The Privateer

Yvian stood on the bridge of the Priderender. The blue light of the Gate effect washed in through the viewports of the Vrrl Pridewing class destroyer. Row upon row of consoles stretched before her in a pyramid formation. Only a few of them were occupied. The Vrrl had wasted no time jury rigging the ship to operate without computers. A good chunk of the ship's crew were outside, clinging to the hull as they readied optics and took manual control of the turrets. The rest were scattered throughout the interior, monitoring ship systems with the most primitive means they could devise.

Though she could not see them out of the viewports, Yvian knew another twenty thousand capital ships followed in the Priderender's wake. Battlecruisers, mostly, with a thousand destroyers and twice that number of carriers filled to the brim with Hissith and Clawwing fighters. Yvian had seen larger fleets, but she still thought it might be overkill for what she planned to do.

"Exiting the Gate effect," one of the crewman reported. The voice crackled out of one of the short wave radios strapped to Yvian's helmet. The primitive radios had been mass produced as quickly as the Vrrl could cobble them together. They were ugly, and made everyone wearing them look ridiculous, but they were also the best that could be managed in such a short time. Each ship had their own radio channel, with a second set of radios dedicated to in fleet communications. "Computer systems are down."

"As expected." Warmaster Skrell Scathach, First Hsst of the Priderender, stood on a raised triangular dais just behind the back row of consoles. The Warmaster was wearing voidarmor, black with a pattern of crimson stripes. Hand clasped behind his back, he radiated power and lethal intent. Even the two radios strapped to the side of his helmet failed to make him less intimidating. The man had never failed to be polite. Urbane, even. Yvian was not fooled. The Warmaster was easily the second most dangerous man she'd ever met. "Deploy fighters. Set a course for the edge of the Gate. Maximum acceleration."

Yvian allowed herself a small sigh of relief. The anti-tech field was still active. The Crystal Mother was still in the sector. She'd worried the humans would have taken it away, somehow. Or worse, destroyed it. An irrational fear, now that she thought about it. If they'd taken the Crystal Mother, the Xill would have destroyed the Gate that led here. The system was overrun with Vore nanomachines, and the Mother was the only thing keeping them in check.

The Priderender turned, moving far too quickly and gracefully for a ship of its size. The blue light of the Jumpgate streamed through the viewports on the left side of the bridge. Yvian had used Gates so often over the last few years that the novelty had worn off, but this time she was reminded just how big the things were. The rippling lights stretched over two thousand kilometers, hemmed in by a ring of unknown metal nearly thirteen kilometers thick.

Silence reigned for several minutes. Yvian resisted the urge to fidget. Now was the dangerous part. If the humans were smart, and she knew they were, they'd have at least one ship parked inside the Crystal Mother. The Mother's anti-tech field didn't extend to it's interior, and they'd have full access to sensors. They would know the Vrrl were coming. They would call for reinforcements.

At any moment, a fleet of Federation vessels could come tearing out the Gate. The Vrrl fleet had been hastily retrofitted, but the humans had had more time to prepare. Her hope was that their reaction force was too small to face twenty thousand Vrrl. After all, who could predict she'd ask the monsters for help? Or that they would agree in such an overwhelming fashion?

Reba. Maybe. That was the problem with Synthetic Intelligence. The smartest of them were adept at Predictive Analysis. They could calculate the variables, predict the actions of an insane number of people with a terrifying degree of accuracy. Mims had been careful. They all had. Odds were good the SI didn't know anything about New Pixa's defenses, the crystal cities, or how comfortable the crew had gotten with their man-eating allies. Without that data, Reba could never predict the play Yvian was making. At least, that was the hope.

The problem was, she still hadn't heard from Exodus the Genocide. Kilroy had been trying to contact the Xill Representative right up until the moment they jumped to this sector. The Genocide had a soft spot for the Peacekeepers. If he wasn't answering, it was because he couldn't.

Yvian had been to the Hub that housed the Genocide. It was deep in Xill space. Heavily defended. More than that, Exodus had access to the Nexus. Even if the Hub was attacked, he could transfer himself out. There were precious few things that could take the SI out of commission. The most likely of those things were the other Xill.

Compounding Yvian's anxiety was the fact that the Xill's protection had been withdrawn. Reba wouldn't dare try the things she'd been doing if the Genocide's ultimatum was still in effect. She was petty, and maybe evil, but she loved her humans. She wouldn't risk their extinction just for revenge, especially since the Xill would kill her, too. Best case scenario, the Xill sidelined Exodus somehow and were allowing Reba to make her play. Worst case, they were helping. The Xill knew everything about New Pixa. If they'd shared that information with the SI that secretly ruled the humans, then Reba knew exactly what Yvian was doing. If that was the case, she was walking into a trap, and the Pixen Technocracy was doomed.

