by Roxie Ray
“So what do we do now?”
“We find a suit of armor for you, so you'll be properly equipped to save your parents from Torqa.” I gestured to the rows of body armor hanging from racks.
Slowly, achingly, Judy pulled her body away from mine and walked over to the racks. She carefully inspected each set of armor. They were lightweight, durable, flexible. They were the pinnacle of bleeding-edge Valkredian war tech.
Yet she didn't seem particularly impressed by any of them.
Instead, she pushed one of the racks aside, revealing a humanoid-sized pod with a panel of tinted glass. “What's in here?” she asked.
I walked over to it, frowning. How strange that she would find this particular relic… that it would call out to her when the other items didn't.
Then again, maybe it was fate.
I pressed a button on the side of the pod, and the tinted glass turned clear, revealing an ornate ceremonial suit of crimson armor. The shoulders, breastplate, and helmet were all fashioned to resemble the snarling faces of the Succubi of legend. The arms and legs were lined with thorn-like barbs, and the gauntlets sported rows of nasty-looking claws.
She gasped, putting a hand on the glass. “It's beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” I conceded. “Functional as well. Heavier by far than these other bodysuits, but able to withstand much more punishment from blasters and concussive devices. The gauntlets contain high-capacity batteries, in order to instantly recharge weaponry. There are even repulsor rockets in the boots, allowing the wearer to fly short distances without the use of wings, which would normally be weighed down by the dense metals.”
Judy examined the lines of the armor curiously. “It looks like it was designed for a woman to wear.”
“Not just any woman. This was Torqa's armor.”
Her eyes widened – but before she could ask any more questions, the ship's alarm blared.
“We're under attack,” I snarled, hitting the release button to open the pod. “We might have to fight off a boarding party. Quick, put the armor on and meet me on the command deck.”
I ran to the deck, where the rest of the crew was waiting along with Respen.
“Is it Torqa?” I asked.
Surge shook his head, pointing at the view screen. “Not quite. Look.”
Something was approaching us from the asteroid belt. At first, it appeared to be a glittering cloud of swirling space dust. But as it got closer, I started to understand exactly how much danger we were in. It was a swarm of insectile creatures roughly half the size of humanoids. They resembled misshapen metallic scarabs, with multi-jointed arms, pincers, and gnashing mandibles jutting out from their bodies in all directions.
And by the stars, there were thousands of them.
Judy ran in, dressed in the scarlet armor she'd chosen. If the others were surprised by what she was wearing, they gave no sign. She stared at the view screen, confused. “What are those?”
“Branborgs,” Thezis croaked.
“Brain-like, space-dwelling organisms that feed on metals,” Vahmi said. He sounded like he was about to faint from panic. “They reproduce at alarming rates, and use the ferrous materials they consume to build themselves new carapaces. We've never had reports of them in this sector before, though.”
“Torqa must have tracked their migration to this asteroid belt,” Surge growled. “She's led us into a trap after all. Our ship will be chewed into parts, and she won't have to lift a finger.”
“Open fire!” I ordered. “Full spread, pulse mortars and plasma cannons!”
“We can't possibly take out all of them.” Thezis was already pushing buttons on the tactical console.
“No, but we can thin them out a little and try to buy ourselves some time,” I insisted.
Lasers lanced out from the Wrath's weapons systems, cutting swathes through the swarm and incinerating a third of them. Our explosive charges thumped and boomed in their midst, frying another third of the damnable creatures.
But the remaining third continued toward us implacably, attaching themselves to our hull. Within seconds, we heard terrible sounds of scraping and ripping and chewing coming from all around us.
“They're tearing the ship apart!” Vahmi yelped.
As if on cue, the picture on the view screen fizzled, and then cut out.
“Weapons systems are gone,” Thezis confirmed. “Forward shield generators are out, and they're moving on to the rear ones. Bulkhead density is already down by fourteen percent. We're looking at a hull breach in about ninety seconds.”
“Is there any way we can re-route all available power to the stellar deflectors?” I asked. “Maybe we can use the energy from the engine core to zap them, so they'll leave us alone.”
Thezis shook his head grimly. “Half our deflectors have already been eaten. The remaining ones won't send out enough of a charge to do much more than tickle the little bastards.”
“No, no, no,” Judy muttered under her breath. “It can't end like this.”
Suddenly, I had an idea. “It doesn't have to. Respen, you told us that your people are able to channel almost limitless amounts of raw elemental power, is that right?”
Respen tilted his head. “It's not quite as simple as that. There are certain rituals involved, and we have to be situated close to a naturally-occurring source of such energies…”
“Then say the magic words, stand on your head, do whatever it takes to reach out and find those energies, and release them at the Branborgs!” I commanded. “Or else we'll all be floating home without space suits!”
Respen sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes. “Very well. I shall do my best.”
He moved his long fingers through the air in arcane patterns – creating glowing afterimages that formed complex, interlocking geometric shapes. As he did, he moved his lips, sounding out a series of spells. The glow in his skin grew brighter with each passing second.
“Bulkhead density down by sixty percent,” Thezis said. “Shields gone, propulsion systems scrapped.”
