PREDATORY PRACTICES
A Tech Infantry Novella
by
Edward Stasheff & Marcus Johnston
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 18: Foreign Exchange
Heth's mind and body seemed to be on autopilot as his crewcats finished their last delivery to the Imperial siege lines and he and Rachel headed back to their cargo shuttle. Somewhere deep down inside, Heth realized as they flew back to Fort Olympus, he'd been hoping for some legitimate pretense to abort the Smythe contract—they couldn't get to Cronos, or arrived too late, or couldn't find a way into the Abbey. But now that they had a way inside the monastery, his last excuse had evaporated, and it was all but certain that Heth and his fellow Miao Mercenaries would be flying right into the heart of a raging battle.
And soon. They had a deadline. The final assault on the Cialt Abbey began at dusk.
From that point on, things began to happen fast—too fast. It helped that Heth was feeling numb. As soon as they touched down at Fort Olympus and the other, larger K'Nes cargo shuttle acting as the temporary command center coordinating the cargo delivery, the mercenaries and crewcats began packing up to head back to the Avarice. A few of Heth's crew would remain on Cronos until dusk, trading on their economic shore leaves or looking for commodities to fill the Avarice's cargo holds for the return voyage—they had had to keep up appearances, after all, to avoid suspicion over why a massive alien freighter was parked in orbit over the planet even after their deliveries had been completed—but the rest of the crew was ordered back to the super-freighter immediately.
Heth meanwhile, headed straight inside the shuttle to where Narrah was waiting, and together they discussed the information scribbled down by the Cialt spy in hushed tones. Inside the Abbey, apparently, a network of tunnels had been carved into the mountain. The Brotherhood's independent water supply came from a mountain stream (or trickle, rather) that flowed into a cave and was later diverted to the Abbey's cistern. The Empire promptly cut off the water supply, and posted a few sentries in the area just in case the Brothers tried to escape the Abbey that way… but it was unlikely. Anyone without diving gear would drown trying, and the water tunnels were too narrow for people to fit through anyway
Too narrow for humans, perhaps, but not for the meter-tall K'Nes. Encased in sealed power armor with its own air supply, they could (hopefully) swim through the tunnels and pipes into the Abbey's cistern without drowning. No one was particularly looking forward it, though—K'Nes generally hated water, preferring to float over it than swim through it.
Narrah silently absorbed the information, formed a business plan, and began growling orders—and just like that, Heth once again went from superior to subordinate. He didn't mind this time, though—he'd much rather defer to the more experienced manager when the plasma began to fly.
Narrah ordered Rachel O'Reilly to head back up to the Avarice with the rest of the civilians and commercial equipment loaded into the larger cargo shuttle. She didn’t object—she was even less of a soldier than Heth was, and she knew it. Just before her shuttle departed for the super-freighter in orbit, though, Rachel pulled Heth aside for a quick word. "Heth, could you do me a personal favor?" Rachel asked, then pushed on before he could reply. "If you manage to get inside the Abbey, could you give something to my parents for me?"
Heth glanced up at her, puzzled. "I could, M. O'Reilly, but… couldn't you just give it to them yourself when we return?"
Rachel's eyes slipped away. "Well, yes, but… I'd prefer they have it sooner rather than later… you know, just in case."
Oh, Heth knew. Just in case we don't return, you mean, he thought. Still, at least she was polite enough not to say it aloud, and he was grateful for that—his nerves were on edge enough as it was. And he saw no harm in obliging her—having a business associate owe him a favor was always a good thing. "I suppose so, Rachel," he finally answered, then quickly added some conditions to their verbal contract. "As long as it's not too large… or volatile… or would compromise my stealth sui—"
Rachel chuckled. "Oh no, Heth, nothing like that." She pulled two folded pieces of paper from a breast pocket and handed them to the little black cat. "Just something small, light, and harmless."
Heth glanced at the papers—one was labeled "Mom," the other "Dad." He unfolded the papers and blinked in surprise at the text inked by hand. "Letters? Wouldn't digital files be more efficient?"
