SIX MONTHS AFTER CASE OMAHA TERRA LOCAL TIME
ONE MONTH EXTERNAL TIME
Matron Sangbre had been a lot of things during her long life. Ship captain, mother, life-mate, student, beloved child, jump drive engineering specialist, castaway.
Of all of them, being a mother and life-mate had been her favorite.
But her children had grown. Her youngest daughter, Nakteti, had surpassed everything Sangbre had ever wanted for her.
And feared for her.
Matron Sangbre often felt that she had risen to every challenge in her long life. Her oldest son dying as a rifleman in the Unified Military Forces putting down a rebellion. Her oldest daughter becoming a medical officer on a trading ship that vanished. Moving with her husband to the capital world of the Unified Council.
When her husband had vanished one foggy evening, she thought her world had come to an end.
She still remembered that night.
Sangbre and her husband, a successful business magnate, had met friends for dinner at a posh upscale dining facility. The conversation had turned to the horror flooding from Gal-Net. How the Precursors had returned, in more than the one or two of history, and had begun to slaughter the people of the Unified Civilized Species and broadcast the slaughter on Gal-Net.
A friend had asked Sangbre if she knew what had become of Nakteti.
Sangbre had shaken her head and quietly told her friend that she feared the worst. That Nakteti's ship and the colony she was part of had been destroyed by the Precursors.
She had felt ill, the dinner not agreeing with her, and gone home early, taking a robotic taxi.
Her husband had never arrived.
Their limousine had been found, empty, apparently abandoned, in a parking garage.
One thing Sanbgre had always prided herself on was her instincts.
Her instincts told her to run.
She had purchased tickets home, had let the reason be known that she had to return to inter her child, the replacement for her lost body. She had managed to buy the tickets and leave quickly.
The friends she had been speaking with vanished while she had been in transit.
She had rejoiced to discover her daughter had survived. It had been before The War, and she had quickly traveled to TerraSol to meet up with her daughter and the survivors of the It Tastes Sweet that had survived the brutal Precursor attack.
She had thought that there would be little more excitement in her life, that it would be quiet and calm as she aged.
Instead, four things had happened.
First, she had hired the human junker, Max-o-Millions, to retrieve biosamples and personal effects from Tnvaru Prime.
Second: Tnvaru Prime had been attacked by Precursors in such numbers that the junkers were forced to flee.
Third: Max-o-Millions had returned with his friends, bringing literally hundreds of thousands of refugees that her daughter, Nakteti, had arranged safe lodging for.
Fourth: While Matron Sangbre had been visiting where the refugees would be housed, the Lanaktallan had invaded the Terra-Sol System.
One thing chained to the next.
And Sangbre found herself deep beneath the surface of TerraSol, holding the four hands of a nervous Lanaktallan teenage filly with her own four hands. The filly was afraid.
Not because of the invasion. No, the TerraSol Defense Forces had crushed the invasion like a groundcar running over a discarded fast food container.
She was afraid because the 'Sixth Battle of Fortress Sol' was over.
"What will they do with us?" the filly, one Yu'ungmo'o, asked quietly, her jaw tendrils trembling with fear. "What is waiting for us upon the surface of this world now that the Great Herd has attacked?"
She looked around, her eyes rolling.
"Will they hate us? Will they destroy us as they must have destroyed the Great Herd? Will they kill me? Kill my siblings?" she began to sob. "I'm so afraid."
Sangbre squeezed the Lanaktallan filly's hands gently. "Do your fear the Qazaq of Russiya? The Pontiac Cossacks, the Tuvan Warsteel Horde, our hosts?"
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The filly shook her head. "No. They are a kind people, even if they are often melancholy. I was afraid at first, but they have only been kind to my siblings and I."
Sangbre nodded. "They are a fearsome people, as are all Terrans, but you have seen their kindness."
Again, the filly nodded. "Yes, Matron Sangbre," she said softly. Her trembling was easing.
"Do you think that our hosts would allow anyone to hurt you after they have sworn, upon blood, warsteel, vodka, and munitions, to keep you safe?" Sangbre asked.
The filly shook her head. "They are a martial people, Matron," she leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, "One of the Daughters of Warsteel taught me to fire a weapon."
Sangbre smiled and nodded. "You see. They showed you how to defend yourself, defend your siblings. They will let no harm come to you."
The filly trembled slightly, looking up. "Can I stay here? In this place of beauty? Do I have to go to the surface?"
Sangbre nodded when the filly looked down. "My dear, you belong in the sunshine. To gallop and canter upon the grassy steppes of the Wild Fields, to take your siblings to see the Midnight Sea," Sangbre said. "This place is not for one such as you, my lovely."
"But I like it here," the filly said. She shuddered. "I do not have nightmares the Precursors have come to kill my siblings. I do not fear the great warsteel Cossacks," she leaned down and whispered again. "My sister sings to them, has joined one of the choruses."
