arachnid Species. A High Arachnid Officer would never utter such words without the full support of her kind. Loyalty to the Insectoid Hierarchy was nearly genetic with the Arachnid kind. On the tail of Fourseven’s hope came another dreadful thought. This rebellion also told of an unprecedented divide within the Hierarchy. But she could not worry about that now. The development meant hope for her mission, and it was that she seized upon.

  “What do you intend?” Fourseven asked, unable to hide the reservations behind those words.

  The Arachnid Response was Immediate. “The Arachnids of the Continental Forest intend to support you fully.”

  “You mean my former hive,” Fourseven said. The big male arachnids exchanged glances and laughed heartily with bodies that bobbed like driftwood on a choppy sea. Fourseven always found the Arachnid sense of humor infectious, but now she couldn’t understand what they found so amusing.

  “No,” the Arachnid leader said bluntly, “We support you. You of the vision.”

  At that moment, the Former Queen Guardian realized how wrong she was. The Great Scholar had not betrayed her after all. How could she have been so wrong? She had also believed the lies transmitted through the fog of war. It was evident that her sources that told her of the Great Scholar’s betrayal were wrong.

  Fourseven fell to her knees. Both sets of upper hands splayed out against the yielding green surface of the Foundation Leaf. The scent of liberated chlorophyll swam in her head as her sharp fingers gouged out handfuls of leaf flesh. She wept freely and bowed her head before all present.

  Leader sprang forward and wrapped his arms around her back protectively. Her wings remained tightly packed beneath their armored covers as she heaved up scalding tears.

  “What’s wrong,” Leader asked with profound concern.

  “Nothing,” Fourseven muttered, “Nothing, anymore. I had doubt, but now it is gone.

  She rose slowly and raised two sets of fists that now held great lumps of green flesh. The leaf blood coursed down her arms in thick rivulets as she raised her fists to the sky.

  “Fly!” Fourseven screamed loud and spread her wings. The Arachnid soldiers raised their rifles and bellowed the word in return. “Fly!” Fourseven screamed again, and the arachnids answered. More Spider Soldiers streamed from the transport and joined the chant.

  Another Arachnid transport appeared above the horizon of the Foundation Leaf and hovered above the landing platform. A moment later, it was joined by two more, then three, and then a dozen more. The sky was soon thick with Army transports, each carrying hundreds of soldiers.

  Leader sprang high into the air with a single, explosive uncoiling of his powerful legs. He was high above the crowd before spreading his wings. He flew off in the direction of the Hive Structure, where he was soon joined by a swarm. He called Fourseven’s new army to assembly as more than a thousand voices chanted “Fly, Fly, Fly!”

  ***

  While the Arachnid’s rallied around the newly minted Insectoid Rebel Leader, the Reptilians struggled with their own military issues.

  “You will explain the reason for exposing our operation,” Alpha Reptile Sslolg hissed over the tangler channel. The distance of 200 light years was meaningless to the instantaneous communication of the quantum entanglement device. To the hapless Leader of Kelgar 7 Station, the holographic image of Alpha Sslolg was as real as life itself, or death.

  “I had reason to believe that this Captain Fleetfoot was a Trade Union spy,” Choss replied, head bowed.

  “You use the past tense. You no longer believe this Captain, a spy?”

  Choss was trapped. He had no choice but to answer, and they both knew the next words meant life or death. “I no longer believe Captain Fleetfoot is a spy,” Choss said. Before Sslolg could reply, Choss blurted, “But I can confirm that spies belong to his crew.”

  Sslolg paused, recalculating. He was prepared to order the immediate execution of Choss once the interrogation was complete. This new information might mean at least a delay in that execution. Killing an errant Alpha before his work was complete would be a wasteful move. Sslolg carefully measured the usefulness of hi
s underling before he replied.

  “Why should I trust your assessment of any matter of importance now,” Sslolg’s blunt words struck out like a whip.

  Emboldened by the stark fact of his impending death, Choss lifted his head and met Sslolg’s eyes. “You have no reason to believe what I say. I can only state what I believe is the truth All the choices are yours.”

  Sslolg suppressed the urge to grin. Finally, the cowering fool showed some spine. He might not have Choss killed just yet.

  “Your time is limited. Tell me what you know.”

  “Captain Drexler and his crew were aided in their escape by at least five Special Operations Soldiers of the BJP Empire. The Nords confirmed this with DNA evidence after one of their numbers was wounded.” Gholss made this last point in the vain hope of demonstrating some level of competence. Sslolg new better. It was the Nords who salvaged any possible hope from Choss’ blunder.

  “There must be more than this,” Sslolg replied impatiently.

  “Yes. These BJP Operatives commandeered the merchant ship and escaped. They somehow managed to use the ship as a weapon to damage the Station and escape.”

  “Damage the station! Why am I just hearing of this now! What of our own merchant ship? Were its weapons not deployed?”

  “Yes, Alpha Fleet Leader. It was. The BJP Operatives somehow destroyed this ship.”

  Sslolg clenched his powerful jaw so tight, his teeth ached. His venom sack burned with rage, bulging visibly in his neck.

  “You fool!” Sslolg screamed so loud that gain filters truncated the audio signal. “Prepare Kelgar Station for my arrival. He slammed his balled fist against the console panel to slice off the transmission. The move gave Choss at least one more week of life before the Alpha Ship arrived.

  Events forced not only Sslolg’s hand, but the hand of the Master Plan itself. He now understood the lack of distinction between the two. He was the plan. Any chance of Reptilian dominance now rested entirely on his broad shoulders. With another angry fist slam on the console, he opened a channel to his First Officer.