"Probably." Rachel smiled. "But also more likely to be lost, corrupted, hacked, intercepted, edited, era—"
"Yes, yes, I see your point."
"Besides," she added, "paper's more… personal. There're some things I really want to tell them—stuff I should have said a long time ago—that I need them to know. I just…" Her voice trailed off into a sigh, and she shrugged. "You always think you've got all the time in the world… until you don't."
Heth understood that much, at least. That was how he felt during his reproductive partnership with Miu—it had certainly caught him by surprise when she dissolved their merger rather abruptly. "Don't worry, M. O'Reilly. If and when I meet your parents, I'll deliver these to them right away." And with that, Rachel was gone, her cargo shuttle lifting off into the red Cronos sky.
The time had finally come. Heth wasn't ready—would never be ready—but he had a contract to fulfill, and a deal is a deal. The K'Nes hunters rolled eighteen barrels of Mungunwha algae into the last cargo shuttle, strapped in, and took off. Once airborne, the cats silently fished dripping power armor out of the vats they'd used to smuggle the suits down to the planet surface, then pulled out the rifles from their hiding places inside the armor. The suits, their stealth suites successfully disguising themselves as algae, had not been detected when the K'Nes brought the barrels down along with all the other cargo—although, thankfully, the Imperial Army hadn't run anything more than the most basic chem, bio, and rad scans, the routine security measures checking for toxins or explosives.
The mood was grim and apprehensive as the K'Nes hunters dressed for battle. Heth put on his armor slowly and meticulously, double-checking every joint and seal. When he was done, he went to put Rachel's letters and Well's ring-emcie-thingy (he was still too scared of it to put it on his finger) into a spare ammo compartment in his armor… and found something already there. He pulled it out and stared at it. It took him a second to realize what it was… and what it meant.
Narrah outlined the plan to his hunters one final time in a grave voice, reminding them all that it was likely to change on a moment's notice, and they were to follow orders without question or hesitation. After that, the shuttle fell into silence as K'Nes hunters checked and re-checked their railguns, armor, and orders… until there was nothing left to do but wait.
"Heth," M'Rowr whispered next to him, "that the fifth time you've checked your ammo magazine. Trust me, the rounds aren't going anywhere."
"I know…" Heth pushed down on the top shell anyway, just to make sure (again) that it was fully loaded.
"Don't worry, cuz. The first time is always the scariest. They won't be shooting at you anyway—you're a runt, and my fat tail makes a better target!" He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. "Look, Heth," he continued, "if you got any nepeta left, take a little sniff. You gotta relax and…" M'Rowr's voice trailed off as he stared at Heth's ammo. "Hey… those aren't standard rounds! What are they?"
"Impossibarium." Heth slid out the armor-piercing round and held it up, the explosive tip encased not in steel, but a glossy black metal, notched and segmented for fragmentation when the micro-charge within detonated. "I found them in the extra ammo compartment of my power armor," he explained, watching how the shiny black metal caught the light. "I… I think Miu must have left them there for me to find. As a surprise, I guess. She even guessed the right gauge for our rifles," he said, hefting the round in his paw. "Well, MIRADI was a military contractor during the Human Occupation, I suppose…"
"Impossibarium?" M'Rowr let out a low whistle. "Stars above! You know how much that cost her?"
"I know…" Heth stared at an emperor's ransom in ammunition meant to get him home alive. Never in his life had anyone valued him this highly. "I know."
He slid the round back into place—and noticed for the first time something etched into the side of the magazine. He tilted the engraving toward the light so he could read the words:
COME BACK SAFE
Heth's whiskers twitched. He swallowed hard. He felt a hot sting in his eyes and blinked it away. "M'Rowr… if I don't … you know, make it back… tell Miu… tell her…"
"Heth," M'Rowr cut him off. "Trust me… she knows. I'd bet money on that." He hesitated a moment, then added, "And if I don't make it back… just make sure my cubs are taken care of, will ya?"
Heth merely nodded and said nothing, his heart pounding.
