Ignotus

by Kevin Hardman

  Still absorbing what he’d just heard, Maker stepped towards Skullcap.

  “What exactly are you up to?” Maker demanded.

  “It is difficult to explain,” Skullcap offered, “but I would ask that you trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Maker scoffed. “You’ve done nothing but scheme deviously from day one. You’ve got some sort of ploy going right now, although I can’t see what your endgame is. But you know what? I don’t need to. We’re leaving.”

  “If you leave now, your companion will never visit the Senu G’Rung,” Skullcap stated. “There is much he could learn there, I’m sure you’d agree. So you must ask yourself, are you willing to trust me, for his sake?”

  Maker looked at Erlen. The Niotan had complete faith in him – trusted his judgment, trusted his choices. Trusted that Maker would always have his best interests at heart.

  Maker sighed, then gave Skullcap a pointed stare. “Okay, we’ll stay, but the minute anything looks off, I’m blowing your brains out.”

  “I would expect no less from you,” Skullcap acknowledged.

  The insectoid’s comment prompted Maker to say more, but before he could speak, Brzaka appeared to come out of her daze.

  “The Synod have conferenced on this issue,” she said. “The general feeling is that you, Commander Vuqja, have fulfilled the terms of your obligation but not the spirit thereof. However, it cannot be said that you have failed or been untrue to your word. Thus, the Synod will reward you as promised.”

  Brzaka held out a hand, and something like a spear came flying at her from one of the seated Vacra. She caught it without even looking, revealing the object to be a metal staff. It was presumably made of some precious ore or alloy, and engraved from top to bottom with complex and elaborate designs.

  “Commander Vuqja,” Brzaka said in a stern tone, “you are hereby declared Zirxen and granted the status and rights of that title for all the days of your life.”

  She held the staff out to Skullcap, and he gingerly took it from her, his hand touching hers and seeming to linger there for a moment in the process. The two of them then began conversing in a language or dialect that the translator couldn’t handle. It was eerily similar to what had happened on the Vacra warship, and therefore didn’t sit well with Maker.

  However, rather than ask Klafrn to translate what was being said, he asked, “So what just happened here?”

  “Commander Vuqja has been elevated in rank and title,” Klafrn replied. “As a Zirxen, only the Synod, queens, and empress outrank him. Moreover, he has earned the right to reproduce with a queen, should such a time come.”

  Maker frowned. Klafrn’s responses seemed to generate more questions than answers, but he focused on staying with his original topic.

  “So he just got promoted?” queried Maker.

  “Correct,” Klafrn answered. “It was his promised reward for completing the task he undertook for the Synod.”

  “Which, I assume, consisted of bringing us here.”

  “You and the Senu Lia,” Klafrn clarified. “Commander Vuqja took a sacred vow to complete that assignment.”

  Maker chewed on that for a second, then asked, “So what would have happened had he failed? If he simply hadn’t located us or something like that?”

  “He would have been stripped of all titles and honors,” Klafrn replied. “Exiled. In essence, he would have become – in your terms – a nobody.”

  Chapter 92

  Maker was livid, so furious he could have kicked himself.

  “We had him,” he muttered angrily for the umpteenth time. “We had him.”

  He was, of course, referring to Skullcap. At present, he and the rest of his team were in something akin to a luxurious, two-story penthouse suite, where Klafrn had escorted them after Skullcap received his promotion. The Vacran had then left them alone, promising that Skullcap would join them shortly.

  Under other circumstances, Maker might have taken a moment to note their ritzy surroundings and the lavish treatment they were receiving in being placed here. (In truth, it was what Erlen seemed to be doing – running to and fro in an almost helter-skelter manner, rapidly dashing in and out of every room.) Instead, he and the others had gathered in what appeared to be the Vacra equivalent of a great room near the foyer, at which point Maker had gone on an almost nonstop tirade.

  “So apparently you were right about Ambassador Vuqja needing you,” Browing interjected between Maker’s mutterings.

