Swords Above the Stars Read online

  SWORDS ABOVE THE STARS

  Part I

  BY

  ROMAN ZLOTNIKOV

  Copyright: Roman Zlotnikov

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  BASIS TO THE DAY OF THOUGHTS

  Part I. REBELLION

  Part II. THE RAID

  Part III THE JOURNEY TO OUTPOST

  Part IV THE BATTLE

  Glossary of terms.

  BASIS TO THE DAY OF THOUGHTS

  Only for the chosen ones, the Powerful Ones

  Of the areas of settlement of the "wild savages", according to the Penetrators of space, about two-thirds are estimated to be within the range of dominion of the Powerful Ones. The cost of development of new technologies has become prohibitively high and reached no less than the level of seven eighths of the trapezium, or pyramid of power, which refutes the thoughts of the population of Penetrators by one-sixth. The trapezium of power of the "wild savages" has an assorted structure that allows it to be more adaptive, but less mobile. Assessing how the level of the ratio of the structure of the trapezium of power, its technologies, its population, and its development, appears on any given day is not entirely clear, due to the lack of the possibility of free action by the technologies of the Penetrators.

  It is proposed by the Powerful Ones to entrust the Penetrators.

  It is proposed by the Powerful Ones to establish a small nest.

  It is proposed by the Powerful Ones to announce their decision.

  It is proposed by the Powerful Ones to merge in unification.

  ***

  “Well, what do you say, Professor?” The courtier who asked the question was adorned in a black tunic. After asking, he cast a wary glance at the grim figure looming near the huge office window, overlooking the inner courtyard garden. The Tyrant of the Zovros system impatiently brushed the sides of his gowns apart and walked nervously around the office. The courtier shivered, but concluded, “We need to know what this document means.”

  Dagmar Leili, a Simaron university professor, suppressed her irritation and carefully read the translation again, then looked again at the strange piece of leather parchment on which unusual icons had been stamped by some unknown object, in something resembling ancient Arabic script.

  This was a strange cargo for safe carriage on the star ship of an intelligent race. Yeah, there was a problem. Dagmar sighed. She was with a group of students of anthropology and archeology from the University of Simaron and had arrived on Zovros to do excavations at the spurs of the Grainy Mountains. That she had managed to get the right to excavate at all, was incredibly lucky.

  A miracle.

  Zovros was known for its downright medieval backwardness in public life. Despite that, they had considered a request from a female scientist, but most importantly, she got permission to come to the planet, and that alone was an extraordinary event.

  The news reached the ears of the whole university and, if before that Dagmar had just been one small fry out of two hundred faculties, and from one of the secondary university cities, then in gaining that permit she became a local celebrity.

  During the three months before departure she was not just busy with the preparation of the expedition, but also was required to be present at dozens of dinner parties and special meetings with the Rector and the most influential members of the Deanery.

  She would smile, and nod politely before posing for the cameras with yet another fake politician, who desperately needed female voters, and who had hoped to considerably increase the number of those voters by appearing in their living rooms, on TV, together with the heroine of the hour.

  Incomparable, polished, performing the role of a butterfly on a pin, Dagmar Leili was sick and tired of it all, but there was a positive side to all this hype. Such a brilliant person could not go on a great expedition, like that of the Argonauts, equipped only with Dagmar’s modest budget.

  So, the Dean's office, despite much grinding of the financial director’s teeth, increased the funding for the expedition four-fold, and chartered a space liner; a "Twin" type for the expedition’s transport to Zovros, which also solved the problem of delivering equipment to the surface.

  Of course, getting back would still need to be by commercial coaster flights, because by that time all the hype would have subsided, and the Dean's office would quickly lose interest in a small, provincial, archaeological expedition to a peripheral land on the borders of the inhabited worlds.

  But Dagmar was prepared for that, and was relieved to get cabotage to Zovros, at least one way, which managed to raise her spirits a little. After pompous farewells, accompanied by several speeches, hurrying to take advantage of the last opportunity to shine, she was given the go ahead to leave.

  For the first week, Dagmar slept ten hours a night, recovering from that crazy marathon. The authorities on Zovros arranged tough, but much less exhausting, welcome meetings for her. She passed through a dozen bureaucratic offices, feeling unlike the head of a serious scientific expedition, but a common whore from the street, so openly lustfully did her hosts stare at her body.

  She received a dozen visas and for a long time was stuck visiting Ambassador Tair on Zovros, awaiting an audience with the Tyrant of Zovros. For, as it turned out, without this audience no excavation could be considered.

  When she tried to hint that the permission to dig had been received some time ago by post on Simaron, she was condescendingly told to carefully read the text. Arriving at the embassy, she opened the missive, read it and, gritting her teeth, tossed into a waste bin.

  There was a knock on the door, and a small, fat man appeared on the threshold, with what was probably a permanent drip hanging from the tip of his nose. It was Mr. Neerget, Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary Ambassador of the Republic of Tair on Zovros. “I see we have a problem, my dear,” he said gently.

