Attacus stood up again. “Baadan, you have the bridge. Stick to that great grey.”
“What about the Blaren, Captain?”
“They’re not going anywhere just yet,” Attacus said, “but if the Fergunak threaten them again, take steps,” he followed the giela back out into the walkway space as he had before, and waited for the bridge doors to close before he said, “Sergio?”
“Interesting war,” the giela said, “isn’t it?”
“Where are you?”
“The Flesh Eater is holding position on the far side of the combat volume,” the giela reported, “as well as I can judge – which may not be particularly well. I’m still figuring out how far… I’m fairly sure she’s keeping the great grey between us, but I’m not sure why. She’s confused, the Po Chane she altered are still trying to take control, and I’m increasingly uncertain she’s going to be able to stop them in the long run.”
“That would not be good,” Attacus said.
“No it would not. I think she agrees about that too, but the problem is, she doesn’t have the processing capacity – computing or physical, whatever changes she’s made to them – to properly register them as secondary weapons. Um. I’m still not clear myself, but it seems like this is going to get worse before it gets better.”
“Are they able to launch themselves at us?”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” the giela said. “There’s no more shuttles or landers or anything inside the Flesh Eater while she’s in this configuration, but the ten Po Chane we have on board might just be able to … to meld out through the hull and propel themselves to another ship under their own power. They’d probably survive. I don’t think there’s much we can bring to bear on them, or the Flesh Eater, that will have much effect. We’re out of our league.”
“So what’s the play?” Attacus asked. “Are we going to play the Elevator Person card?”
“Not a chance,” Sergio said. “The Flesh Eater knows there’s an Elevator Person on the Draka, and she needs him or her to really fulfil her mission and take this to the next phase. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen. Some things are better left lost, Captain.”
“Is she going to be okay with that?” Attacus asked.
“She hasn’t flushed me out into space yet,” Sergio replied, “and she’s almost certainly aware of what I’m saying and doing at this point. Maybe even what I’m thinking, although it’s hard to tell. I’m incompatible, and even though the Po Chane force-integrated me during your ram-jump, I’m still not able to work properly with the ship.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Attacus said. “Whatever happens, we’re here for at least a week repairing our relative drive. And that’s if we’re lucky. We might end up having to depend on one of the clippers to go and get help from one of the big repair institutions, and that could take months. And even that depends on us being able to get a clipper’s relative drive working.”
“Well, you tore out your field generator by the roots,” the giela said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. But the Flesh Eater has recorded the data on the counter-suppression signal that the Rotten Ivan bounced back into the Children of the Bluothesh’s gridnet.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, she didn’t really know what it was, but she took note of it when it happened,” Sergio replied. “Her computer – if you can even call it that – is phenomenal. She logged the suppression field parameters and the counter-suppression realignments. I might be able to pass it on to Drakamod and the school, and they can use it to repair their clippers.”
“We’re under Mundus protocol at the moment.”
“Understandable,” Sergio said, nodding the giela’s gleaming, flattened head, “that’s why I said might. I’m far more confident, in fact, of my ability to feed the data back to the Linda and the Ivan, so they can be fixed.”
“You think we should evacuate the Draka and fly out of here on the civilian ships?”
“That’s up to you. It might be safer than depending on a clipper, but Drakamod hasn’t turned on us yet.”
No Fergunakil ever turns on its crewmates, Attacus thought, until it does. “At the moment, the surviving Po Chane look like they’re going to make it to the ships first.”
“Well, even if they manage to get the ships running again, the Draka can take them,” the giela said. “Get yourselves aboard, take them into custody if that’s what you want. Heck, it’s entirely possible you could convoy up and get all three of your ships out of here, although that might require a bit of cooperation,” the machine hesitated very convincingly. “Again, it’s up to you, but … it might be better to offer them amnesty.”
“Excuse me?”
“Offer them a deal. Their help in convoying the ships together and getting all of you out of this volume before the sharks get into a feeding frenzy, and in return you let them take the Linda and the Ivan to some don’t-ask location once your business is concluded and the Draka’s back in shouting distance of a settlement.”
“Why would we let them do that?” Attacus demanded.
“We don’t have the same degree of expertise on board, when it comes to linked-field and power-cobbling,” Sergio replied. “That’s just a simple fact, Attacus. Molren are brilliant, but they’re too by-the-books to make a crazy setup like that work.”
Attacus folded his arms. “You’re suggesting – you, Sergio, an AstroCorps officer – that we allow a group of Blaran corsairs to attack a pair of civilian vessels, murder their crews, and escape in possession of the ships and cargo.”
The giela raised a multi-jointed hand. “Alright, I admit that sounds bad.”
“Sergio…”
“I’m thinking of the politics involved. What we have here on the Flesh Eater is … it’s a whole new ball game, Attacus. Look. First of all, the civilian crews are gone. The killers, and the actual ringleaders of the attack itself, are all here on the Flesh Eater. They’ve been converted into components of her weapons system, and the only way they’re coming back to settled Six Species territory is as a conquering destructive force. The rest of the Po Chane Blaren were just following orders.”
“‘Just following orders’? Really, Sergio?”