Or it could be something else, entirely. Something she'd never guess. Yvian shuddered. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been blindsided by a new player. She understood now why Captain Mims was so paranoid all the time. You never knew when someone was out to get you. You were never safe, and you never knew what The Crunch was going on.

"Warmaster," Yvian's radio crackled. "The Gate Ring is in sight."

"Very well." Warmaster Scathach gave the order. "All fighter class ships, continue to watch our flank. All battle class ships, open fire. Destroy the Gate."

Through the viewports, Yvian saw a maelstrom of plasma. By necessity, the Vrrl fleet was grouped close together, each ship a mere few hundred meters from the others. Heavily armed as they were, Yvian guessed there were close to a million heavy turrets blasting away. Red and yellow and violet, in compact balls and long lances, the weapons of the Starfang Empire tore into the Gate.

The Jumpgates were a marvel of technology, far above anything the Confederation or the humans or even the Xill could replicate. The material that comprised them defied all attempts to scan or quantify. They were tougher than steel, though not as durable as tungsten. As long as the ring that made up the Gate wasn't cut through completely, it would repair itself in a matter of hours. This was fortunate, because dead Gates could not be repaired. They were also impossible to replicate or replace. That why any fool caught tampering with one would be swarmed by every other ship in the sector.

As impressive as the Vrrl fleet's firepower was, it still took a full two minutes to cut through the Gate. Then another minute, as the turrets swiveled back and forth, trying to find and destroy the final strands holding the ring together. Finally, the blue light of the Gate Effect vanished. The Gate was dead.

"Ring has been severed," the radio reported. "Jumpgate destroyed."

"Very well," said the Warmaster. "Navigation teams, locate and chart a course to the planet. All fighters, begin escort protocols. We will be relying on you to sniff out any threats before they reach the fleet. We move as soon as our course has been charted."

Finding the planet and charting a course didn't take very long. Ten minutes, maybe. As a bonus, the navigation team calculated the distance, allowing the fleet to accelerate and decelerate at maximum speed. The first time she'd come here, it had taken two days. This time they would reach the vore planet in just under fifteen hours. Add another few hours to locate the derelict Crystal Mother, and the whole operation could be complete in less than a day.

It was a good thing, too. Yvian was stuck in her voidarmor. The Priderender's artificial gravity had been lowered to a comfortable level for pixens, but the ship had been decompressed. It was a standard tactic when dealing with humans. Their MAC drivers could pass through shields, and the rounds they fired would create devastating shockwaves if they passed through a section with air. The anti-tech field also rendered most of her suit's functions inoperable. Yvian wouldn't die without them, but their lack was going to make this trip... uncomfortable.

The Priderender had only been underway for a few minutes when a massive armored paw clamped down on Yvian's shoulder. She jumped, turning to see Warmaster Scathach. His lower hand was held out towards her. There was a small round object in it. Yvian took it.

The object appeared to be another radio. Different from the others. The Warmaster held up another one just like it, then placed it on top of his helmet. Yvian followed copied him, and the radio fixed itself in place. The Vrrl's rumbling voice vibrated through her helmet. "Pixen. I have been meaning to speak with you."

"Me?" Yvian stared at the man. Mims, Lissa, and Scarrend were on the raised platform as well, but a quick glance confirmed they didn't have the little round radio the Warmaster had given her. "Why me?"

The armored hulk clasped all four arms behind his back before he answered. "Two months ago, the Scargiver refused to step foot on this ship without a fission bomb. Now he has placed not only himself, but the future of your entire species within our power."

"Yeah?" Captain Mims, the Scargiver in question, tilted his head at Yvian. She gave him a shrug.

"It was your doing," Scathach deduced. "Wasn't it?"

Yvian frowned. She hadn't considered the human's distrust when she came up with the idea. Nor had he objected. She'd placed her trust in the Vrrl, and everyone else followed along. But why, though? Was it because of Scarrend? Or did Mims just think it was worth the risk? The Warmaster was looking at her. She'd been silent too long. "Um.." Crunch, this man was intimidating. He wasn't trying to be. If anything, he was going out of his way to be nonthreatening. "I... think so?"

The Warmaster gave an amused grunt, taking a small step away from Yvian. He still loomed. He was too big not to. But the motion reassured Yvian. "You have softened him. You and your sister."