"All right, rats," Narrah growled as he hefted his railgun, the wicked blade under the barrel glinting in the red light of the setting sun. "It's time. SWAAAARM-HUP!" The quiet shuttle was instantly filled with the clatter of railguns locking and loading as the K'Nes swarm fell into three cloud formations. M'Rowr supervised one cloud, his mate Surra the second, and Narrah, of course, managed the third. Heth was in Narrah's cloud—and wasn't sure if that was a privilege or a punishment. Was Narrah keeping an eye on his most worthless hunter, or just trying to keep his employer alive long enough to get paid?
"Suits on full stealth mode!" Narrah continued. "Inflate, helium only. Hunter Heth! You inflate internally—but at the first sign of enemy contact, you deflate and stay down!" he snarled at Heth. "If a plasma bolt breaches your suit when you've got a belly full of hydrogen, you'll go out in a blaze of glory—literally!"
Heth's power armor alone lacked a helium tank. He had sacrificed it for the ability to disguise it as a business suit—a trade-off which, Heth thought as he prepared for battle, was utterly absurd. What was I thinking?
Narrah turned back to the other hunters. "Cronos is approximately three times the gravity of Purrfang, and the air is thin, cold, and dry. That'll limit our buoyancy—figure maybe twelve meters, tops. Adjust your sights and suits accordingly. Now get ready to fly on my word."
Narrah paused for a moment, looking each of his hunters in the eye before continuing in his deep, gravelly voice. "Yes. We are defending humans. We are fighting for the Federation. And I don't care—not as long as I get to kill some apes, any apes. You know why? Because I am not a cat. I do not chase butterflies or balls of string or play with my tail. I do not sit in laps and purr and wait to be fed. That's what the humans think we are, you know—cats. Silly little useless pets. Well, I am NOT a pet—I am a predator, a hunter...a K'Nes. And when the scat hits the fan on Cronos, we are going to teach these apes a lesson. The humans who watch us hunt will remember, and the humans whose friends we eviscerate will never forget. We will remind these hairless apes of something that they seem to have forgotten: that cats have both fangs and claws—and they're sharp! RROAH!!"
On cue, the hunters roared—literally. In the confined space of the shuttle, it was a deafening and terrifying sound. And somewhere deep inside Heth, something stirred in his blood.
Far away from the Cialt Abbey, a cargo shuttle set down at the foot of the mountains. On the off chance anyone was watching and wondering why a K'Nes ship was landing and opening its loading bay, the pilot and copilot provided a plausible explanation—and distraction. They hopped out, dug in the sandy soil, and… well, did what cats do in the sand. By the time they climbed back inside the shuttle, closed the bay, and took off, eighteen camouflaged cats had flown of out the loading bay and up into the sky.
The hunters moved silently in full stealth mode. Their camouflaged nanotech armor was the same color as the Cronos sky: blood red—their sun was a red star at sunset. Once the K'Nes were high enough, the hunters were all but invisible, just blurs against the background. Besides, humans were, at heart, a ground-based species—the K'Nes had learned long ago just how rarely they actually looked up.
Climbing to the spring in the mountains would have taken humans hours or days—but K'Nes could fly. Floating above the terrain, assisted by the wind and occasionally their suit thrusters, the swarm reached its goal quickly. As they approached, Narrah called a halt and sent scouts ahead to recon the area, then led the swarm slowly and cautiously to the location.
A tiny mountain spring snaked through a shallow, narrow valley and trickled into a cave at the far end—or it would have, if it hadn’t been damned off by a sandbag barricade. Instead, the water formed a small pool, where an extremely bored Imperial trooper lazily pumped the water into containers—presumably to supply the Imperial Army besieging the Abbey.
Heth's inner helmet displays zoomed in on the trooper. He heard Narrah's voice over his suit's comlink. "He's armored… but just Delta armor, not power armor… probably Light Infantry," the old hunter said, studying the soldier. "Just one guard? Bah! I don't believe it!" he growled to himself. "Do they think I was suckled yesterday?"
Heth looked at Narrah, confused. "What do you mean?"
"If I were guarding this perimeter, I'd have one trooper as bait to draw attention and fire," the veteran hunter explained, "then have snipers in place to take out any hostiles who approached. Probably set them up… oh…" He pointed a claw. "There and there."
