“With the coming of these intruders, the Day of the Demons assuredly draws near,” High Priest Chik-chak hissed.
“They were here already,” Queen Sicrac replied quietly, considering the missive from Lady Che-chee. The old fighter had a wonderful flare for prose. “Perhaps they are able to help us.”
“Blasphemy,” the high priest said, but mutedly. “There is no stopping the Demons; they are a scourge sent by the gods to punish the wicked. Unfortunately, it’s become hard to decide what is wicked and what not. And in this case, the blasphemy comes after the Demons have returned.”
The rumors had been unstoppable and before the humans ever landed, proclamations had been sent throughout Cheerick, shouted in the square and announced in the temples. The Demons had returned. Prepare as well as you can. Reserves of the Guard were called up and the preparations the priests had long sought, food and records sealed in deep caves, had begun. No one knew when the worst of the Demon wave would hit, but the queen intended that, this once, something would be left to rebuild civilization.
Now, out of all legend and historical sequence, these… Chrans had come with their made things. After the first of the Demons. It upset precedent. The queen, however, had jumped on it. The Chrans had come to aid them against the Demons.
Now, if she could just convince them of the same thing.
“Okay, call me Dr. Dean if you want, but that thing bugs the every living maulk out of me,” Runner said, looking to the northwest.
“The hill?” Sergeant Kristopher said, planting the drill. “It’s a basolith.” This referred to an igneous upwelling that formed underground, then was exposed as lighter materials eroded away from it.
“Really?” Runner said sarcastically. He picked up a section of pipe and inserted it. This was the fourth core sample they’d taken and they were all coming up the same, soil followed by layers of limestone and sandstone. The region had, several million years before, been under water. There were fossils. The layers all looked right. Normal for this sort of region. This world hadn’t been terraformed recently, that was for sure. “You’re the expert? Son, there’s no surface evidence of granite anywhere within six hundred clicks of that so-called basolith. And there’s nothing for a hundred meters down. You always get some secondary outcroppings when you’ve got basolithic extrusion, but everything in the area is loam or limestone.”
“So what do you think it is, Dr. Runner?”
“I dunno,” Runner admitted. “And I’ll even admit to missing Dr. Dean. He might have had a clue.”
“We can ask for permission to check it out,” Kristopher said. “Go over and get some samples.”
“Maybe after the negotiations are complete,” Runner said. “Long damned walk.”
“Ask if we can borrow a cart.”
“Jesus Christ!” Sergeant Jaenisch said as they reached the walls of the inner city.
Chief Miller and Miss Moon had been installed in an open carriage pulled by six-legged beasts while Commander Weaver and the first sergeant, still in their Wyverns, followed in a cart festooned with flowers and bunting. And the beasts were moving along at a nice trot, requiring the security team to trot along behind to keep up. But the run wasn’t what caused Jaen’s exclamation. That was the crowds.
They had already passed through the outer periphery of the city, slums really, and there had been locals there, their fur matted with filth but squeaking in apparent enthusiasm and making way for the team of cavalry that led and secured the procession. But it wasn’t until they cleared the ruinous walls of the city that they hit the real crowds. There the cavalry had to slow, slapping Cheerick aside with their swords and squeaking curses. The roadway was packed with the locals who were throwing flowers and paper at the carriages and trying to mob them in joy.
“Well, at least they’re happy to see us,” Hatt said.
“They’re ecstatic,” Top Powell said, breaking in on the team freq. “And any group this happy to see a military force has military problems. Keep that in mind.”
The group was effectively stopped by the crowds and some of them had broken through the cavalry and were now climbing on the carriages.
“Miss Moon, how do you say: Thank you but you must move aside?” Weaver asked.
“It’s… can you…”
“PFC Berg, can you retrans from Miss Moon?”
“Set up, sir,” Berg said.
“Tell the drivers to hold onto their beasts!” Weaver said. “Berg, max volume!”
“CHEE-SHA TREEK!” Berg’s armor suddenly shrieked. “SHA-SHA MEEK!”
The crowd pressed back and some of the cavalry were nearly thrown as their beasts started to bolt. The formerly placid draft-beasts pulling Commander Weaver’s cart tried to bolt as well, but Jaen grabbed onto the cart and planted his feet.
“Sorry, ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said as Berg and Hatt got a hold as well.
Chief Miller hammered the fingers of a local still holding the carriage and waved his M-10 at the leader of the cavalry.
“Go! Go!” he yelled, pointing down the road.
As the cavalry broke into a canter, the security team let go and followed at a steady bound.
“CHEE-SHA TREEK! SHA-SHA MEEK!”
Between the charging cavalry and the shrieking armor, they managed to pass out of the near riot, and the crowds farther down the road stood aside.
“Oh, yeah,” Jaen said, panting. “This is gonna be fun.”
Weaver walked solemnly down the throne room, trailing Miriam and Miller. The latter had given up his knife before being allowed in but his M-10 was slung. Nobody had apparently realized that the things on the Terran’s shoulders were weapons.
The throne room was low and rather dark. He’d noticed a tendency towards less light in all the Cheerick buildings. He wondered about the evolutionary background of the Cheerick as he approached the throne.
The latter was rather ornate, but not exactly “jewel encrusted.” The Cheerick definitely used jewels, though, since the queen was wearing a cloak that had them along the hem and a large necklace that had more. It might just be that they were very rare in this society.
They stopped at a balk line and a male wearing complex vestments started speaking, apparently for the queen.
“Negotiations,” Weaver muttered. “This should be interesting.”
“Just remember, sir,” the first sergeant said. “There’s going to be that one thing they really want from us. All we have to do is figure out what it is, whether we’re willing to do it and how much they’re willing to pay. The essence of negotiation is control. Find out what you control and what you don’t and you win. I think the reception we got says it all. These people are scared.”
“I’d rather be defending a scientific paper,” Weaver said.
“Lots of fun, sir?” Top asked.
“Brutal.”
“Brutal.”
They’d managed to get the claw away from Lady Che-chee with some more jewels and the, honest, statement that they wished to examine it. Apparently the one specimen that was brought back by the patrol survivor had been distributed, packed in alcohol, to every major lord in the land.
This claw was nineteen centimeters from the “ankle” to the tip of the longest claw. Dr. Robertson picked up the thing and pulled out some material she’d borrowed from the geology lab. It was a kit designed to test mineral hardness. She’d been informed of the claw marks in the limestone so she skipped right up to glass.