MBGSP Chpt 126-128

Chapter 126 - Damnable Midnighters

With glass came grinding and lens-making. As our bi-glider flew over Canaveral, I peered down the length of what the System had called a ‘brass scope ‘em out’. The simple telescope made from a series of lenses and leftover brass tubing from the Ifrit was a simple spyglass with a fixed magnification and a focusing ring, mishandled to the point it had a visible elbow in the metal sleeve. Yet, unsurprisingly given the Goblin Tech Tree, it still functioned.

I pulled my eyes back from the telescope, blinked, and looked again. Then, I turned to the pilot. “Get Sourtooth on the radio,” I said.

The goblin pilot chittered and grabbed his plane’s radio handset, chittering into the device as he angled us toward the bluff, and Promo held his hand out for the tube. He looked himself as I sat back, considering.

“Are those…?”

“Humans,” I said. I ran a hand through the fur on the top of my head. “Looks like.”

“What’re they doing here?”

Nothing good, that was for sure. They weren’t paladins from the City of Brass, but I still saw the flash of steel weaponry among strange cavalry. A lot of weaponry. And strange horses, beside. Must have been Habberport troops—except  they’d come from the east—which meant they must have either crossed the badlands or skirted the edge, and I couldn’t imagine the orcs would let such a band pass uncontested through their hunting grounds. All around me, goblins lined the edge of the bluff and looked down at the procession. While they were too far to make out individual levels, I had no doubt each one was more than any goblin could handle. I’d ordered the lifts frozen, and sent radio to outstations to be on guard as well.

The sparker behind me stiffened and opened his mouth.

“Hail? Blast this contraption! Hands to thyself, keep you, I know how it works! Is this artifice powered?”

I took the handset from the front of the aircraft. “Sourtooth. I thought you said the humans wouldn’t send an envoy to treat with goblins.”

“I know the button I must press, little brother! Cease twisting yon dial, whiskered menace, you. I’ll show you tuned when stretched are your guts across the bowl of a lyre.”

I groaned and pressed the heel of my hand into my temple. It was like trying to teach Grandpa to use a smart phone. “Sourtooth!” I shouted.

The squabble on the radio ceased, and the old orc came on. “Apollo! What found, you?”

“Habberport sent an envoy to Canaveral,” I said. “You told me they wouldn’t treat with goblins.”

“They wouldn’t, little brother. Are you sure that it’s humans your eyes glean?”

I looked down at the conical helmets and palanquin hefted by four kneeling men in some sort of dark blue hooded supplicant robe that left their carrying shoulders bare, and their skin was so dark it glistened in the sun almost as brightly as their weapons. “Pretty sure.”

“Have they a standard?”

“Hold on,” I took the brass spyglass back from Promo and angled it down again. At the head of the procession, I could indeed see a pair of dark banners. “Yeah, they’ve got some.”

“Describe to me what heraldry marks them,”

“Hard to tell,” I said. “Black field, white dots, and a football-looking… eye! It’s an eye!”

The radio was silent for several seconds.

“Sourtooth?” I looked at the pilot. “Did we loose line of sight?” I pointed to the sky. “Climb back up so we can get him back”

The pilot chittered and squawked angrily at his controls, clearly unhappy about being told to descend, only to be told to climb back up, and then inevitably descend again.

“I am here, little brother mine.” Sourtooth’s voice was hesitant. “Tis the standard of the Midnight Queen.”

I cocked my head. “The astrologer people? That makes no sense. They have no reason to be at our doorstep.”

“Yet it is so. Wary be you, little brother. I am on my way if I can convince one of these blasted aviators to cart me.”

Promo and I looked at each other. While motorcycles and buggies were all well and good, they were grounded, and the sour old orc had made it clear in no uncertain terms that we were likely to see him fly only after all the lands and seas froze over. But humans had also come knocking at our doors, which he also said would never happen.