  “These medieval monsters with their lustful eyes are making me look foolish.”

  Neerget chuckled, “That sounds like them. To be honest, the attitude of the mass of their population has returned to the level of medieval merchants. If you don’t fool somebody, you will never sell anything. So, what exactly happened?”

  Dagmar silently showed him the text of the permit once she had retrieved it and smoothed it flat again.

  It read.

  "You may arrive on Zovros accompanied by your chosen people, numbering no more than forty, for an audience with the Tyrant, about the initiation to the wisdom of the Holy First Landing Zone," she said angrily, “I'm like a stupid idiot. I have dragged myself to this planet, heading the best equipped archaeological expedition dispatched by Simaron University over the past fifty years, and it turns out that it is all a ploy just to get me here to look at some relic they have.”

  Neerget nodded. “This is the way of things here, and as for the people, as you suggest, their lustful eyes are a reaction to you. Yes, yes, do not be surprised. Your shorts and tight blouse are much more explicit than that allowed even for dancers in their nightclubs. And if we consider that according to the tenets of the dominant religion here, a woman is the seat of all sin, then there is no surprise there. Here they successfully fight this sin, including in the most savage ways, such as an initiation ritual, which involves an operation of so-called female castration, and which is carried out without even local anaesthesia. Naturally, with such fanaticism, no practice can be considered out of the question around female sexuality, even in the family. But occasionally the local peasants feel the need for some forbidden fruit.” Then he laughed. “Do you know what the most profitable business on Zovros is nowadays?”

  Dagmar shrugged.

  “Smuggling pornography. According to local law, you can expect execution by stoning merely for talking about it,
but on the other hand, for a small bribe, you can get a pocket-sized, five-minute video recording in any coffee house. And some coffee houses even have massive shows involving a fair amount of masturb—”

  Dagmar interrupted him irritably. “Why the hell are you telling me all this?”

  “What? Aren’t you interested?” Neerget said, appearing ostentatiously surprised. “I thought that such a well-known anthropologist would have been interested in some details of the life of the local community.”

  “Right now, the local community disgusts me.”

  “Well then, let us finish our familiarization with local customs; I can only say that the majority of the population is familiar with the customs of foreign countries only via pornographic movies. Can you just imagine what they think of you?”

  “Oh, my God!” Dagmar felt herself blushing.

  Neerget chuckled again. Then, enjoying her confusion and anger, continued,

  “With regard to the Tyrant, you are unfair to him. He can’t be described as half- dead. He has just undergone a rejuvenation procedure, and apart from that, he is a very interesting person indeed. So, it is quite possible that he will receive you this week. Also, I've heard some rumours about why you got to come here at all.”

  Dagmar was leaning forward then so, after catching herself paying too much interest, she leaned back again, trying to give an expression of polite attention. However, Neerget would be no diplomat if he did not register her body language. So, when she turned her head toward him, once again she heard his faint laughter.

  “Well, to hell with your diplomacy, “muttered Dagmar. “Tell me what you found out because as far as I know, The Tyrant was in desperate need of an anthropologist.”

  Neerget laughed again. “You know, a conversation with you is a great pleasure for me. For too long I have not talked to anyone outside of my own circle, which consists mainly of professional diplomats and government officials, so such an open display of emotion gives me indescribable pleasure.”

  “You need to pay for pleasure,” Dagmar replied firmly. ‘Spit it out. Why do they need an anthropologist, and why me in particular?”

  “Why, I don’t know yet, but you just happened to be available. According to my information, your request came at a time when they were desperately pondering how to get an anthropologist onto the planet without attracting too much attention. As far as I understand, they are loath to advertise their official interest in representatives of such an exotic profession on their planet, at least for the time being. That’s why, if they had turned to an anthropologist, asking her to accept their invitation …” He paused significantly, and, noting that Dagmar caught the hint, said, “So you were in luck.”

  “They could send information of interest from a standpoint of anthropological analysis to any university. I am sure that if they were to request complete confidentiality, it would be observed. Universities often provide such services.”

  Neerget squinted slyly. “What do you think their mentality is? The Tyrant will not release a single piece of information that he considers strictly confidential outside of the palace walls. By the way, in the light of this, I can imagine that your excavation may be slightly delayed. Say, to the moment when the Tyrant decides that public disclosure of what you have learned is no longer a danger to Zovros.”

  “So, are you saying that they would dare to keep me on the planet?”

  “If they decide that it is necessary, then there is no doubt about it, my dear!”

  “I can’t believe it!” Dagmar was stunned and leaned back in her seat. Before the ill-fated moment when she applied to organize the expedition to Zovros, everything that happened to her had always been through her own free will, or at least under her control.

  She graduated from high school top of her class, choosing herself to take the A-prime exams. She passed them successfully and received an interplanetary standard qualification. This allowed her to apply for admission to Simaron University.

