Willful Child

by Steven Erikson

  “Oh, really,” Hadrian said.

  “Psychoactive compounds, Captain,” said Printlip. “I did warn you, yes?”

  “Damn you! I want that hallucination back! Give it back!”

  The multitude of eyes trembled on their stalks. “Alas, Captain, the compounds have been neutralized. Are you not feeling better?”

  “No, I’m feeling worse!” Hadrian pointed at Eden. “Look at him! Aaagh! And look at Sticks! She’s got clothes on—okay, they’re tight-fitting so it’s not so bad, not bad at all, in fact. Why,” he added, stepping forward, “I’d say—”

  She bleated.

  Another puff and wet splotch stopped Hadrian, this time on the other side of his neck. “Now what?”

  “Captain! Inadvertent loss of inhibitions! Treated at the last moment! Whew!”

  “Dammit, Doc, you’re ruining all the fun!” He eyed Sticks and smiled. “There there,” he said, “everything’s fine now. See?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Hadrian sat down in the command chair. “Imagine, a touchy-feely universe. The horror and humiliation of a disapproving look. Why, we’d have to be actually civilized! So, yes, it was momentary insanity. I admit it. But now I’m back in the land of space rage, blasters, and get-outa-my-face obnoxiousness. There’s no place like home, right? Hey,” he gestured Printlip closer and lowered his voice, “Doc—did you run a full analysis of those psychoactive agents?”

  “Of course, Captain. Else I could not have negated their effects.”

  Hadrian leaned closer. “Can you, maybe, replicate that juice? You know, on the sly, as it were. For, uh, educational purposes.”

  Printlip sucked in a huge breath, and then squealed a thin sigh. “There are therapeutic possibilities, I grant you, Captain.”

  “Exactly! For treating traumatic stress and all that, right?”

  “Possibly.”

  “And look at me, Doc. If anyone is at risk of post-traumatic stress disorder, why, it’s the captain of a ship that’s been hijacked by a rogue, possibly insane AI.”

  “Hey!” cried Tammy.

  Printlip tilted closer. “I have been observing you, Captain, with that very thought in mind.”

  “Have you now? Well, turns out we’re on the same page, then. Perfect! So, mix us up a few shots of that stuff, will you? I could do with some R&R, for reason of restoring my psychological balance, and stuff.”

  Printlip raised a few hands. “Provided I can observe in a controlled environment, Captain.”

  “You dirty little—oh, fine, bring the popcorn, what do I care?”

  Tammy spoke, “Captain, it is of course equally conceivable that the Radulak psychoactive compounds initiated in you a perceptual shift that opened the window on a true and viable alternate universe, and indeed that whatever you saw actually persists in a parallel existence.”

  Hadrian whimpered, and then said, “Really, Tammy? Well, I’d say that your theory deserves closer analysis. Much closer. For extended periods of time.”

  “The risk, of course,” Tammy went on, “is when you come face-to-face with your alternate.”

  “But then,” said Hadrian, “I could slip him a cocktail to send him here, couldn’t I?”

  “And risk your ship, Captain?”

  Hadrian leaned back and waved a hand. “Oh, he’d be fine, if a little soppy.”

  Tammy said, “I sense another episode coming on.”

  “Episode?”

  “As you noted earlier, Captain, it truly does seem to be one thing after another with you, doesn’t it? You seem to live a life of episodic incidences.”

  “Do I now? Really? Hey, Tammy, is that your trilobite planet coming up? Wow, what a green, innocent world! Definitely deserves a visit, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Cut it out!” shrieked Tammy.

  But Hadrian leapt to his feet. “Fire up the Insisteon!”

  EiGHTEEN

  Hadrian, Printlip, Galk, and two security officers displaced to find themselves in a grassy meadow, with a range of sun-bleached crags to the left, and a strew of oddly shaped boulders directly ahead, from which thin green-stalked trees rose, fronds waving. To the right was lush jungle, while behind the group the meadow shifted into marsh. The sky was pale blue, the air dry and hot.

  “You know,” said Hadrian as he looked around, “if not for the jungle and those weird trees, this looks just like northern California.”

  Printlip was studying its Pentracorder. “Captain, very high oxygen levels here. We might all begin feeling somewhat inebriated.”