I signaled the pilot to land us, which made him sigh and grumble. But he brought us around and got us lined up with Canaveral’s main airstrip. This bluff had certainly undergone changes, as well. It was the most defensible of all the villages on account of the daily lizard fight. The buildings were mostly reinforced, and the perimeter wall had a lot of down-angled spikes and spears to deter climbers. The recoilless rifle positions were a new addition, and right now they were all pointed down at the procession.

Once we landed, I swung out of the cockpit in time to see John jogging up to me with a pair of canoneers huffing and puffing beside him.

“King Apollo!” he said. “Radios are going mad! Blokes down below, they’re not the only ones.”

“There are more of them?” I asked.

“At least 3 other groups we spotted—one heading into the deep desert went by the depot, one passing the north bluff got seen by a balloon, and another was moving up the rivers by boat, headed toward the coast.”

One of the canoneers spoke up. “What should we do, o’ king? Shall I speak to them?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. I scratched at the ground with a toe while I considered. I wished Rufus was here. I just didn’t know enough about the people of Rava outside Lanclova. But I did know Sourtooth said the Midnight Queen didn’t maintain a presence on Lanclova because the moon blocked their ability to read signs and portents in the stars—and they were rich enough to not care about its bounties. “Do nothing yet. Wait for Sourtooth.”

It didn’t take long for the plane carrying the leader of the Flock to appear in the sky to the west. The aircraft landed and the old orc stumbled out of the cabin and onto the ground with shaky legs, leaning against the fuselage for support. Apparently, he liked flying about as much as Rufus did.

“Damned machine!” he cried. He spotted me and straightened. “Let me look upon this envoy for myself, little brother.”

He grumbled and mumbled the whole way up to the rampart where John handed him a spyglass. The old orc scratched his stubble as he squinted down the length of it. He handed it back to the lookout. “It is they. Damnable midnighters. What seek they here? Raphina blinds them upon the land of shaded skies. Hmm.”

“Are they dangerous?” I asked.

The old orc looked down at me. “As a viper. Yet, no invading army, this. You could capture them, should you wish it—though, not without cost.” he pointed down at the cavalry. “Templar guard, they. Deadly as a paladin of the Ifrit. Even seasoned orc hunters would give pause. That cradle of fancy? A priestess—sorcesses, they. Devious creatures who read the stars.”

John leaned forward. “Give the order, King Apollo. I’ll have ‘em trussed for you.”

“Hold on that,” I said. “They haven’t attacked us yet. They’re waiting—in plain sight.”

“And in light of day, at their weakest,” said Sourtooth.

“Armed,” John reminded me.

“Only does a fool walk absent arms in Lanclova,” said Sourtooth. He spat on the ground. “Tis your call, o brother king.”

It’s not always easy, being the one expected to make all the decisions. Rava was getting bigger for me. When I first arrived here, it was me, a dozen other goblins, and a half-badger. Our biggest worry was making fire and dealing with forest beasts. Now, things were starting to get complicated. I ran a hand through my fur and looked down at the convoy. They had maybe 50 or so members—and only half of that was fighters. Plus whatever magics the sorceress could wield in addition to her star-reading. Ultimately, though, they’d shown no sign of hostility and had left out badlands depot unmolested—despite having the forces to overrun it easily. And they were approaching other factions on Lanclova, as well. Maybe that meant they saw us on equal terms as the orcs, the Ifrit, or Habberport?

There was really only one way to learn more. Going down was out of the question. Even if Armstrong would have allowed such a thing, there was no way I could put myself in the position to be taken and spirited away on the backs of one of those strange horses. But it was time to see just how far out on a limb these visitors were willing to go. “The eclipse will be here soon. Let’s at least let them up before the lizards make a meal of them. Then we can decide what to do with them.” I raised my voice. “Lower the lift!”