Heth felt his fur bristle slightly in fear. That thought would never have occurred to him.
Narrah took his time, sending out scouts to locate the snipers, then slowly and stealthily moving his hunters into position to take out the enemy as dusk faded into twilight. Narrah gave his hunters a final reminder to set their railguns to sub-sonic velocity—they didn't want any sonic booms giving away what was happening up here in the mountains—and gave the word to fire.
A few strangled cries echoed through the valley. The armored trooper manning the pump collapsed, perforated by railgun rounds. He rolled over, screaming, crawling through his own blood toward his forgotten plasma rifle, before a second railgun volley stilled his body forever.
Then silence.
Heth made a mental note to give Narrah a performance bonus when this was all over.
Then, drifting through the darkness, they heard the rumble of explosives in the distance. The final assault on the Cialt Abbey had begun. Their extraction contract was running out of time.
"Sire!" Surra called out over the comlink. "We've got power signatures bouncing this way from the siege lines! ETA thirty minutes!"
"Blast!" Narrah roared. "One of the snipers must have sent out a distress call! Hunters! Get in that cave mouth NOW!" As the hunters zoomed toward it, Narrah paused long enough to toss a plasma grenade at the sandbag dam, releasing the flood. "Just follow the water!" Narrah ordered. "It'll lead us to the cistern!"
And so it did. Finding their way through the cave tunnels was surprisingly easy. They did indeed get very narrow at times, but cats have a natural talent for squeezing through impossibly small spaces. Well, except for M'Rowr. His tubby tummy got him stuck a few times, but some pushing and pulling from his fellow hunters (and a tongue-lashing from Narrah) got him moving again. Eventually the natural water-carved tunnels gave way to artificial ones carved from the rock—and then they found the Abbey cistern. Or, rather, fell into it with a splash.
It was an enormous tank, but only about a fifth full—the siege had taken its toll. The K'Nes inflated, shaking the water off them vigorously and sending drops flying everywhere, then floated toward a hatch at the top of the water tank. It wasn't locked, exactly, but latched from the outside—still, it only took M'Rowr a few minutes to open it somehow. Heth once again worried about the security of his private safe up on the Avarice.
"Hunter Heth!" Narrah hissed. "You go through first."
"M-me?" Heth stammered.
"And give me your rifle—they're less likely to shoot if you're unarmed."
"But… why me?"
"BECAUSE THOSE ARE YOUR ORDERS, HUNTER!" Narrah roared. "And because you're the single point of contact for this transaction, remember?" Narrah ticked off more reasons on his claws. "You're the only K'Nes that met the Cialt spy behind the Imperial siege lines, you've got his message for the other Brothers on your datapad, and you're the only one who can disguise his armor as human clothing. Now GO!"
Heth swallowed hard, but obediently handed his rifle over to Narrah. "Suit, human!" he hissed, and felt his power armor's nanobot surface change shape as he floated over to the open hatch.
"We'll follow out—cloaked, of course," Narrah said. "If you encounter any humans, draw their attention away from this tank. Don't worry—you're armored, and we're here to cover you if the humans engage you."
Heth nodded. Heart hammering in his chest, he floated through the hatch, deflated on top of the tank, and looked around. He was in some sort of cavernous room—possibly a natural cave—and it was pitch black, illuminated only by tiny glowing lights on various pieces of machinery scattered throughout the area. Cats have good night vision, though—especially K'Nes clans who, like the Miao, came from the dark side of Purrfang. It appeared to be a utility room—Heth could make out pumps, boilers, and generators, pipes and wires running every which way.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Heth sprang down to the floor and walked boldly down the center of the room. "Hello? Gainful day? Is anyone here?"
His only answer was the whine of a plasma revolver charging in the darkness. He froze.
"Don't move!" ordered a gruff voice behind Heth. "Hands in the air, NOW!" Heth did as he was told. A second later a flashlight lit up behind him.
"Holy crap, Chin—it's just a child!" said a second, high-pitched voice. It took Heth a second to realize they were being confused by his height (or lack thereof).