“They’re an eccentric but largely peaceful bunch,” Sergio insisted. “Left to their own devices, without this whole disaster with the Fergunak and the Flesh Eater, they’ll just take their ships and make themselves scarce. They don’t even intend to return to the Coriel Hades line.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen some logs, and I’ve seen how they’ve reacted to the ten leaders – and most importantly, I’ve got Bluothesh’s testimony. Not trustworthy as a character witness, I agree, but he’s made it clear to me that all he really wants at this stage – always assuming he can’t take control of the Flesh Eater and take over the galaxy – is for the remains of his clan to put this behind them and carry on, safe and sound. I think offering him that will go a long way towards gaining his cooperation.”
“Will it be enough to make him forget about the whole ‘taking over the galaxy’ thing?”
“Your call,” the giela said, the words weary even if the tone was as melodious and warm as ever. “Bluothesh thinks he can get us back to the Destarion and take over from there, when in reality what will happen is that he and his fellow clan leaders will be formatted. The Flesh Eater, on the other hand, thinks that as long as we can get back to the Destarion with an Elevator Person, the whole thing will be able to mobilise. Which is why you need to get the Draka, and our crew, as far from here as possible, no matter the cost.”
“Sergio, we’re an AstroCorps warship,” Attacus said, “and we’re AstroCorps officers. And as weird as it is, this is a war the Po Chane have drawn us into. We can’t just–”
“Hey, look,” Sergio raised the machine’s wicked little hands again. “If you want to impound the Linda and the Ivan, arrest the rest of the Po Chane, confiscate the cargo an
d either try to set up a convoy yourself, or just sit here and wait for a repair team … you’re the Captain of the Draka now. And I’m not an AstroCorps officer anymore.”
“And when did you stop, exactly?” Attacus demanded. “You keep saying this is up to me. Care to elaborate on that?”
There was a long pause from the giela. “I don’t think I’m coming back from this one, Attacus,” the little figure said. “I’m sorry.”
“Sergio…”
“It’s been fun. But this is bigger than us. You might not understand … but I suspect you do. The Flesh Eater can under absolutely no circumstances get hold of the Draka’s Elevator Person. I–”
“Just tell us where you are,” Attacus said, hating the wheedling desperation in his voice. Had he just been sneering at the idea of making a deal with the Po Chane? Right now he was ready to bargain with the Flesh Eater, with Bluothesh, with the Fergunak, with the Elevator, anything. “We caught the Flesh Eater off-guard before, we’ll find some other way to catch her … Sergio?”
The giela had deactivated.
Malachi was gone.
XXII
Back on the Flesh Eater Sergio was thinking furiously, while attempting to keep it all on a conceptual level abstract enough to prevent it turning into an actual voice. Whether this was fooling anyone, he neither knew nor cared.
It was close now. It was almost over. If he could just come up with some sort of plan, then keep the ship from figuring out what the plan was …
Well, that was the clincher, wasn’t it? If man and ship were integrated enough for him to have any measure of unforeseen control over her, they would also be integrated enough for his thoughts to be hers. His only advantage was his biggest disadvantage. And he had no way of knowing how much of either was truly the case.
“It’s an act of will,” he thought-said, losing concentration–or intensifying it too much for it to remain as low-level background processing.
It was really an accident, he remembered the ship telling him, you should never have been integrated so completely …
And before that, what had she said?
I can store you like this more or less indefinitely, even though your current capacity to control my systems is as optimal as it’s going to get.
And what did that capacity include? The audio-visual polarity of the control chamber, the acceleration into and deceleration out of computer-time, possibly the uplink to the giela, although it seemed as though the Flesh Eater had cut him out of that.
“Why did she do that? Did she hear what we were talking about? Did she realise what it meant? Did she figure out what I was planning?” he gave a little chuckle that expressed itself flawlessly despite his lack of lungs or mouth. “I wonder if she could let me in on it,” he chuckled again, then raised his metaphorical voice, turning his conscious attention outwards and opening himself to the idea of communication. “Flesh Eater,” he said.
“Yes, Sergio?”
“How much of this have you been hearing?”
“I know you are determined to keep the rest of your crew from me,” the Flesh Eater said, “despite the great benefits your species would reap for very minor sacrifices on your part. I know you are particularly determined to spare your friend, who is a descendent of the Destarion’s original denizens. You did not want me to discover this, and as a result you practically shouted it. I’m sorry to cause you distress, but it really makes little difference. It’s not because of your treacherous thoughts. I would have found the suitable crewmember from among your number. And your friend is also the source of the trace Bharriom signature–a keepsake, perhaps, from olden times? A coincidence, and practically meaningless as I said before, but … indicative data nonetheless.”
“Flesh Eater,” he said again.
“Yes, Sergio?” she repeated.
“How much control over you do I actually have?”
She hesitated. “If you’ll excuse my answering a question with a question,” she said, “what did you mean when you said none of us are getting out of here alive?”