Chapter 127 - Servants of the Midnight Sea

In building out roads to connect the various disparate bluffs and outstations that made up our little budding society, it had also given other interests a smooth approach to our front door—one I found I didn’t appreciate. That’s not to say I wouldn’t prefer to be neighborly, but a few of the neighbors had already proven to be raucous and violent. Like the unhinged guy down the road from my house as a kid who shouted while mowing his lawn. Not at anyone, just in general at the world.

I’d adopted an unofficial policy of extending an olive branch first, but making sure it was big enough to swing. At heart, I still considered myself an explorer and a scientist. Not a warrior. Many, many astronauts come from the military, from Army and Air Force aviation programs. John Glenn was a marine and Buzz Aldrin flew fighters in Korea. My own mission commander, Dave Sanders, was an F35 pilot with a dozen combat missions (most of which he couldn’t talk about). I hadn’t understood their experiences when I was at NuEarth. Now I had flown into combat too, and I felt more in tune with what they’d seen and done—even if my missions were against orcs and elves and monsters. The difference was, they volunteered. I wasn’t given a choice when the javeline went bluff to bluff exterminating and the elves attacked Ringo on his island. When we encountered the stampede, if an orc ghost hadn’t conspired to get us to join it, the orcs would have run us off the plains to keep us from hunting on them unless we’d fought.

Right now, it seemed like the fortune tellers down below were offering me at least simple choices. Talk with us. Or don’t. Attack us. Or don’t.

It was more than I’d gotten in the past. When given a choice, I would still choose to be the explorer. Granted, this wasn’t Starfleet, and my mandate wasn’t to boldly seek out new life and new civilizations. I had no obligation to the ‘damnable midnighters’ as Sourtooth called them. But the old orc was more perplexed than worried.

“Get that lift down!” shouted John.

At the eastern edge of the bluff, a pair of clutches were engaged that allowed wind-power to start cranking the cable system that lowered the wide freight lift built into a platform that extended over the edge of the bluff. To the sides, many goblins peered over the edge at the newcomers, curious but wary. My own Ravan instincts for danger were kicking in as well. Goblins were hardwired to fear anything both larger than themselves and stronger than themselves. Since goblins were perpetually stuck at level 1 that listed included, essentially, everything in the world. Except some birds and bugs and most plant life. But Rufus’ book had described a few floral monsters that would make a quick snack and a long digestion of goblins, so even there we weren’t safe.

At the base of the bluff, the procession took notice immediately. Warriors who had been lounging rose to their feet and shrugged back into their packs or smacked the ground with the butts of spears to wake their buddies. Animals rustled at the activity. The bearers for the palanquin rose from their meditation and placed cloths on their shoulders as a buffer for what must have been a sacred vehicle.

The freight lift lowered onto the dust of the ground. The party stopped short. They realized pretty quickly that not all of their party would fit on the lift—designed as it was for goblins and goblin-sized vehicles. An exchange passed between what must have been the officer in charge of the templar (from his feathered helmet) and the occupant of the palanquin. A few moments later, the cavalry dismounted and handed off their reigns to a group of attendants before stepping up onto the lift. One of the mounts stretched, and I caught a flutter of something on its back.

“Is that…?”

“Wings, aye,” said Sourtooth, leaning against the rampart. “Armored air cavalry. Elite shock soldiers.”

The palanquin bearers stepped up onto the lift as well, and were followed by a dozen unarmed attendants. When it seemed the rest of their party would remain on the low ground, the lift operators threw the clutch and the platform began to rise. I hoped it wasn’t a mistake. Within a few minutes, they passed out of view beneath the lift platform, so I quit the ramparts with Armstrong and Sourtooth.

“Have the boys armed and armored-front plates in, rifles unloaded. I don’t want a stray shot causing a diplomatic incident.”

“Aye, king,” said John.

“Same for the secretive service,” I told Armstrong. He nodded and whistled for a pair of his scrappers to round up the rest of the lads on Canaveral. He also deputized a half-dozen other goblins, just to be safe.