"Kid," said the first voice, exasperated, "you picked the wrong time and place to sneak in and play soldier! Alright, Bob, you can hit the lights. And you—turn around, nice 'n slow!" Heth was momentarily blinded as overhead fluorescent lights lit up the cave. He obediently turned around and got his first look at his captors.
The gruff voice belonged to a heavyset middle-aged human in an old tattered Earth Fleet uniform with frizzy red hair fading to gray and narrow eyes, the right one obviously cybernetic. He held an enormous plasma revolver in a prosthetic left hand. Heth recognized him instantly from the Fleet profile Gergenstein had given him—Xinjao O'Reilly, the Demon of Phoenix.
The squeaky voice—Bob, presumably—belonged to a scrawny twenty-something who looked like he couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag. He must be a Cialt Brother—a cross hung from his neck, and he wore a brown robe under a vest covered in bulging pockets above a massive tool belt around his waist. He held a plasma rifle in trembling hands, staring in slack-jawed amazement at Heth, looking like he would faint from fright.
"Holy crap! That's not a kid, that's a cat!... right? I mean, I'm not tripping, right? You're seeing this too?"
"I'm a K'Nes, actually," Heth clarified, forcing himself to sound calm and casual.
"What the hell is it doing here, Chin?" Bob said, tense and anxious. "How did it get in?"
"Calm down, Bob!" O'Reilly snapped. "How did you get in here, cat?"
"Through the water pipes," Heth answered. "We removed the dam, by the way, and the tank is refilling as we speak. You might want to filter it, though—there's quite a bit of sand, and… er, plasma grenade shrapnel."
"You were poisoning the well?!" the scrawny monk squeaked, sounding on the verge of panic. "Oh God, he did! He poisoned it! We're out of water! Oh dear God!"
"I said calm down, Bob!" O'Reilly snapped. "Now what are you doing here, cat?"
"Actually, Chairman Smythe hired me to rescue you—his mother, the Brothers, and the Resistance."
For a moment there was only shocked silence. Then O'Reilly burst out laughing. "You? Rescue us? What, you got a couple nukes shoved down your pants or something?" The laugh faded to a wheezing cough.
"No," Heth snapped. "A ship in orbit with a transit antenna and a gravity drive. We can teleport you all out of here and cross into hyperspace before the Empire even realizes what's happened."
The laughing abruptly stopped. "And you expect me to believe this crap?" O'Reilly demanded, suspicious.
"Not really, no," Heth answered. "That's why we sent word that we were coming through the Cialt's spy in the Imperial ranks. A mage and a doctor, I believe… I take his message didn't get through?"
"We haven't had any communication from outside the Abbey in weeks," O'Reilly answered firmly.
"Which is why I took the precaution of having your spy write a message explaining my—"
"Which could easily be forged," O'Reilly cut him off. "What, you think I'm stupid or something?"
Heth hesitated, not sure how to convince them he was on their side. Then he remembered the technique Rachel had used. "I bet the Ashdown Werecats will beat the New Tokyo Managers this season ten to seven."
"Great! Now we gotta change the passcode, too!" O'Reilly exclaimed. "What, did your Imp buddies torture it outta somebody? Who told you that, cat? Tell me!"
"Why, my business associate on New Israel," Heth replied—and saw an opportunity. "Rachel O'Reilly."
The fat man's face contorted in fear and fury. He stepped forward and rammed the revolver at Heth's nose. "What the HELL have you done with my daughter, fundie?!?"
"Nothing, I assure you! She's safe and sound aboard my ship!" Heth cocked his head. "When she found out her parents were trapped in the Abbey, we couldn't stop her from coming—and believe me, we tried! She's worried to death, you know. And… she gave me letters to deliver to you and her mother. Would you like to read it?"
Fierce emotions battled across O'Reilly's face. Caution was still there—but fading fast. "Yeah… I would."
Heth reached (slowly) into his ammo pouch—which had morphed into the breast pocket of his blazer (Sky Father above, Miu was good!)—and pulled out the letters. He held out the one labeled "Dad."