  “Yeah – we should have walked away the minute that became clear,” Maker stated. “Of course, it all makes sense now.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Loyola.

  “This is why Skullcap ejected in a lifepod after that last battle and allowed himself to be picked up,” Maker replied. “He had vowed to haul me and Erlen in before the Synod, but with his armada destroyed, he had no way to make good on that promise. If he had come back here without us, they would have stripped him down to the studs and tossed him out on his keister.”

  “So he came up with a scheme to get you here,” Snick surmised. “Trading the sub rosa tech in exchange for you escorting him home.”

  “And he knew you’d bring Erlen,” Chantrey chimed in. “So it was just a matter of somehow getting you to bring him planet-side with you.”

  Maker let out an agitated groan, thinking how perfectly Skullcap had baited the hook with the promise of information regarding Erlen (or more specifically, other Niotans).

  “And after that,” Chantrey continued, “he simply had to convince the Synod that he’d done as promised. Next thing you know, he’s big man on campus.”

  “He played us,” Maker stated, shaking his head in disbelief. “He played the Synod. He played everybody.”

  “You have to give the guy credit,” Browing said. “It takes a lot of chutzpah to come up with a plan like that, and it’s not everybody who can outfox not just one but two interstellar regimes.”

  “Sounds like you admire him,” Maker said. “Want me to get his autograph for you?”

  “I’m just saying that, in an abstract sense, you have to admire what he’s done,” Browing remarked. “Very few people could dig themselves out of a hole like that. About the only other person I know who could do it is you, Maker.”

  “No…don’t,” Maker stressed, shaking his head. “Don’t compare me to that scheming, conniving, calculating fiend.”

  “Strong words from a man who artfully converted an entire ship into a nova bomb,” Browing noted. “And then set it off.”

  “Those were special circumstances,” Maker countered.

  “And the stuff Skullcap’s done was what – part of his daily routine?” Browing shot back. “I’m sure he feels he was facing unique circumstances as well.”

  Maker had more to say on the subject – plenty more – but was cut off as the door to the suite opened and Skullcap stepped in.

  Chapter 93

  “My apologies for leaving you on your own temporarily,” Skullcap began, “but there were some perfunctory duties associated with my new position that I had to perform.”

  “Well, since you mention your new position,” Maker groused as he stalked towards the insectoid, “let me state for the record that I don’t appreciate being hustled.”

  “I am sorry that you feel ‘hustled,’” the Vacran intoned, “but I was limited in what I could share with you.”

  “You didn’t share anything,” Maker retorted.

  “I attempted to engage you in conversation multiple times,” Skullcap argued, “but you had no interest.”

  “Well, there wasn’t a gag on you,” Maker noted. “You could have just blurted it out.”

  “Actually, I could not,” the insectoid countered. “I did not have the authority to fully discuss the situation. However, you are particularly astute, and I had hoped that – if I provided enough clues – you would surmise the truth.”

  “Well, you’ve got my undivided attention now,” Maker insisted. “So drop whatever clu
es you can so I can figure out what new chicanery you’ve got going.”

  Skullcap made a slight buzzing noise that might have been the equivalent of a sigh. “Hints and intimations are no longer necessary. As Zirxen, I have the innate authority to apprise you of all relevant facts.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then Maker said, “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. Say what you have to say so we can leave.”

  “Or not,” interjected Browing, earning him a glare from Maker (which he ignored). “Part of our mission here is to open diplomatic channels, and my role is to see that done before we depart.”

  “There will be ample time for introductions,” Skullcap stated with assurance. “In the meantime, I will provide the explanation Maker desires. But first, where is the Senu Lia?”

  “He’s around here somewhere,” Maker said. “Probably moping because you haven’t taken us to this Senu G’Rung like you promised.”

  “I don’t understand,” Skullcap stated. “This is the Senu G’Rung.”

  As he finished speaking, he spread his arms wide, seeming to indicate the entire suite.

