Translation: Part 1
This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.
Horva ith Irnwuld stared over the darkened forest at the distant horizon of the Maldadori Gap. The fog was dark with a hint of green, and the air was sour in the nostrils, the familiar signs of Hive industry. The scientists called it terraforming, but Horva had fought Hive infestation for years, and had seen the devastation left after the Hive moved on. It wasn’t terraforming, it was digestion.
She had grown used to the smell, though she was not proud of the fact. Her expertise had come at the cost of thousands of good men and women. If their charge were correct, if there really some way to end the fighting…
At first she had been skeptical. No, that was selling it short; at first she had been dismissive. Their own war-scientists had been studying the Hive for decades, and every report had been the same; they were highly advanced animals, acting on instinct and emergent hive-behavior. They communicated mostly through pheromones and growls, and there were no signs of sentience, let alone sapience, in individual beings.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about the battle at Khun-Lan, when their lines had been broken by a swarm of warriors. She had watched as they clashed with her soldiers, how they moved and reacted. She remembered how the last one behaved before it died, how its movements suddenly reeked of desperation. A scientist would surely have called it instinct, reflexive and emotionless, but Horva was a soldier; she knew what fear looked like.
Ultimately it didn’t matter. She was a soldier, and she had been assigned to escort and advisor duty. She would protect her charge and provide insight into the Hive’s behavior to the best of her ability regardless of her own feelings, conflicted as they were.
“Champion!” A voice called from behind her, “There’s been an altercation in the camp! Lord-Champion Ranthar demands your presence!”
Horva sighed as she turned and waved to the runner, acknowledging and dismissing in a single gesture. She had spent years fighting the Hive, while Ranthar oth Skulven had spent most of his career clashing with the DAO Union. As conflicted as she was, she could only imagine how difficult it was for him to protect one of them. She had often wondered if that was a secondary reason for her appointment to this assignment; to play mediator.
She turned to the overlook once more, soaking in one last view of the forest below. If they failed, it would be the last time those trees would be seen by any living thing.
Ranthar oth Skulven didn’t rise to the rank of Lord-Champion because he was rash. He hadn’t succeeded in so many campaigns because he was quick to anger or acted without careful consideration. He was a cold and calculating soldier, because if he wasn’t, people died.
Well…the wrong people died, he thought with a morbid sense of satisfaction. If he ever got off this rock and back onto the front lines, he swore he would find a way to ‘accidentally’ open fire on as many automated DAO cargo haulers that he could.
“No, Sage Lot’nek,” his voice sounded strained and thin to his ears, “it is an insult; one that your soldier must apologize for.”
“Stupid,” the DAO’s strange lips fumbled over the dwarven language. “Ask is insult? How dwarf learn?”
Ranthar cast his eyes over the motley assemblage around them. Three squads of dwarven soldiers were listening intently to the conversation, along with a squad of DAO warriors, flanked by one of their large battle-suits. It was a tense situation — had been a tense situation for several weeks now — and it could boil over at any moment. Damn it, I’m no diplomat. I’m a fighter!
“I see peace-talks are going well?” The syrupy voice of Champion Horva drifted through the air. Ranthar raised his hand in apology to the DAO sage before meeting her advance and speaking in a low voice:
“Champion Horva, you’re supposed to be mediator for this operation; please tell our distinguished guests that if they don’t like the protection we’re giving them, then they can take their rusty machines and kick off back to the Union!” the dwarf pointed a slab of a hand in Lot’nek’s direction. “My dwarves are willing to die to protect those skinny asses, and I won’t have anyone disrespecting them or their skill!”
His piece said, he tipped his head back and took a deep breath. Horva gave a low chuckle. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“They’re going to kill us.” One of the DAO escort muttered behind Lot’nek’s back.
“They’re going to try…” another grinned.
“Enough!” Sage Lot’nek chastised xer guard. “I have given you your orders: no speaking in our own language around the dwarves!” It was a minor gesture, designed to help the dwarves feel comfortable around their former foes. It hadn’t been strictly adhered to — as evidenced by the current situation — but Lot’nek had been certain the gesture would be noticed and appreciated.
If it had been, xey dreaded the thought that these dwarves could be less welcoming.
Lot’nek felt some relief at seeing Champion Horva approach. She was a dwarf who seemed interested in the DAO, or at least was willing to try and understand them. As a sage, Lot’nek never understood the dwarven instinct to act without complete understanding. Perhaps that was why xey were a sage and not a soldier.
