Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) by Mark Wandrey (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📕

side, observing Captain I’kik and her crew work. Alan caught a handhold and skirted the outside of the bridge toward the merc commander. As he floated, he glanced out the big wrap-around bridge viewport. Klbood’s blue-white star blazed brightly. The window had built-in abilities to dim bright light, and likely a defense against lasers. The star was so intense, the window couldn’t reduce the light enough for him to avoid squinting.

“Commander Porter,” A’kef said as Alan grabbed a stanchion and came to a stop.

“A’kef,” Alan replied. “What’s going on?”

“We didn’t find what we expected.”

“Either of our people here?”

“No. However, there is a station.”

“I thought it was a dead system,” Alan said.

“As did we.”

Alan controlled his expression. He wanted to smile at the Zuul merc commander’s surprise. After all, they often bragged about being one of the preeminent merc races in the galaxy. They’d been fighting contracts before Human history. To see them caught off guard gave him hope Humans weren’t as much the babes in the woods as the other races liked to consider them.

“What kind of a base?” Alan asked.

“See for yourself,” A’kef said, and gestured to the bridge Tri-V.

The center now showed what Alan thought was a more-or-less standard ring space station. However, the longer he observed it, the more he realized it was anything but standard.

Space stations were usually rings, or multiple rings in the case of larger stations. Karma Station had multiple rings, each at a different, higher gravity the further out they got from the non-rotating central hub. Docking was in the hub, which also often held warehousing and repair facilities. He understood these designs grew out of requirements for spacefaring, and likely were as old as starships.

“Is that a collection of junk ships?” Alan asked.

“Looks like it,” A’kef answered.

Alan could tell the Zuul was unsettled. Despite his kids being aliens raised by Humans, many of their mannerisms and expressions seemed to be more instinctive than learned. The way A’kef gave short answers, his ears back and almost flat against his head, and his unwillingness to look away from the station, all spoke of concern, anger, or at least extreme alertness.

“Who do you think made that thing?” Alan asked.

“Don’t know. But if I were to guess, I’d say Pushtal.”

“Really?”

A’kef nodded.

“So, this is a pirate outpost?”

“That is the captain’s fear.”

Alan had never fought, nor even met, a Pushtal. He knew they looked a lot like Bengal tigers, which was frightening enough. But the Pushtal were commonly referred to as a ‘failed merc race.’ He didn’t know for certain what that meant, only that the Pushtal were no longer members of the Mercenary Guild and had turned to theft, larceny, and even piracy to make a living.

“Have you encountered Pushtal pirates before?” A’kef asked, turning away from the space station for the first time.

“No,” Alan admitted. “Silent Night is classified as a Light Assault company. Most of our missions tend to be relief of besieged targets, attacking moderately defended bases, or part of a larger campaign.” He shrugged. “We’re not one of the Four Horsemen.”

“Your Hosh,” A’kef said, nodding. “We have come up against the one called Asbaran once. It was many years ago, and luckily we were on the backside of that contract. They are savage fighters.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“True, you Humans don’t fight each other.” His ears swiveled as he considered.

“Almost never,” Alan admitted. “It’s an unwritten rule.”

A’kef cocked his head in confusion, and Alan tried again. “That means it isn’t a hard law, just a sort of rule we all agree on. There have been a few big fights between Humans, but not many.”

“I understand,” A’kef said. “Insho’Ze prefers not to fight other Zuul, but at times honor pulls us other ways.”

“We have comms,” a technician said.

“Any signs of active drives around the emergence point?” Captain I’kik asked.

“No, Captain,” another tech said. “There is a lot of garbage here, though. I have the remains of nine ships, and pieces of many more. Some of the debris could be drone clusters.” The technician looked at the captain and whined. “It could be a trap.”

Alan watch the captain, whose jaw was tightly clenched and her eyes fixed on the Tri-V. The comms tech looked from the captain to a tech strapped in next to him then back at the captain. He noted that the discipline on the bridge was perfect. He’d never been on a ship with the degree of compliance and discipline he was currently seeing. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was simply the Zuul’s nature or the captain’s ability.

“Let’s have those comms,” she finally said. The hissing, snapping language that erupted over the bridge speakers was the most evocative of its representative race Alan had ever heard.

“Pushtal,” A’kef confirmed.

“What ship are you? Why are you here? Why have you not responded until now?”

“Am I going to be allowed to answer, or do you intend to simply continue blurting questions?” When the Pushtal inquisitor went silent, I’kik continued, “This is ZMS Paku. We are conducting an investigation. We didn’t respond because we were trying to decide if this was an ambush.”

“Is that an accusation?” the Pushtal asked, the translator conveying anger.

“Should it be?”

“We Pushtal are often unjustly persecuted.”

“Unjustly?” Silence ensued. “May I inquire to the purpose of your…station? There is no record in the GalNet of it, or in the Cartography Guild navigational data. Since you suggest you are not involved in anything untoward, an explanation would be useful.”

“This is our trading station,” the Pushtal said. “We are still working on it.”

“So it seems.”

The Tri-V showed a number of ancillary scans, which were ongoing. Alan could see as each section was scanned, categorized, or in some cases identified as a particular class of ship. A few were definitely armed,