  ***

  It took a few minutes to run Erlen down; eventually, Maker found him in an antechamber on the second floor, staring at a mural painted on a wall. Much to Maker’s surprise, the image showed a Niotan standing stalwartly next to a Vacran, who sat on something like a throne. Simply seeing another of Erlen’s species was enough to give the composition something of a surreal quality, and Maker could understand his companion’s fascination with it.

  “Come on,” he said, leading Erlen away. A few minutes later, they were back with the rest of the group in the great room.

  “Okay,” Maker said to Skullcap, “we’re all here and ready for the big reveal.”

  “Excellent,” Skullcap said, “but before I get into the salient facts, I first have to impart certain information about the Vacra – specifically, our process of reproduction.”

  “Now I wish we did have an entomologist here,” Maker muttered.

  Chantrey gave him a harsh look, then turned to Skullcap and said, “Please go on.”

  “Thank you,” the insectoid droned. “As you might guess, the Vacra population rivals the stars in number. However, what most do not know is that – at any particular point in time – the total tally of fecund Vacra females never exceeds twelve.”

  “Twelve?” Browing repeated. “Twelve what – twelve million? Billion?”

  “Twelve,” Skullcap stressed. “As in, one more than eleven.”

  Silence reigned momentarily as everyone tried to wrap their brains around what they were hearing.

  “Just to be clear,” Chantrey remarked after a few seconds, “you’re saying that your entire species hails from only twelve females?”

  “I’m saying that every living Vacra is descended from one of twelve females in the prior generation,” the insectoid clarified. “Likewise, every Vacra born in the future will have similar ancestry.”

  “Family reunions must get a little crowded,” Maker joked, earning him another glare from Chantrey.

  Ignoring him, Skullcap continued. “The twelve fertile females are known as queens. Eventually, however, they grow old and die. The last surviving queen is designated empress and is usually venerated as the mother of our race. When she ceases to produce young, her biological processes alter significantly in order to produce a special enzyme. She then selects twelve new females and introduces the enzyme to their bodies. The enzyme makes them fertile, creating new queens, and the process begins anew.”

  “So this enzyme is something like the royal jelly produced by honey bees,” Maker surmised. “It makes queens.”

  “Based on my knowledge of the lifeform you mentioned, that is an accurate assessment,” Skullcap agreed.

  “But spacefaring species typically number in the trillions,” Loyola noted. “With only twelve fertile females at any one time, how do you keep the population from dwindling and dying out?”

  “Don’t make the mistake of confusing them with humans,” Maker interjected. “Other races aren’t as limited as we are in terms of how many offspring they produce. There were insects on Old Earth that could lay millions of eggs per month.”

  “Is it safe to assume that your queens reproduce along those lines?” Browing asked the Vacran.

  “A million per day would be low volume for a queen,” Skullcap answered. “Essentially from the moment of her selection, a queen will produce young almost continuously for the rest of her life.”

  No one said anything immediately, although something close to shock registered on Loyola’s face.

  “You know, I’m all for motherhood,” she said after a few seconds, “but that sounds horrible.”

  “It’s another species,” Snick reminded her. “It’s not for us to judge.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Loyola snapped acerbically. “Leave it to a man to say how great it would be to spend the rest of your life procreating, with every day an orgiastic bacchanal.”

  “That wasn’t what I said,” Snick countered defensively. “I merely stated that we shouldn’t judge what’s obviously a natural process for them by our standards.”

  “That does bring up an interesting point,” Chantrey noted. “How does fatherhood work with your species?”

  “Certain males are sometimes granted a right to procreate,” Skullcap answered, “usually under special circumstances.”

  “And that group includes you,” Browing surmised. “Now that you’re a Zirxen.”

  “Yes,” the insectoid admitted. “Generally, however, the queens select the males with whom they procreate.”

  “So do they mate for life?” Chantrey asked.

  “Hardly,” Skullcap responded. “We are naturally cognizant of the risks of inbreeding and the need for genetic diversity. Ergo, our queens can mate with as many males as they like or deem worthy.”