“I meant,” he said, “that my crew will not submit to you, or allow you to bring your mother ship out into Six Species space. If she chooses to remain dormant without humans to guide her, so much the better. But most of all, I meant that the Fergunak are going to regroup, now that their gridnet isn’t being messed up. They’ll recover, and they will come after all of us. Maybe our Fergunak will join them, maybe not. But they will come. And they will never stop,” he paused. “Your comms disruption thing is deactivated now, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Is that what they told you, while you were back on your ship?” the Flesh Eater asked, sounding hurt. “You never thanked me, for enabling that–”
“Thank you,” Sergio murmured, looking at Bluothesh Po Chane. The former Blaran had straightened and stepped back from the control chamber while Sergio’s consciousness had been over on the Draka, but was now locked again in organic processing time. “I’m not sure why you cut me off again, but thank you.”
“That was the Fergunak,” the Flesh Eater said, in a low mutter that sounded so ridiculously grudging that Sergio had to laugh. “You were right, when I reformed to my most compact configuration it cut my signal and your Fergunakil crewmembers recovered quickly. They are not reconnecting to your ship’s remote drones, though – I believe your crew has executed a shut-out command.”
“The Mundus protocol,” Sergio agreed. “So is it the Children of the Bluothesh who are messing with the giela network?” sullen silence from the Flesh Eater made him laugh again. “I told you they’d fuck us all up.”
“They will have to be destroyed.”
It’s an act of will.
“Actually,” Sergio said, “I was sort of hoping you’d reach that conclusion.”
This confession seemed to brighten the Flesh Eater’s mood. “What do you suggest?”
“Let the Draka take care of the smaller Fergunakil ships,” Sergio said. “You – we, meanwhile, take the great grey leviathan. She’s the only relative drive in the volume.”
“I assume, when you say ‘take’…”
“I mean we convoy up with her, use her relative drive, and fly her out of here.”
“Fly her where?”
“To the bonefields,” Sergio said. “To the Destarion,” the Flesh Eater was silent, which Sergio chose to interpret as consideration. “Show me the Godfang,” he said, “let me talk to her. I will decide whether or not to start letting Elevator People back on board.”
“I’m afraid I can’t trust you.”
“Of course you can’t. I can’t hide the fact that I consider you a threat to the Six Species and I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent you from eating any more humans and converting any more Blaren–”
“I told you, this was an accident,” the Flesh Eater whined. “And even so, the benefits–”
“Well either way, we can’t trust each other,” Sergio said, “that much seems clear. But the Draka’s relative drive is dead. The other vessels with relative drives in this volume – our shuttles, the Fergunakil clippers, the Linda Gazmouth and the Rotten Ivan – have been knocked out by the counter-suppression. With the Ivan’s crew dead, only you hold that key anymore. You can essentially hold us – them, I suppose–for ransom. The crew of the Draka, and the Po Chane, and even the remaining Fergunak. You’ll know where they are, and can come back for them.”
“The survivors here can make repairs,” the Flesh Eater said.
“Well, I guess that depends on how quickly you can get us to the bonefields and back.”
“With that Fergunakil ship’s drive?” the Flesh Eater grumbled. “It will take weeks. Maybe months.”
Sergio thought about it for a few moments–probably only a nanosecond or so in real time–then said, “I think we can set back the repairs to the Draka and the civilian ships more or less indefinitely.”
“Really?” the Flesh Eater said suspiciously.
“I think so,”
Sergio said. “Provided you still have a little bit of control over your secondary weapons.”
XXIII
The Children of the Bluothesh were milling, half-forming, circling. It was decidedly unsettling to watch, an unnatural merging of animals with hunting instinct interrupted and machines suffering signal degradation. The heavily-armed vessels formed little schools of their own, gathering a half-dozen listless followers from the lighter Fergunakil ships. Some of them flew at the straggling collection of Po Chane escapees, but the Draka picked them off. Some others seemed to be attacking the Draka’s Fergunakil ships, and those fights were vicious, but the casualties were minimal on both sides. Most of the big firepower was already used up, the mini-schools making it easy to target the lead sharks.
“Captain,” W’Fale said abruptly, “I’ve spotted a possible … yes, it’s the Flesh Eater. Similar configuration to before, but only a few hundred feet long. No visible means of propulsion, but she’s…” at this point, W’Fale managed to sweep the feed up onto the main screens and Attacus once again saw the long, slender needle of mysterious white. Tiny among the ice and slowly-spreading debris, she was cruising steadily towards the ice-encrusted great grey leviathan. The Fergunakil ships seemed to be ignoring her …
Even as he thought it, a couple of things happened at once, making him wonder for a moment if either had. The console under Attacus’s hand gave a low throb, and he half-glanced down to confirm that the signal-pulser had activated. The heavily-encoded and personalised series of binary pulses came through the command station and began to translate themselves into simplified instructions on the command display.
At the same time, one of the Fergunakil ships – Attacus thought she was one of the Children of the Bluothesh, not one of theirs – swivelled to follow the Flesh Eater, firing three times in rapid succession as she did so. The weapons fire, some kind of high-reactivity cluster warheads, splashed off the gleaming white hull without slowing the strange ship down even slightly. Not pausing, the Flesh Eater engulfed the matte grey ship.
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