"Softened?" Yvian shot another glance at the human. Mims was no longer paying her any attention. He and Lissa were holding hands, helmets pressed together as they had a private conversation of their own. "Mims isn't soft."

"I have given this human considerable study," Scathach reminded her. "I know his history, from his military career before Aldara to his time in the Confederation. By all accounts, he is a creature of pure predation. Cold, cunning, and ruthless in ways that would give my best Hunters pause. The Mark Mims I learned of would never have removed his helmet just to reassure a frightened Brilend. He certainly wouldn't have surrendered his ships and his assets for the benefit of a pair of penniless refugees."

"Refu..." He meant Lissa and Yvian. "Oh." Yvian was frowning again. "Is that a bad thing? Being softer?"

"I do not know." A note of concern entered his voice. "I suppose time will tell." He changed the subject. "But the Scargiver is not why I am speaking with you."

"Ok." Yvian swallowed. "Then why are you speaking to me?"

"Because you fascinate me, pixen." The Warmaster continued to stare straight ahead, his body language giving no indication of the fervor in his voice. "Because you are a mystery I must solve."

He couldn't mean... "I prefer the company of woman," she told him.

The Warmaster snorted. "The Vrrl do not mate outside our species, pixen." He gave a thoughtful hmm. "I see Scarrend did not exaggerate. You really are that socially inept."

"Yeah." Yvian started to shrug, then paused. "Wait. Scarrend's been talking about me?"

"Of course he has." Scathach broke his stoic poise to regard the pixen. "He has been giving detailed reports on your entire crew." He tilted his head. "Did he not tell you?"

"That he's a spy?" Yvian cocked her head. "I thought he was here to learn martial arts."

"Not just martial arts," the Vrrl corrected. "Scarrend has been instructed to learn everything he can from all of you, and to pass that knowledge on to me. Much of it will be distributed throughout the Empire." The Warmaster resumed his stoic pose. "He speaks highly of you, despite knowing you are the weakest."

"Calling me weak is a good way to get your butt kicked," Yvian warned. Then she winced. Did she really just threaten Skrell Scathach?

The Warmaster was unperturbed. "You are the third best computer technician, and the fourth best combatant. In piloting, engineering, tactics, every other metric, you are surpassed by every member of your crew. You're intelligence is average for a softpaw, and you are not particularly cunning. On a Vrrl ship, you would be the lowest Hsst. And yet..."

He fell silent. Thinking, probably. Yvian opened her mouth to prod him, but stopped herself before she spoke. When he finally spoke, a dark undercurrent threaded its way through an otherwise calm voice. Anger? Envy? Fear? Yvian couldn't tell.

"And yet. In two years, your species has gone from penniless refugees to a galactic power capable of fighting the Confederation and the humans. You took a planet from the Xill. Defeated a Vore invasion. Peacefully integrated Synthetic Intelligences into your society. You even convinced the Vrrl Starfang Empire to form a battle alliance with prey animals. None of these things have been done before. I would not have thought them possible." He shook his head. "They should not be possible."

The undercurrent increased. Now Yvian knew it was anger. Or at least frustration. "You are not special. Were it not for the Scargiver's teachings, you would be as weak and helpless as any pixen. How are you the driving force behind these things? How are you the one who unlocked Lucendian technology? And how did you convince the most dangerous man in the verse to throw away everything he had, everything he was, to help you?"

"Uh..." Yvian scratched the back of her helmet. "Just lucky... I guess?"

The Warmaster regarded Yvian with supreme annoyance. "Spare me your pithy responses, pixen. These are serious questions. I want a real answer."

Yvian didn't have a real answer. She didn't know what the Warmaster was looking for. Maybe she could stall him a little. Buy some time to think. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why is it so important to you?" Yvian gestured at the ship. "You're Vrrl. The apex, right? Why are you trying so hard to learn about everyone else?"

"Do you know how the Emperor is chosen?" Skrell Scathach responded with another question.

"Uh..."

"When the Emperor dies, one of the Warmasters will take his place. I am the most likely candidate." The Warmaster sighed. "It is an assignment I dread greatly."

Yvian frowned. "How come?"

"Because we are fools," said Scathach. "Fools flailing in the dark. I am the Empire's foremost expert on xenopsychology. I know more about prey animals than anyone, and even I knew nothing of practice or skill. I assumed as we all did. That you were just stupid. Did the Scargiver give you a reading list?"

Yvian nodded.