Suddenly, Respen's eyes snapped open and a blinding white light shone from them, filling the entire command deck. I could feel the heat of the energy blazing from him in intense waves, burning my hair and skin. The entire ship shuddered, and I briefly worried that my plan had been flawed – that the power radiating from Respen would blast what was left of the Wrath into pieces, finishing the Branborgs' work for them.
But when the light faded – leaving me disoriented, with harsh lights dancing in front of my eyes – the Wrath was still intact. The gnawing sounds stopped abruptly.
“Did it work?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” Vahmi replied. “They ate through all our diagnostic systems, so there's no way to scan for them. But… yes, it seems like they've stopped trying to eat us.”
“I can sense their hive mind.” Respen sounded feeble, and his skin wasn't glowing anymore. His eyes were cloudy as well. I'd never seen a Lunian in such a weakened state before – it seemed as though generating all that energy had taken a lot out of him. “They now perceive us as a threat, and are indeed moving away from our position in search of alternate sources of metal.”
“It looks like your presence on this mission might just prove useful after all,” I said, walking over to him and clapping him on the shoulder.
He winced visibly. “So it would seem. However, you should know that if I attempt to use my abilities that hastily again, without the proper preparation or regard for the rituals required, the effort may cost me my life.”
I was tempted to joke that such an outcome would be an added bonus as far as I was concerned – but looking at the Lunian's wizened face, I almost felt sorry for him.
“We're not out of danger yet,” Vahmi pointed out. “We're floating dead in space, with no way to defend ourselves if Torqa's people show up.”
“And again,” Thezis grumbled, “with that cloak of theirs, for all we know, they could already be parked right next to us.”
> “Since we're still alive, we'll have to assume that's not the case,” I said. “Vahmi, based on our last known coordinates, what's the closest inhabited area?”
“The Drekkir home world,” he answered without hesitation.
“Is there any way for us to manually repair our short-range propulsion systems so we can make it there?”
“Possibly,” Vahmi mused. “If I can re-route some of the primary conduits from the trans-warp engines. But it'll take at least six hours.”
“You've got two. Make it happen.” I turned to Thezis. “Meanwhile, I want you to come up with something, anything, that will function as a defensive system in case we're attacked. I don't care if you have to tie our remaining mortars to tables and chairs and blast them out of airlocks, just get it done. I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and hope we're left alone out here.”
Thezis nodded briskly.
“And what can I do?” Judy asked.
“Pray to whatever gods you believe in that the Drekkir are willing to help us when we get there,” I told her. “Their people can be somewhat distrustful of other races, and we don't exactly have a lot to offer them in exchange.”
11
Judy
Even once the view screen had been repaired, the images on it were muddy and pixelated. Surge had done his best with the resources that were available to him, but he was a warrior, not a technician, and most of the worthy tools had already been commandeered by Vahmi and Thezis for their own work.
As the Wrath dragged itself to the Drekkir planet, I was left with nothing to do but watch the Valkredians work around me and try not to think about what had almost happened between us when he was teaching me how to hold the sonic pike. The way he'd held his body so close to mine. The desire that had radiated from him, like energy throbbing from an engine core.
And that kiss we'd shared… he'd clearly tried to fight his impulses, and lost. His need to touch me, to taste me on his lips, had been too strong to deny.
He wanted me.
Not only that – he was having as hard a time fighting his emotions as I was.
He was such a disciplined taskmaster, and he'd fought so hard against the idea of bringing me along on this mission. I'd thought it was just because he doubted my abilities as a warrior. But what if it was more than that? What if he was worried that his own defenses would break down – that he'd be too caught up in his feelings for me to do his duty as a soldier?
It was almost unthinkable that someone so battle-hardened, with so much self-control, could be so enchanted with the idea of having me as a mate that he'd be at risk of becoming distracted by it.
Had I made a mistake in coming after all? In my determination to see my parents rescued, had I placed the mission on which their salvation depended in danger?
No, I decided. I couldn't afford to think that way. As I'd said on Valkred, it was my duty to see to their rescue personally, not to delegate it to others.
Still, I couldn't help but admit to myself now that it was more than that. That the truth was, I also hadn't wanted to be apart from Dhimurs so soon after having him enter my life again.
My emotions were so tangled and confused that I was relieved when, after a few hours, the Drekkir home world appeared – painfully slowly, thanks to our damaged engines. It resembled a tiny blue and white marble, surrounded by an array of satellites, small orbital stations, and defense platforms.
I'd seen plenty of Drekkir miners and traders during my time on Cexiea, smudged with soot and pushing huge hover-carts filled with minerals they'd extracted and processed from their planet and the surrounding asteroid fields. Theirs was a highly commercialized society – buying, selling, and bartering were extremely ritualized, and practically religious experiences to them.
They were short, strange, furry creatures, with stubby limbs and big, bulging dark eyes. Oddly, they reminded me of the terriers I saw on Earth as a little girl, before I’d been captured with my birth mother. I'd never been able to make out what the Drekkir were saying – their language was a series of incomprehensible high-pitched chirps. Now that I'd been outfitted with a universal translator, I looked forward to understanding them more clearly.