  After five years of study, she enrolled in graduate school, performed brilliantly, and became the youngest doctor in the history of the university. To some extent, she was lucky that she chose anthropology. It was not crowded full of competitors, like other more fashionable and prestigious disciplines.

  Now, at the age of thirty-five, she had led the most talked about expedition by the University in the field of archaeology and anthropology in the last fifty years. If she considered it, her work in the Sacred Zone of the First Landing being so widely followed, even ignoring the staggering rumors about its relics that scientists had never worked on before, it could be assumed that on her return she could expect at least a Dean’s chair, and an open door to continue her research. Instead, it turns out that she could be stuck for a while on this sad little planet …

  “How long do you think it might take?”

  “Well, the standard term for the declassification of documents under their laws is fifty years. But, generally, the Tyrant is a law unto himself, so you may be stuck here for the rest of your life.”

  “But that’s just not possible. They can’t afford to detain forty citizens from Simaron and other worlds without an explanation.”

  “Well, it would not be difficult for them to find a reason. Do not forget that the place where you are going to dig is their holy shrine. Their beliefs are full of all sorts of forbidden acts and taboos. It is enough for them to accuse you of violating some of them, and so … especially if they to plan to familiarize only you with the information and let the others leave in peace.”

  “And, what if I tell the others?”

  Neerget pursed his lips together sternly. “Then they will detain all of you.”

  “But this is … scandalous!”

  “For many, the very existence of Zovros itself is a scandal. So, one more scandal will make no difference to the Tyrant …” Neerget paused expectantly.

  “But surely Simaron will not tolerate this.”

  Neerget smiled wryly. “And how will they express this? Will they hurl written evidence of extreme indignation at Zovros?”

  Dagmar stuck out her chin stubbornly. “Simaron has treaties of mutual assistance with a dozen states, also by the way, including with Tair.”

  Neerget laughed again. “Oh, come on, no one starts a war over forty people for violating the religious prohibitions on a peripheral planet. Especially if they are, say, torn to pieces by a mob of fanatics. They will simply express regret and offer some compensation. But our government will have to fight to the end to get it, down to throwing thunderbolts over the subject, and only then will we gain from your detention.”

  There was silence in the room for a while, as Dagmar pondered on what had been said. Then she turned to Neerget and cautiously asked, “So why are you telling me all of this?”

  Neerget stared at her with a hard look in his watery gray eyes. Now it was particularly noticeable that, despite his plump body, slightly bowed legs, and constant drip on the end of his nose, he was a fighter. “I want to know what the Tyrant says to you. And what your conclusions are.” Without waiting for an answer, he said in a most persuasive tone. “Try to understand, this is your only chance. If what they want to keep hidden becomes known to everybody, they will no longer need to keep you.”

  “So, they will kick me out before I even get to the Sacred Zone of the First Landing,” Dagmar said sarcastically. “No way, and besides that, what is to prevent you from ganging up against me with the Tyrant and agreeing to keep everything that we discover between yourselves?”

  “Once again you are not taking their mentality into account. Anything that goes beyond the palace walls, and even more so if it falls into the hands of foreigners, is no longer considered secret. No matter how hard we try to convince them that their secrets are safe, they will not believe us. As for your dig, then I will get you to tell me about the results only when your work is close to completion. Unless, of course, you decide that the information requires immediate action.”

  Dagma
r thought silently for a few moments. “Alright then, are there reasons to believe that immediate action would be required?”

  “Yes, otherwise, I would not be talking to you.”

  “You’re lying.” Dagmar grinned. “Tell me the truth. What is going on.”

  Neerget smiled and nodded then seemed to slip into diplomat mode. “My apologies, I relaxed impermissibly in your company. I should not be so careless in your presence. Your spontaneity made me temporarily forget about your brilliant intellect, and you punished me for it. But it’s already too late to complain.” He paused, and finally got back to talking normally. “There is reason to believe that the Zovros fleet has got its hands on an alien ship of a clearly unearthly design. And that they did not get it in the form of ruins or fossil fragments, but captured it in battle when two ships boarded it, after it had destroyed three others. When you consider that in the entire known galaxy, only people that come from Earth can build starships, then …”

  Dagmar went pale. “That means that we are faced with another civilization, which has already crossed the stars, just like us,” whispered Dagmar.

  ***

  All this flashed through Dagmar’s memory when she examined the piece of treated skin with the apparently hand-written inscriptions—or whatever these alien creatures used for hands—and was lying on the table. Occasionally she would glance at the copy of the translation lying next to it.

  “I'm not ready to answer.” Dagmar looked up at the Tyrant. “It requires a detailed study. I want to try to put it through the main computer …”

  “No,” the Tyrant said sharply.

  “Then you must at least let me consult …”

  “No!”

  “But I will at least need programs …”

  “No, you do it alone, with what you have, here and now.”

  Dagmar became angry. “In that case, you can do it yourself.”

  The huge office which, in addition to Dagmar and the Tyrant, held only a half-dozen of the most senior courtiers and officials, was filled with gasps of amazement, mixed with extreme irritation.