  “Can’t wait to see you get tipsy, Doc,” Hadrian said, eyeing the little round alien. The captain then turned to Galk. “My, that’s an impressive piece you’ve got there. What is it?”

  The combat specialist hefted the massive, multisectioned, globular, shoulder-locked weapon. “This is an Atomic Laser-Attenuated Defensive Interceptor Multiple-Phase-Shield Last-Stand Forlorn Hope, Mark II, sir.”

  “Outstanding, Galk. What does it shoot?”

  “It doesn’t shoot anything, sir. It stops anything from hitting me.”

  “I see. So, I take it, then, that you haven’t got my back.”

  The Varekan frowned. “Good point, sir. I guess I picked wrong again, didn’t I?”

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Hadrian said, turning to his two security officers. “As you can see, my security detail here … well, one of them’s wearing a rapier and the other one appears to have a camera.”

  The woman with the camera strapped round her neck stepped forward. “It’s rapid fire, sir.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Your name?”

  “Nipplebaum, sir. Sally.”

  Hadrian nodded and then eyed the other green-shirted officer. “And you … Lieutenant?”

  The man whipped his rapier from its scabbard and took an en garde stance. “Lieutenant Zulu, sir!” he said in a deep baritone. “Gerald Zulu.”

  “At least,” said Hadrian, “we’ll be safe from pirates.”

  Zulu slumped slightly. “Actually, sir, against cutlasses I’d probably be in trouble.” Then he brightened. “But should we come across a haughty Italian noble from the seventeenth century, sir, I’m your man!”

  Sighing, Hadrian said, “Well, let’s stay optimistic, shall we? This planet’s predators are likely to be of the creepy-crawly kind, with only natural weapons … against which we appear to have no real defense, barring that age-old simian tactic of shrieking flight to the nearest tree. Not that any tree within sight can actually be climbed. But never mind all that! Let’s do what we always do in an unknown, potentially hostile environment—split up! It’s time to explore! Zulu, you and Nipplebaum, head into the jungle. Galk, check out the tops of those crags and get the lay of the land for us. Doc, you and me, we’ll head into that stack of boulders.”

  As the team scattered, Printlip scuttled to keep up with Hadrian as the captain approached the boulders. “Captain, is it not standard protocol to maintain group cohesion while in a potentially hostile environmfbllehh?” Printlip stumbled and sagged against the first boulder. It wheezed in a quick breath. “Sir!”

  Hadrian paused, one hand resting on the bole of a green tree trunk. “What is it, Doc?”

  The Belkri was peering with all its eyes at the Pentracorder. “This boulder, sir! There’s something unusual about its composition. I am detecting gluten, pulp fiber, lead-based pigments…” Printlip then kicked the boulder with one clog. There was a thin, hollow sound. “Captain! This rock is fake!”

  “Really?” Hadrian asked. “I wonder if it’s as fake as this plastic tree here.”

  Zulu communicated via subdural comms. “Captain! Zulu here! This jungle is a scientific marvel! It appears that on this planet, basic plant cellular structure and indeed, chlorophyll, has been replaced by inert polymer compounds! I advise a dedicated science team be sent down here as soon as possible!”

  In reply, Hadrian cleared his throat and said, “Will take that under advisement, Lieutenant. In the meantime,
return to the meadow.”

  Galk reported from the hilltop, “Captain. There is a silo of some sort three hundred meters to the left of your position. No sign of life.”

  “Get down here, Galk. I’ve got a hunch that something’s fishy about this Designated Nature Reserve planet. Just a hunch, mind you. So much for trusting the Klang!” Printlip following, Hadrian returned to the meadow. Moments later Nipplebaum and Zulu stepped out from the jungle and hurried over.

  “Captain!” said Zulu, his rapier waving about alarmingly in one hand. “No trilobites detected yet, sir, but we did see a nematode that was at least twenty centimeters long!”

  “It was dead,” added Nipplebaum.

  Galk eventually arrived, his Forlorn Hope Mark II resting over one shoulder. He spat out a brown stream.

  “All right,” said Hadrian, “this is how it will go. Galk, you take point and lead us to that silo you spotted. Zulu, take up the rear and keep an eye out for anything. Nipplebaum … keep taking pictures. Now, let’s go.”