Champion Horva broke off her conversation with the other dwarf and approached, a broad smile on her face. “I perceive that talks-that-will-lead-to-peace are progressing as smoothly as I could expect,” she said in her clumsy attempt at DAO-speak. It had been endearing at first, a similar sign of good-faith, but over time it had become…tiring.
Lot’nek tried to smile in welcome. “I am currently not authorized to engage in peace-talks.” Xe raised a hand as Horva opened her mouth; “Ah, yes. We both know this, which means you were making a joke. Forgive me, I am still unused to dwarven humor.”
“I don’t understand what previous events occurred in this location,” Horva laboriously explained while Lot’nek waited patiently. “If I could hear from your own lips what has transpired, I might be able to explain and diffuse the situation.”
“Yes,” Lot’nek gave a gentle nod. “It seems my escorts were eating while discussing this operation. Three dwarves approached and demanded to know what they were talking about. One escort took the opportunity to question your soldiers experience in fighting the Hive. The dwarves then attacked my escort, without provocation, as you can see.”
“Might you direct me towards which soldiers were the ones that approached your soldiers?”
“Yes,” xey raised a hand. “It was that one, that —”
Champion Horva’s hand shot out, grabbing the DAO’s wrist and pulling it down to their side with surprising strength. “Toh…you…/do not/ want to point like that.”
Lot’nek stared at the dwarf’s face. A brief glance at Ranthar confirmed that both of the dwarves were seething. Curious, xe thought. They appear to attach some emotional weight to certain gestures. “Am I correct that pointing with a single finger is considered rude in your culture?”
“Rude?” The Champion’s breathing was slowly steadying. “It is entirely within the realm of possibility. In fact, there are not many gestures that carry worse weight.”
“I understand,” Lot’nek gave a gentle nod as xe extracted xer hand from Horva’s grip. “That is why dwarves point with your whole hand. We had not been told the alternatives were insulting. I presume, then, my escort was pointing at your soldiers and they took offense. Please accept both my and my escort’s heartfelt apology.”
Horva translated Lot’nek’s words to Ranthar, who responded in a gruff and grating dwarven: “Let all of us present hear it from her own lips, if you are speaking the truth. And let us all also remember the insult of asking after my soldier’s experience. Are they also going to receive a heartfelt apology for that?”
Lot’nek politely waited for the laborious translation to come from Horva. Dwarven-speak was one of the most illogical languages xey had ever learned. How could any species communicate like this?
“You mean ‘public apology?’” Lot’nek switched from DAO to Dwarven. “We briefed on process. I willing to perform duty on escort’s behalf.”
Horva took her cue from the Sage and responded in kind. “I’m sure that will be acceptable,” she shot a look at Ranthar, who gave a sullen nod.
“Must question,” Lot’nek said, “at risk of more insult, how dwarves get information without insult? Dwarves not allowed to question?”
Horva thought for a moment, parsing the DAO’s strange understanding of Dwarf-speak. “Can I ask…What were the exact words your escort happened to say?”
A brief conversation in DAO was held before Lot’nek answered; “She say; ‘we question your army’s skill.’”
Horva grimaced. She hadn’t joined the Guild to be a schoolteacher. “The…connotations of that word are…look, if she didn’t doubt that our soldiers have experience and skill, then she should have ‘asked’ about their experience. If you ‘question’ something, you doubt that it’s true.”
Horva could tell that Lot’nek was struggling to hide xer frustration. After a moment xey turned to Ranthar. “I see. Please forgive poor understanding of language. We… asks your troops experience with Hive. Vital to know if met Hive before. Again, no wish insult.”
Ranthar was biting his lip, a sure sign Horva had come to recognize of trying to stay calm. “The bulk of our forces are recent recruits and infantry. Our Guilds have deployed most of our experienced troops in more active theatres of battle.”
“Logical,” Lot’nek nodded. “You say ‘bulk’ of force. Some experienced?”
“All of our squad-sergeants have at least one confirmed engagement with the Hive. Champion Horva has been in over twenty-nine active engagements with the Hive over twenty years.”
“Though from what we hear,” Horva piped up, “your machine means there won’t be any fighting, right? That it’s going to turn them off?”
Lot’nek stared at the dwarves before opening xer arms. “Turn off? No. End war. Kill all Hive.”