  “Who’s having the orgy now?” quipped Snick, causing Loyola to roll her eyes.

  “Okay, we appreciate the Vacran biology lesson,” Maker said, “but I’m still confused as to how this relates to us.”

  “I will show you,” the insectoid stated. As he spoke, he reached for and removed a hexagonal implement attached at his waist.

  Almost instinctively, Maker drew his service weapon, aiming it at Skullcap’s head.

  For a moment, no one moved, and then Maker – sensing that the object the insectoid held wasn’t a weapon – murmured, “Sorry – force of habit.”

  He then lowered his weapon, but kept it at the ready.

  Skullcap pointed the device to an empty area of the room and appeared to squeeze it. Within seconds, it became apparent that he was holding a hologram projector as an image about four feet in height appeared.

  Looking at it, Maker immediately recognized that the projection was focused on a female Vacra. Although it was difficult to get a sense a scale, he garnered the impression that she was big – far larger than any Vacra he’d seen thus far. Bearing in mind their similarities with certain insect species he was aware of, he assumed this was a queen. Moments later, Skullcap essentially confirmed this assessment.

  “This is our empress,” the insectoid announced.

  “Empress?” Chantrey echoed. “Then that means all the other queens…”

  “They are deceased,” Skullcap said. “She is the last fertile female of her generation – and our race.”

  Maker leaned closer, getting a good look at the hologram. The empress appeared to be lying on a barren floor. From what he could see, aside from a metallic choker of some sort, she was unclothed. (That didn’t strike Maker as unusual given Skullcap’s description of a queen’s reproductive capacity, but he hoped the imagery wasn’t about to present that in graphic detail.) Also, although there was no volume, the mouth of the empress seemed to be moving almost spasmodically, voicing something unheard.

  Apparently noticing the same thing, Browing asked, “Do you know what she’s saying?”

  “She�
�s not saying anything,” Skullcap replied. “She’s screaming. She’s being tortured.”

  Chapter 94

  It took a moment for Skullcap’s statement to sink in with everyone, at which point Loyola shouted, “What?”

  “The device you see around her neck is a control collar,” Skullcap explained, “capable of administering electric shocks, injecting pain-inducing drugs, and numerous other forms of torment.”

  “But why?” asked Snick.

  Rather than answer, the Vacran seemed to squeeze the object he held again. In conjunction with this, the hologram changed slightly. Now, in addition to the empress, Maker saw two other individuals standing close by. Noting a lengthy proboscis on the newcomers, as well as a ligneous appearance, Maker was reminded of the race Planck had mentioned seeing while he was a prisoner of the Vacra.

  “These are the P’ngrawen,” Skullcap stated, gesturing towards the two individuals with the empress. “They are a vile and vicious race whom the Vacra warred with for centuries. However, a truce was eventually declared, and we’ve spent the last few generations in peace – until recently, that is.”

  Chantrey was openly curious. “So what happened?”

  “The P’ngrawen operate under a monarchy,” the insectoid explained. “It has become tradition that we meet with them on certain occasions to renew the terms of the truce, including those instances when a new ruler takes their throne.”

  “So, did they have a new monarch come to power recently?” Browing inquired.

  “It was actually several years ago,” Skullcap noted. “The new king’s name was Badukst. When he ascended the throne, we agreed to a meeting to discuss the truce. But, as is typical for the P’ngrawen, Badukst would only meet with a Vacra who he felt was his peer.”

  “Meaning someone who was royalty,” Maker concluded. “One of the queens.”

  “Precisely,” the insectoid confirmed. “However, we were at one of those junctures where the only ‘royal’ remaining was the empress. With any other race, we would have sent a member of the Synod, since it is they – not the queens or empress – who actually oversee Vacra society. We have tried on numerous occasions to explain this to the P’ngrawen, also making it clear that every Vacra is actually the child of a queen and can thus be considered royalty, but they are stubborn and obstinate in that regard.”