"I learned more from those books than a lifetime of Mafdet." His tone dripped with disgust. "The Mafdet is practical knowledge. Mathematics. Instruction manuals. The knowledge given us by the Gods. No Vrrl have ever recorded their thoughts, their wisdom, in the way of Machiavelli or Lee. It has never occurred to us to do so."

"Mims said your species was only two hundred years old," Yvian said.

"Yes." Scathach confirmed. "Most species have thousands of years of learning and history before they reach the void. Many of them die off anyway. But lack of history is only part of our problem. When we first fought the humans, our technologies were equal. They have advanced much faster than we have. When we met the Oluken, they tricked us. Used us to force the Taa'oor to submit. Over and over, we have failed in the face of the softpaws."

The Warmaster growled. "We are the strongest and the smartest. We should be the Apex. Instead we are fools. We have no wisdom of our own, and we had no use for the wisdom of others. That is what I must change. I must expand the Mafdet, bring my people into the light. I must break the ways the Gods gave us before it is too late." He shook his head. "If it is not too late already."

"The ways the Gods gave you?" Yvian frowned at the man. "I thought you ate your Gods."

"We did," said Scathach. "But we still live the way they taught us. The first three Mafdet are the education the Gods required for every Vrrl child. Our Hssts are the same system the Gods gave us. Our way of life, of the Hunt, is the way they laid it out."

"Why would you do that?" Yvian asked. "The Varma didn't care about you. They made you to be slaves."

"And accepting that truth is the key to the Sixth Mafdet," Scathach told her. "Something only a handful in a generation accomplish. Even knowing..." He sighed. "Even knowing what they were, what they did... I revere them. All Vrrl do. I love them the way a pixen loves their mother. Just hearing their name fills me with awe and reverence. I can no more change that than I can remove my craving for sapient flesh. It is why we cling to the ways they have given us."

"Maybe you can change it," Yvian argued. "It's genetic programming, right? It can be fixed."

"Impossible," Scathach was certain.

"Everything's impossible," Yvian quoted the Captain, "until somebody does it."

"Hmm..." The Warmaster considered. "Perhaps. For now, we must acquire as much wisdom as we can. We have failed the Mafdet. We have refused to question the nature of things. It is a failure that must be corrected, will of the Gods or no." He took his lower set of arms out from behind his back, folding them in front of his chest. "I believe you have delayed long enough. I would have an answer to my questions."

Yvian nodded. "I don't know how. I was flailing around in the dark just like you." The Warmaster shifted. Yvian spoke quickly. "But I can tell you why."

Skrell Scathach settled back down. "Go on."

"I... when I was young..." Yvian shivered. "Some things happened to me. Bad things. Lissa, too. I remember thinking... thinking how unfair it all is. That this only happened because I was weak. Because pixens were weak. Victims. I didn't..." She took a breath, forced herself to untense her shoulders. "I didn't want it to be like that. I wanted us to be strong. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be so strong that nothing like that could ever happen again."

Her voice steadied as she continued, "I dedicated my life to that idea. Risked everything to get myself a ship. To acquire power. I got Lissa to help me. Then Mims. I..." she looked down. "I didn't do that much, really. The others did most of the heavy lifting. I think the crystal guardian gave me the Lucendian implant because it saw me fighting the Xill. I saved its life, I guess, though I was just trying to save Mims at the time. Everything else... I don't know. I was just doing the best I could. To protect my friends, and make my dream happen."

"So you attempted the impossible, and enlisted more competent people to help?" The Warmaster summarized.

"Yeah." Yvian shrugged, glad her helmet's visor hid her face. "Basically."

"And how did you enlist the aid of the Scargiver?" Scathach wondered. "Did he see something in you that I do not?"

"No." Yvian was looking at the deck again. She made herself raise her head. "No. Not really. You called him a predator, and maybe he was. But he wasn't like that because he wanted to be. Mims was... he was hurting. Alone. Being scary was all he had. When I met him..." she caught the Captain watching them again. She folded her arms and looked away. "I think I was the first person to treat him like a person. Instead of a monster. I cared about him, and he responded. He risked his life, risked everything, to make my dreams come true." Her vision blurred over a sad smile. "Because I'm his friend. Because he loves me."

Warmaster Scathach was silent. Yvian waited. She didn't know what else to say. She wasn't sure she could keep the tears out of her voice if she did know. When he finally spoke, he did so with a trace of wonder. "Your answer is... acceptable. You have given me much to think on." He stared at her with head tilted. "The Vrrl Starfang Empire ranks its members on ability alone. By those standards, you are weak." He turned away, facing the viewports like a stature made of muscle. "You are proof that those standards were created by fools."