“The whole infestation?” Horva blinked. To push the Hive off the planet would ordinarily be a massive undertaking. Did the DAO seriously mean to suggest that their machine could do the same?"
“No,” Lot’nek smiled. “Entire Hive. All.”
“Respected Sage?”
Lot’nek looked up from their console into the face of the young escort who had caused all the trouble. “Yes?”
“I wish to apologize.”
“No need,” Lot’nek waved the escort away. “I have studied dwarves for many years, and I might have insulted them thusly. You may return to your meal.”
The escort didn’t move.
Lot’nek looked up again. Something was wrong; her face was a mask of uncertainty and concern. “A question?”
“A question,” the escort nodded. “I…speak some dwarven.”
“Enough to insult them,” Lot’nek smiled, “I am well aware. And?” Understanding came in a flash. Lot’nek lowered their console to the table next to their plate. “You heard what I said to Champion Horva.”
“Yes,” the escort shifted uncomfortably. Lot’nek could understand; questioning came easy to the DAO — a holdover from when their liege and master could give you satisfactory answers in nanoseconds — but you never questioned their judgment. Of all the questions in the DAOU, the only one you couldn’t ask was “why?”
How fast our people have changed. Lot’nek leaned back in xer seat, looking the escort in the eye. “It is possible the dwarves will not share our Prime-Sages’ judgment. They may see this as a betrayal. It serves our success to mislead them about our true goal.”
“A lie?” Again, that discomfort. Lies were abominations in the DAOU, literally unthinkable when their mechanical masters were in charge. Indeed, a lie had been the impetus for the sages to join the revolution.
“A misdirection,” Lot’nek answered. Xey could have continued, but they were curious how far the escort was willing to question. Was she satisfied as a soldier, or was she interested in becoming a sage? How many cultural taboos were going to be challenged tonight?
As it turned out, she had no such aspirations. Drawing herself upright, she spoke in a clear and precise voice. “Respected Sage, I have an observation. I have seen the dwarves dance, so it is no surprise that they equate movement to emotion, but they appear either unwilling or unable to regulate this equation to dance alone. One could say that their every movement is a kind of dance.”
A simple observation, but insightful. It was endearing. “Well spotted. Continue observing them. Have you found any candidates for the forward position?”
“Possibly,” the escort answered. “The soldier Squad-Sergeant Wythe. I overheard him talking with his squad during their meal. He was quite loud and didn’t know I understood some dwarf-speak.”
Lot’nek leaned forward, studying the escort carefully. “Some. Are you certain you translated properly?”
“Yes,” the escort’s lips twisted as they repeated in dwarf-speak; “‘I caution you all from,’ something I didn’t catch, ‘beware the hook-headed soul-stealers.’”
Lot’nek sighed in relief. “Excellent. You have earned a commendation for this. Now you may return to your meal.”
With a steady salute, the escort withdrew, leaving Lot’nek with xer thoughts.
“You want who?” Ranthar held out his hand to the sage, waving for the console.
Lot’nek handed the small screen to him after a brief pause. “Squad-Sergeant Wythe. He by me during operation. Good idea.”
“I think you should reconsider,” Horva jumped in before Ranthar could tell the DAO sage exactly what he thought of this ‘good idea.’ “Sergeant Wythe is a good man, and he has volunteered for this mission, but he’s seen more action with the Hive than most.”
“Experience,” Lot’nek gave a nod. “Bad?”
Ranthar leaned forward. “He’s particularly…devoted to his aggression. If your plan — as it seems to — requires restraint, it might be wiser to keep him in the rear lines.”
“Maybe right,” Lot’nek pointed at the screen with all of xer fingers, “Dwarves not always follow orders. Undisciplined. Yes?”
“Listen here you —” Ranther stood up with his fists clenched before Horva grabbed his arm.
“He will follow his orders,” Horva said choosing her words with care, “but it is the job of each Champion to know which orders are easy or difficult for their soldiers to follow. Other soldiers will find the task easier than Wythe will.” She let Ranthar’s arm go. “It’s more efficient.”
The DAO Sage stared at the console for a moment and then gave a small nod. “Need expert who knows Hive behavior. Front line experience. Who better than Wythe? Suggestion; ask Wythe. Abide by his choice.”
Damn it, Ranthar sat down again, shooting Horva a look that told her exactly what he expected Wythe’s choice to be. “Very well. Now, back to the details of what exactly your squad will be doing.” He glanced over Lot’nek’s shoulder at the large mass of metal cylinders and thick cloth-coated wires. “We’ve not got a satisfactory explanation about how this thing works. Are we going to have to send in troops after you turn it on, or is it going to just kill them all in one go?”