When we got close enough for them to contact us, our failing comm system let out a lilting bleep, and a seated Drekkir appeared on the screen. His fur was mottled brown and white, and he wore a flowing golden cloak and a gilded headpiece. He spoke, and it took a tremendous amount of effort for me to keep from letting out a nervous giggle – even though I could make out the words, they still came out in the same squeaky tone.
“I am Bek, assistant to the First Minister of the Drekkir,” he began in a querulous tone. “Whatever was powerful enough to reduce the flagship of the vaunted Valkredian fleet to a floating pile of garbage, please tell me you were not foolish enough to lead it to our doorstep.”
“I am General Dhimurs of the Valkredian military,” Dhimurs replied, “and you have my personal assurance that we have not placed you in any danger by coming here. We were attacked by a swarm of Branborgs. We had no knowledge of their migration to the Di'Previi belt, so we were unprepared for them.”
“Oh ho! 'Unprepared,' were you?” Bek leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and chortled, clearly pleased to hear of our folly. “We have been prepared for the Branborgs' migration for some time, which is why we set up sonic buoys at our borders to keep them at bay. But then, why should the mighty Valkred Empire concern themselves with the day-to-day happenings of the lowly Drekkir system?”
Dhimurs' hands were balled into fists, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that I could see the muscles in his face twitching. Still, he managed to keep his tone deferential. “You are correct in pointing out that we have been… remiss in our attentions to your corner of the galaxy, and for that, I apologize on behalf of Blood Ruler Akzun and Valkred as a whole. We are currently on a mission of vital importance…”
“Something involving this Torqa situation, no doubt?” Bek guessed smugly. “Yes, your leader contacted our First Minister for assistance with this problem rather recently. So much time, so many attempts by your best and brightest to bring her to justice – and still, she remains at large.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue chidingly.
I could practically hear Dhimurs grinding his teeth with rage. I could only imagine the fantasies that he was entertaining of reaching through the view screen, wrapping his long white fingers around Bek's furry throat, and throttling the Drekkir until his tongue lolled out.
Still, I couldn't exactly say I was surprised by Bek's behavior. The Drekkir were a race of peddlers – most civilized cultures did business with them regularly, and they were an important element of the galactic economy, but they weren't particularly feared or respected the way that the Valkredians and other war-waging species were.
So naturally, Bek was relishing this chance to lord his sudden importance over a military hero like Dhimurs.
If we hadn't just been through such a harrowing experience with the Branborgs – and if I hadn't been so worried about my parents – I'd probably have found it quite funny.
“Yes. Torqa.” Dhimurs' words came in sharp, bitter grunts. “We are in pursuit of her, and the two Macurian tribal leaders she has absconded with. If you will assist us with the repairs to our vessel, and allow us to remain with you until we're in a position to resume our mission, you will have the gratitude of both Valkred and Macur.”
“Ahh, gratitude,” Bek sighed. “Yes. Gratitude is indeed a fine thing. But if I were to put gratitude in a five-rula bucket and try to sell it, do you know what price I'd get?”
“No.” From his tone, Dhimurs knew damn well, but he also knew he had to go along with Bek's little joke to try to get what he wanted.
“Five rula. Maybe three, since now it's a used bucket.” Bek chuckled.
“You're thinking of this all wrong, friend,” Dhimurs said. “This isn't a transaction…”
“Everything in this universe i
s a transaction,” Bek corrected him immediately. “That's a fundamental truth that all Drekkir learn by the time their fur grows in.”
“Very well. Then you're thinking of this specific 'transaction' in very limited terms. Your assistance with regard to repairs and lodging now buys you safety from Torqa later on. I don't know what you've heard or how much you know, but this isn't just about her personal payback against the Mana anymore. She's gone insane. She's set her sights on ruling the entire galaxy, and I can assure you, the Drekkir system will be included in those plans. We're the only thing that stands in her way. So you see, helping us stop her will benefit you in the long run.”
“A compelling sales pitch, to be sure,” Bek mused. “Then again, coming from a crew whose ship was just used as a buffet by Branborgs – essentially a swarm of mindless vermin – your whole 'saviors of the universe' line is a bit tough to swallow. If you were to supplement that with, say, a generous donation to our planet…”
“How generous?” Dhimurs' pale face was growing redder by the moment.
“Two million rula,” Bek answered without hesitation.
“That's a preposterous amount, and you know it.”
“Is it? Really?” Based on the sound of Bek's voice, it sounded like he'd been waiting for Dhimurs to say that very thing.
Bek made a great show of producing a data pad and pushing a button on it, consulting the screen. “Let's see here. It appears as though Akzun paid a quarter of a million rula to Nos some time ago, in order to purchase a human female to satisfy his… personal appetites. And oh, look here, what is this? His brother Zark spent that very same amount a short while later, in order to secure a human consort of his own! Fascinating! Well, if the Valkredian government is willing to casually toss half a million rula away on a couple of Earthling slatterns – no offense intended to the present company, of course,” he added, glancing in my direction, “then given the high stakes you've outlined, two million rula seems like a perfectly reasonable sum in exchange for our help, wouldn't you agree?”