The freight lift finished its climb as I reached the platform with my own entourage—which now also included a pair of canoneers carting pages with pre-drawn panels, the portly noblins ecstatic at the chance to capture live events and make it ‘fficial goblin histry.

The midnighters stepped off the lift, carrying the palanquin carefully onto the platform, and then on to the bluff, where we waited. System began assigning levels as they drew close enough. Sure enough, the elite guards were similar in strength to the Ifrit paladins. But what was most curious to me, was that the sorceress and her attendants were all clumped together into one level 40 ensemble. She was at least twice as strong as the ones protecting her. Her guardians were dressed in silks draped and wrapped around smooth, shiny armor that didn’t look metallic, but more like lacquered wood or polymer.

As they moved closer, something itched at the back of my human mind, giving me the ick, if you will. But it wasn’t until the head of their guard dropped his veil that I realized Sourtooth hadn’t been wrong after all. No human would treat with a goblin. But the midnighters weren’t human at all. They were bipedal insects. What I’d taken for a lacquered carapace armor, was in fact, just carapace. The smooth, exposed skin of the palanquin bearers was also chitin—though not as thick, I presumed.

The leader’s mandibles clicked and clacked. His eyes scanned the collected goblins—eyes that were complex and emotive, not the sterile facetted eyes you might expect. Close enough to a human’s that I noticed the spark of surprise, quickly covered, when he spotted an orc among our ranks.

“Priestess Cla’thn. Voice of the night. Reader of stars. Watcher of midnight tides. Seek your leader,” he said in our general direction. His mandibles moved in a way that I couldn’t tell how he produced the low, buzzing voice. But it was stilted and halting, like an early computerized voice with too low a bit-rate. It looked like his mouth parts were punching syllables into a typewriter, rather than shaping sounds. “Is one among you who can speak?”

Every goblin present—even the other speech—capable ones, pointed straight at me. I looked around. I was going to have to have a word with them about opsec in the near future. Especially now that we were sending traffic over the airwaves.

Nothing for it, then. I stepped forward. “I’m Apollo, the leader here. I’d know your intentions, but the rest of your… people… are in danger. The eclipse will be here soon, and with it, the forest floor will be swarmed with carnivorous reptiles. I’d advise bringing the rest of your contingent up onto the bluff if they don’t want to be lunch.”

If the captain was surprised to hear a goblin speak, he did a good job of covering it. “Ap-pol-low,” he buzzed, sounding his way around the word. He leaned back toward the palanquin. An exchange passed with the occupant that caused the captain to stiffen before turning. My guess was that he wasn’t too happy being surrounded by, and at the mercy of, a group of goblins. The silk curtain in the window moved, and saw a white claw for just a moment. The captain turned back. “Very well.”

“Does the priestess intend to speak to me, herself?” I asked.

The guard captain slammed the butt of his spear into the dirt. “Priestess Cla’thn. Voice of queen. She treat with you. By shade. Eclipse or light of stars,” he said.

I shrugged. Suit herself. I gave the signal and the lift began lowering again to bring the rest of the attendants and the mounts back up. The captain eyed me the whole time, clearly curious, but unwilling to give voice to the questions he obviously had. Maybe it wasn’t his place? between the colorful, decorative silks and the overly-ornate workings on his spear, plus the palanquin and the bearers and the deference to the priestess, I got the impression this was a very, very structured culture with discrete castes and heavily enforced etiquette and decorum. Maybe I was just anthropomorphising them too much with a beehive since they looked like insects. Hell, for all I knew, these guys were actually mammals that gave live birth and nursed infants.

The captain and his fellows stood, unmoving, as the sun drew closer to Raphina.

“Can I, uh, offer you anything?” I asked. “Water, food, a place to sit?”

Sourfang nodded his approval, but the captain simply stood stiff and rigid.

“We bring provisions,” he said.