“All die,” Lot’nek answered, blinking slowly. “Soldiers not need to do anything.”
“Unless something goes wrong,” Horva crossed her arms. “Okay, what’s it’s range? I don’t suppose it’ll clean the whole planet in one go.”
“Not far,” Lot’nek answered. “Kill local Hive, Hive Lord need be in range. Fifty your yards.”
“Fifty yards?” Horva coughed in shock. “The Hive won’t let us get within a hundred and fifty of the Hive Lord without tearing us to shreds!”
“Yes,” Lot’nek answered. “A problem. One experienced soldier might shed light on?” Their head cocked in a frighteningly dwarven pose, urging Horva to answer.
Horva rolled her head back, her long hair almost touching her heels. After a moment, she looked back at the machine. “How portable can you make it?”
“None. Wait, please. Translating.” The sage held up a hand and thought for a moment. “Very and no. Main part of machine is code and data. Machine runs anywhere in thousand yards, easy to move. Sub-resonator small, can’t move. Squad stands at sub-resonator, needs careful placement and burying linked transmitters in equidistant —”
“Then we need to get the Hive Lord to come to us,” Horva interrupted, looking down at the table. The map was old, but easily readable. “We need to find a location outside their strongest defenses. We need to threaten them enough to send the Hive Lord…” She drummed her fingers on the table. This would be tricky. They had inexperienced soldiers and only a few DAO battle suits. The Hive tended towards skirmishing tactics when defending itself, pulling back and striking again later or elsewhere. Then it would harry them, whittling away their numbers and supplies with minimal expenditure of effort. If the Hive was going to send its Lord, they needed to keep all their troops alive and fortifying a single position…
“Here,” Horva pointed. “This will be Site A. You can set up your machine and we can fortify this position with the bulk of our forces. We must present ourselves as an overwhelming force, capable of crushing any small squad of troops.”
“I don’t like that word ‘present,’” Ranthar frowned, “much less the idea of devoting a large number of troops to scaring a bunch of weak grunts.”
“They don’t scare,” Horva replied. “And it won’t matter how many we bring; if we had a thousand and they had one, that one would try to kill as many of us as it could. Instead, we establish sites B, C, and D,” she pointed. “We have half-squads at each location who will engage the Hive to provoke a reaction. When the Hive reacts, they must defend themselves and withdraw to the previous Site.”
“What?” Ranthar slapped his fist on the table. “You want us to engage the Hive where they’re weakest only to withdraw?”
“Yes,” Lot’nek leaned over the map. “Your confusion same Hive feel.”
“Confused animals are dangerous,” Horva grunted, crossing her arms. “I don’t even know if they can be confused the way you mean it. All the same, if the Hive knows we’re there with a powerful force and not attacking, they’ll either want to know more or assume we’re planning to mount a high-scale assault. If we’re lucky, the Hive-Lord will show up to join in the fighting.” She looked up from the map. “Then it’s up to your machine. If it doesn’t work, we’re falling back. Even with all of your forces and ours combined, we don’t have enough troops or arms to defend against this whole Hive if it decides to wipe us out.”
“No concern. Plan suitable.” Lot’nek collected their things. “I will speak to my soldiers.”
Ranthar waited for the sage to walk a fair distance away before pulling Horva aside. “have you ever known a DAO to ever give up efficiency for the sake of ‘what a soldier wants?’”
“I’m not as experienced as you,” Horva shrugged. “I’m the Hive expert, remember?” She stared at the retreating DAO and scratched her chin. “It certainly felt odd. Do you think there’s more to this than they’re saying?”
“There’s always more to the DAO than what you see,” Ranthar sneered. “I’ve fought them for years and I tell you, I still don’t understand what’s going on inside their heads. Don’t be fooled, just because they can speak dwarven like a toddler doesn’t mean they understand how we think.”
“I’ll admit,” Horva gave a grin, “I’ve always wondered why you never learned DAO-speak yourself. With what I wouldn’t give to be able to understand the Hive, why not get all the information you can?”
Rantar turned to Horva with cold clear eyes. “I know all I need to know about the DAO. I’ve spent years watching them kill our people. Don’t forget, Champion; just because you can speak DAO doesn’t mean you understand DAO.”