Sangbre sighed internally. "Your sister, have you asked her if she wants to see the sun again?"
The filly sighed. "Yes. She says there are Ancient Ones that must be sung to, that her and the rest of the Kopytnyy Khor must lull to sleep with hymns and carols."
"Your hosts need your sister's voice to show them the way to the Midnight Sea so that they can wade into the waters," Sangbre said softly. "She will need your strength to lean upon. The same strength you showed during your travel here, during the fighting."
Yu'ungmo'o nodded, her face brightening. "I can help her. Help all of the Kopytnyy Khor in their duties."
Sangbre smiled, squeezing the filly's hands again. "There you go, sweetling."
"Thank you, Matron," the filly said. She leaned down and hugged Sangbre before turning and trotting away.
Sangbre picked up her gripping stick and leaned on it, slowly exhaling.
"Are you all right?" Captain Manners asked, stepping out of the shadows, his adaptive camouflage having kept him hidden.
"She has such a long life ahead of her," Sangbre said. "She shines so brightly to my eyes."
Captain Manners nodded, knowing that she referred to her new eyes. Matron Sangbre had entered the Cathedral of Endless Night, where the Daughters of Chrome Baba-Yaga dwelled. When she had exited, Captain Manners had seen that the experience had left marks on the Tnvaru matron.
She had warsteel eyes now, matte black featureless orbs surrounded by white fur. A red streak went from the tip of her nose, up her face, between her eyes, up between her ears, then all the way down her back to vanish at the top of her buttocks.
She had also placed her hand, the palm gashed and bleeding, against the salt crystal encrusted skull of a long dead human, one of the Childless Ones.
Captain Manners had done the same.
Together, Captain Manners and Matron Sangbre had carefully removed the skulls they had touched from the elevator wall and taken them to be interred in one of the cathedrals. Captain Manners had never considered himself to be a superstitious man, but the ritualistic actions had been seared into his memory.
"Are you all right, Matron?" Captain Manners repeated.
Sangbre nodded slowly, breathing slowly and heavily. "I am."
After a moment she passed her right catching hand over her face, taking a moment before opening her eyes.
"Who's next?" she asked.
Captain Manners checked his datalink. "Va'anitmu'u. A Lanaktallan female with four calves. Two colts, two fillies. The Caverns of the Blessed Trumpet."
Sangbre began moving toward the door, the sparkling field over it keeping in breathable air. She lifted her breathing mask, fitting it over her nose. "What is her concerns?"
Captain Manners followed her, not bothering with the mask. He had needed it at first, but as of recent events he no longer needed to worry about the toxic air. "She refuses to leave the side of the wounded of the Tuvan Warsteel Horde. She cares for them, but knows that her calves need to go topside."
"She is torn by duty," Matron Sangbre said softly. "A feeling I am familiar with."
Captain Manners just nodded.
The mare stated her case to Sangbre softly, eloquently. She had been the wife of a high ranking Most High and felt responsibility keenly. While before she was only interested in parties, in galas, in social events, she had left it all behind. Now she was concerned with the pain and suffering of others and sought to ease their discomfort.
Sangbre closed her eyes then opened them slowly. She stared at the Lanaktallan female for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I understand," was all she said.
Once she had left the chamber, Captain Manners following, she made a slow wandering path to the living quarters.
"So, I take it, her destiny?" Captain Manners asked.
Sangbre nodded slowly. "It is difficult to explain."
The matron's sister was waiting. When Sangbre explained what the mare had said, she simply nodded.
"My sister has been changed, down here, as have we all," the mare said quietly.
Captain Manners followed the Tnvaru matron as she slowly made her way to one of the elevators. They were both silent as the elevator slowly rose.
"I dream of my daughter," Matron Sangbre said softly.
Captain Manners stood quietly.
"I see her dancing among the stars, a gleaming trail behind her, my people cautiously, nervously following her. She often carries a flaming chainsword in one hand and an astrogation log in the other," Matron Sangbre said. "A part of me cannot believe I gave birth to and nursed her."
Matron Sangbre sighed and leaned on her gripping stick. "She seems so much larger than life," she said quietly. "She will be a legend, a mythical being who may or may not have existed, to those who come after."
Captain Manners nodded.
They were silent the rest of the ride.
As the elevator doors opened Matron Sangbre looked up at Captain Manners.
"Let's go see if D-Mee3 has anything to drink," she smiled.
She stepped out into the warm sunlight.
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
You're really going to let them stay?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TERRASOL
The Tuvan Warsteel Horde gave them succor. Several of them have learned salt carving, some of them have joined the choruses, others care for the cyborgs.
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
Still, they attacked your world.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
TERRASOL
Not those ones. They were refugees from a Precursor attack that annihilated an entire world.
Besides, do you want to tell one of the Warsteel Cossack Hordes that they have to break their vows of blood and honor?
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
Uh... no thank you.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS---
RIGELLIAN SAURIAN COMPACT
Good plan.