We weighted as the lift brought up the remaining attendants, mounts, and their baggage—lots of ornate wooden trunks on decorative carts—hauled by pack beetles. What I’d taken for horses were taller, slender insects with vicious, elongated mandibles and faceted eyes. I wondered if these were all similar species bred for different purpose, or a collective of different insectile races. I’d have to ask later, if I could figure out a circumspect way of doing so.

John tapped my arm. I turned to look at the leader of Canaveral. “Ought to make ready, boss,” he said.

“Go ahead,” I said. “We’ll be fine here.”

I hoped.

Chapter 128 - The Voice of the Queen

The Midnighter captain watched the goings on with some interest as the majority of the armed goblins moved to the southern edge of the bluff to man their positions.

“You under attack?” he asked.

“Every day, like clockwork,” I said. “Light-sensitive reptiles from the badlands.”

“Clok-kwork.” he sounded out. The palanquin curtain fluttered again, and the captain leaned back. I couldn’t hear the exchange that passed between them, but the captain straightened and trilled out a series of high-frequency notes.

Several of his soldiers stepped up in a rank.

“My warriors. Spend them.”

I looked up at Sourtooth. He shrugged down at me.

“A spear is a spear, and only a fool turns down one to be at his foes pointed. Especially one so skilled as the midnighter elites,” he said. “At your own peril, turn up at gifts offered by the Queen and her servants.”

“Fair enough. Armstrong, get ‘em sorted on the wall,” I said. When the scrapper chief hesitated, I patted him on the arm. “I’ll be fine. They’re here to talk, not fight.” I considered. “Except for the ones who want to get stuck in with the lizards.”

“Arms’strong,” the captain sounded out. “A good name. Power name.” He gestured to his warriors. “Take them. The priestess gives.”

“C’mon, lads, I’ll get you sorted,” said the scrapper chief, all trepidation gone. More than anything else, he loved a good fight, so it wasn’t a whole lot of arm twisting to jump into one with new hands at his side. The handful of warriors trotted off with the scrapper chief and the rest of the defenders as the sun crept slowly toward Raphina’s horizon and I waited to get my first look at this priestess.

As the sun slipped behind the moon, the attendants carefully lowered the palanquin. One of them removed the cloth from his shoulder and laid it on the ground while another opened the door and dropped to his knees.

The priestess didn’t so much stand up as she unfolded from the palanquin. She was at least half again as tall as a person, spindly carapace wrapped in hanging silks of teal and orange, with a veil that matched. What I could see above the veil was… almost human—though not so much so that I’d ever mistake the priestess for one.

She held out her arms—two of them, at least, of the four I could see, and a pair of her attendants carefully folded back her sleeves to reveal alabaster chitinous limbs fringed with delicate white hair. When she rubbed them together, it created an uncanny facsimile of a woman’s voice, closer to human than even the orc women. I shuddered.

“I greet you, chieftain. I am Priestess Clathn, voice  of the Midnight Queen, reader of stars, blessed under the sea, and seeker of hidden truths.”

“King Apollo. Charmed,” I said. “I heard your folks don’t come around here much. What brings you to my little stretch of Lanclova?”

If she was surprised at my title, she didn’t show it. Instead, the priestess made a sign with two of her fingers, like two peace signs touching tips. Below that, her second set of hands made a circle, then brought them together in the shape of an eye. “The watchful eye is changing. We wish to study it from close afield. You have noticed this, yes?”

I glanced up. “I have. It’s got less ocean than it did a couple months ago. Deeper canyons. You came for a closer look?”

“An observatory, upon high ground. We should like to construct one. You know the high ground in Lanclova. Perhaps you know a place like this that you are not using. Know you the art of star-tracking?”

She waved for one of her attendants, who brought forth a wooden case, and withdrew a silk band around it so that it could be opened. Inside, a beautifully worked brass telescope. This wasn’t the bent brass tube with crudely ground lenses that I used to peer out of the bi-glider. This was the real deal, handmade, ornate, inlaid with geometric patterns and marked with strange constellations. It sat on a navy blue cushion, secured with a silk band.