  They set out.

  At Hadrian’s side, Printlip said, “Captain. This environment bears little resemblance to standard early-period eras on any planet I have heard of. A carboniferous world should be lush, teeming with life, humid.…”

  “That designation was rubbish,” said Hadrian. “The Klang are up to something here. I never trusted the little weasels.”

  “Do you think Tammy is hiding something?”

  “You mean, apart from the location of his on/off switch? Of course he is.”

  “About this planet?”

  “Not sure. But don’t worry, it’ll all spill out eventually, like sleeping with an admiral’s daughter at the officers’ picnic. It’s down to timing, and sometimes, Doc, timing sucks. Sure, Tammy could have refused to displace us, but that would’ve been a big red flag. Besides, we’d then take a Lander.”

  Leaving the fake-boulder, fake-tree area, they emerged onto a stubbly plain. Directly ahead was the silo. “Now,” mused Hadrian, “that thing must be stealthed, or we would have detected it from the preliminary scan of our LZ. Meaning, what’s inside it is probably important, incriminating, if not damning.”

  Nipplebaum shrieked. “Captain! To the east, sir! Trilobites!”

  Hadrian and the others swung round. A swarm of the creatures was fast rushing across the plain, straight toward them, sort of like a knobby, unfolding carpet.

  “I’ll draw their fire,” Galk said, and stepped out toward the horde.

  “Fire?” Hadrian asked. “What fire? Holy crap!”

  The medium-dog-sized trilobites had been scuttling on all their legs, but now they rose upright and pulled out blasters. Arcs of blazing energy lanced out from the foremost trilobites, all converging on Galk.

  The combat specialist’s Forlorn Hope Mark II erupted in a flurry of defraction clouds, screens, shields, mini-missile interceptors, chaff and wedding rice. When all the flashing was done, Galk was still standing.

  “Wow,” said Hadrian. “That’s a damned good gun. Until the enemy arrives to beat you up.”

  The first trilobites mobbed Galk, who vanished beneath the seething mass.

  “To the silo on the double!” Hadrian shouted. “We need cover!”

  Energy blasts whipped past the team as they raced toward the structure.

  “I don’t see any door!” cried Nipplebaum.

  “Go around!” shouted Hadrian. “There’s bound to be one!”

  Printlip was lagging behind, and the captain slowed down, reaching out. “Take my hand, Doc! No, not that—no—that hand!”

  Reaching the smooth-walled silo, Zulu and then Nipplebaum swung to the right, skirting the wall. Zulu frantically swung his rapier at the building. The blade rebounded, slicing into his left shoulder, and then jawline, and then cheek. Voicing little cries of pain, he threw the weapon at the wall. It flew back at him, piercing his right earlobe, cutting his right shoulder, and then sliding down his back.

  Reaching the weeping man even as he fell against the silo wall, Hadrian kicked the rapier away and pulled Zulu to his feet. “Cut it out! I’ve done worse shaving! Go! After Nipplebaum! We’re right behind you.”

  Scores of trilobites had closed the gap. This close to the silo, they’d holstered their blasters.

  “Found it!” shrieked Nipplebaum. “Aaai! It’s only knee high!”

  Hadrian pushed past her and kicked hard against the little door. It sprang open. “Get in!” he told her. “On your knees, woman! Zulu, you’re with me—we’ll hold ’em back. Doc, after Nipplebaum!”

  “I want point!” cried Zulu, dragging at Nipplebaum, who was already halfway through. She kicked, one heel slamming into Zulu’s face. He reeled back. “My eye! My eye!”

  Then Nipplebaum was through. Printlip lunged into the portal and jammed in the aperture. “Oh no! Captain!”

  “Just keep talking, Doc!”

  “Oh, about what?”

  “Anything!”

  “The Belkri sexual practices are wide-ranged and to alien eyes appear perverse in the extreme, with acts involving toasters and brightly colored marbles, which when insertflblbnfn…” Printlip vanished inside.

  Hadrian kicked at Zulu. “Go on, then.”

  “I lost my rapier! I feel drunk, sir! I lose my courage when I’m drunk! I can’t think straight!”

  “Get in there, will you?”

  Blood-smeared and bawling, Zulu crawled through the doorway.