O'Reilly snatched it from Heth's paw, opening it with his free hand, the other keeping his pistol trained on the alien. Xinjao glanced at the letter. "Looks like her handwriting, alright…" his voice trailed off as he scanned the lines of inked words… and slowly lowered his gun. He turned away as he flipped the page over to read the other side, absorbed in the letter. Silence stretched out. O'Reilly's shoulders began to tremble. He sniffed.
"Chin…" the scrawny monk said, laying a timid hand on the older man's shoulder. "Chin, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," O'Reilly said, turning back to them as he quickly wiped the back of his hand under his good eye. "She just… Rachel hasn't said stuff like this since… well, since she was a little girl. I was away a lot… in the Fleet, y'know?... and we didn’t… part on the best of terms…" He took a deep breath, composing himself as he holstered his revolver. He turned to Heth. "So, you must be…" he glanced at the letter, "… Miao, right?"
"That's my clan name. My personal name is Heth."
"I'm Robert Robertson," the scrawny monk said. "Just call me Brother Bob. Everyone else does."
Heth cowered politely (which only seemed to confuse the puny human).
O'Reilly sighed and said, "Alright, Heth, what's the plan?"
"My hunters and I cover your withdrawal through th—"
"Your hunters?" O'Reilly repeated, looking around. "What hunters? I don't see anybody…"
"Well, they're cloaked, of course," Heth replied. "Narrah! I think it's safe to show ourselves now."
Nothing happened. O'Reilly turned his head slowly back and forth, his cybernetic eye flashing in different colors as he scanned the room in different spectrums and frequencies. "Nope. Still not seeing anybody."
"Um… M. O'Reilly?" Heth raised a claw and pointed upward. Both humans tilted there heads up… and finally saw almost a score of armored cats hiding in the wires and behind pipes, railguns pointed straight at the men.
"Holy crap!" Brother Bob whispered, turning even more pale (if that were possible).
"Oh, and if you'll excuse me for a moment…" Heth said, then cleared his throat. "Suit, armor!" His human business suit shifted back into sleek black K'Nes power armor. O'Reilly started in delighted amazement while Bob looked like he might pass out from shock.
Narrah jumped down to the floor. He handed Heth his rifle back, then snapped a salute to O'Reilly with his tail. "Sire!"
O'Reilly's face broke into a vicious grin. "Oh, yeah…" He reached up and tapped his earpiece. "Leisa. Leisa! Yeah, it's Chin. Look, honey, I need you to round up the Governor and the Reverend Father for a meeting, we got—" Xinjao was silent a moment, listening, then rolled his eyes. "Yes, dear, I know there's a war on. But this is important! The cavalry just arrived!... sort of. Look, we thought this was a Last Stand, but it might just be a Great Escape instead!" He paused again, then shook his head in exasperation. "Yes, Leisa, I know Steve McQueen was better in—look, can we talk about this later? Discom." He glanced at the cats. "Sorry. That was my wife. Look, do me a favor and don't tell her a bunch of cats just got the drop on me—I'd never hear the end of it! If you're married, I'm sure you understand." O'Reilly turned to Brother Bob. "Alright, Bob, let's move out."
"Go?" The monk looked panicked—which, Heth thought, might be a perpetual state of existence for him. "But… what about the repairs, Chin?" He gestured to one of the big generators across the room, and for the first time Heth noticed the tools and machine parts spread around it.
Well, that explains how they found me so quickly, Heth thought. They must have been here working on it when they heard us splash down into the water tank… and probably Narrah yelling at me, too.
"Leave it, Bob," O'Reilly answered. "I don't think we're gonna need it anymore… one way or the other."
The K'Nes hunters swarmed up behind Narrah (who, thankfully, didn't insist Heth return to formation) as Bob and O'Reilly led them through the tunnels and caverns. Xinjao turned to Heth as they moved.
"So… transit antenna, huh?" When Heth nodded, O'Reilly sighed and shook his head. "Well, hell, if it were that easy, we would have been out of here long ago! I hope you got a backup plan."
"Of course." Heth nodded. He struggled to keep his face neutral, but thought, what the scat do I do now?