“I…” I stammered. “I may have heard of it.”

Another of the priestess’ supplicants produced a tripod, and the first gently placed the telescope upon it.

“We use artifice of curved glass to make a thing appear to be many times closer. Details are revealed, and stars that one could not see with eyes alone shine brightly. These we track. These we measure—and in them, find truths.”

When Sourtooth had described the Midnight Queen to me, he had called them astrologers. But they were also astronomers. I approached the telescope carefully. The tubes were sectioned off, and I could clearly see both a zoom ring and a focal ring. I ran my hands over the length.

“If you’d like, King Apollo, I can show you the…. oh.”

I gently positioned the aperture towards Raphina. Though the side facing us was in shadow, it still received some bounced light from the parts of Rava not under eclipse, and there was plenty to see. I carefully adjusted the focus until I brought sweeping pink plains into view, and deep, amber canyons spotted with vegetation.

I won’t lie. I gasped. This was my first look, real look, at Raphina’s surface. This was the next best thing to walking on it myself. And as much as I hate to say it, Raphina was a lot more interesting, geographically, than our own moon—which I’d spent a lot of summer nights looking up at. This wasn’t just a moon worth going to. This was a moon worth staying on. And it was waiting for me. I stepped away from the viewport, eyes beginning to well. The priestess took my place and peered through the aperture, then tilted her head at me, but said nothing.

“Your star tracking doesn’t do much good here, I imagine. Too much light reflected off Raphina washes out the sky.”

“Our skills are diminished, yes. This is why I have my captain.”

Toward the south end of the bluff I began to hear the staccato of rifle fire as the lizards swarmed the canyon wall. I could see the Priestess’ guards, as well, standing side by side with my goblins, thrusting their heavy spears downward. Several Ifrit hovered nearby, watching, while yet others possessed trap mechanisms or recoilless rifles. Goblins, orcs, fire spirits. Heck, why not add bug people to the mix? Especially ones that produced fine metalwork and lenses? So what if I had to endure a little fortune telling? I didn’t want this telescope to ever leave. At least, not until I could build my own.

“Whatever you need,” I said. “Anything. High ground, materials, builders. Put your observatory here.”

“Truly?” asked the priestess. “You would permit such an installation?”

“I welcome it with open arms,” I said honestly. “Just promise me that I’ll be able to use whatever you build to look at the sky.”

The priestess dipped at the waist, bowing low. Her supplicants straight up prostrated themselves on the dust of the bluff. Even her captain, after a brief moment of shock, got down on one knee and lowered his head.

“I shall send word to my queen that I have perhaps found what she seeks,” said Clathn. “But there are other locations to survey. Other priestesses with whom I must confer. For now, allow me to meditate and rest. I have journeyed long.”

The priestess bowed again and I watched jealously as the telescope was broken down and returned to its protective case. Priestess Clathn once again returned to her palanquin—though I have no idea how the thing could be comfortable for her since it was about a third as tall as she was. The elite captain moved against the door and took position.

I looked up at the captain. “Do you have a name?”

The captain tilted his head. “Instrument. Drone. Protector. No name. Thing.”

“That’s depressing,” I said. I could hear Taquoho’s voice in the back of my head as I said it. Crude and reductive. I wished the Ifrit was here so that I could get his perspective on the midnighters. “Well, nice chat. Talk later.” I waved to the captain, and he tilted his head the other direction before looking at his own palm and replicating the gesture. I turned and headed for the airstrip.

Sourfang hobbled after me. “Hope, I, that this little brother knows of what he is doing. The midnighters are not lightly to be taken.” He spat. “Nor would you, I thought, to be won over by trinkets and baubles.”

“It wasn’t the trinket, Sourtooth. Heck, a few more months and I’ll be able to make a telescope just as powerful.” I shook my head. “No. It was the fact that the first friggen people I’ve met that were interested in space science just knocked on my door and asked to crash on the couch.”