  Back on the plain, the mound on top of where Galk had stood was now three stories high, writhing and seething.

  The first of the nearest trilobites reached Hadrian. He booted the creature in the midsection, sending it flying. Another trilobite lunged close. Hadrian grasped it and threw it away. The others slowed, forming a half circle. Their many arm/legs waved about menacingly. Their segmented antennae trembled.

  Hadrian leapt forward, kicking and punching. Trilobites flew back, tumbled, a number of them landing on their backs, where they struggled hopelessly, limbs waving about. The others shrank back in evident alarm, making squeaking sounds. Hadrian dragged one upturned trilobite close and pulled its blaster free of the holster.

  He started shooting.

  Shards of exoskeleton spun in the air. Blobs of what looked like crab meat splatted onto the ground. Segmented arms and legs flew and then fell to the sward, where they twitched.

  From behind Hadrian, Printlip shouted, “Captain! We’re all inside! We have the means to block the doorway—hurry!”

  Hadrian fired off a few more bolts, admiring how the shattered bodies exploded and twisted in the air, and then he spun round and dropped down, squirming his way through the doorway.

  Inside, a soft ambient light filtered down from the semitranslucent domed ceiling. As Hadrian scrambled into the center of the chamber, he saw stacks of modular crates ringing the walls, along with a podium-style computer command station directly ahead. Zulu and Nipplebaum had found a heavy crate, which they slid across the gritty floor to block the door.

  Straightening, Hadrian stepped to the command station and studied the layout. “Ah, here. Klang displacement controls. Countermeasures antidetection field. Breach alarm indicator, blinking, transponder activated. Looks like we kicked the ant nest.”

  They all turned at a steady knocking from the door. Hadrian hurried over.

  Zulu bellowed, “Who’s there?”

  “Move the damned crate,” Hadrian said. “Trilobites don’t knock.”

  The two security officers slid the obstacle to one side. Galk’s hands appeared at the opening, pushing through first his weapon, and then an inert trilobite. At a laconic pace, the combat specialist followed.

  Moments later, Galk was standing before Hadrian, while the crate was pushed back across the doorway. Printlip hurried up to the Varekan.

  “Injuries, Lieutenant?”

  Galk shook his head. “Shields held, Doctor. Death by swarm averted. My pointless existence must perforce continue for at least the immediate future.�
�� He then gestured down at the dead trilobite. “Might want to scan this critter.”

  Printlip’s eye stalks made circular motions. “Scan? Oh, of course! By the unusual behavior of these crustaceans, you perhaps suspect genetic manipulation?”

  Galk turned his head and spat out a brown stream. “They had blasters, Doctor. And, if you look carefully, you’ll see codpieces … but no genitalia.”

  “Hmm? How curious.” Printlip crouched down beside the carcass and activated its Pentracorder.

  Hadrian strode to the nearest crate. “Lots of stealth involved for this warehouse—I bet what’s in these things is a political time bomb. We could finally blow open the Klang Conspiracy, thus altering the course of civilized evolution in the entire galaxy!”

  “What conspiracy, sir?” Nipplebaum asked.

  He looked up from examining the latches on the crate’s lid. She was standing across from him, her face flushed, her eyes fixing on his with an intensity that made Hadrian want to kick the crate to one side, reach out, and pull her into his arms. “Hey, Doc?”

  “Captain?”

  “You sure you treated me on that whole loss of inhibitions thing?”

  “Absolutely, sir. But recall the high oxygen level in this atmosphere and the slightly intoxicating effects thefblllbrr…”

  “Right. Got it.” Still staring at Nipplebaum, he saw that her face was now glowing, and the intensity was giving way to something … looser, almost reckless. Hadrian looked around, but saw nowhere remotely private. Sighing, he shook his head and said, “That conspiracy theory, Lieutenant Nipplebaum, is still classified. Suffice to say the Terran Wing of Intelligence at Terra’s Affiliation HQ has always had its suspicions about the Klang.”

  Printlip rose from its crouch beside the trilobite. “Exo-sociobiological position holds that Klang submission behavior is within expected parameters.” The Belkri drew a quick breath and continued, “Notions of conspiracy are something we Belkri consider unfndbrllrb.”