by M. D. Cooper
“You’re not what I expected, that’s for sure,” Katrina replied as she approached. “Honestly, I was expecting something a bit more…grotesque, considering your warning, Demy.
Demy shrugged. “I could have left her black with some of the strange protuberances that the Crossbar designers had put on, but I figured we don’t want to scare people too much. Plus, red is more Malorie’s color than black.”
“You pick it?” Katrina asked.
“No,” Malorie replied. “I did.”
“I’ll admit, it’s a weird crawler design,” Katrina said as she trailed a finger along Malorie’s neck. “I’ve never seen one with a head.”
“It didn’t have one,” Demy replied. “It just had a pod-like thing with those four arms. Without the head, she seemed far too insectile. Not to mention she kept bumping into things, with her optics that low.”
“Plus my eyes were crotch-height on everyone,” Malorie added, rotating her ‘head’ side to side.
Demy nodded. “And those arms that are now on her neck were angled up from the front of the body. It honestly looked like she was going to disembowel people…or at least grab them in the ass. Anyway, I fabbed up the head and neck bit. It’s a little odd looking, but it’s slender and flexible, and can fold forward or back, so she can still get into tight spaces if needed.”
Katrina laughed. “Demy, I’m not planning on putting her to work in Rockhall. She doesn’t need to actually go skittering around on the cargo nets.”
“You never know,” Demy shrugged. “If you don’t like it, we can change her.”
“No…please,” Malorie said, almost pleading. “I’m just finally getting used to this, let’s not go changing me up just yet.”
“She had some really bad vertigo at first,” Demy explained. “Felt like she was throwing up constantly.”
“Which really sucks when you’re imagining the whole thing,” Malorie added.
“Where’s her brain?” Katrina asked. “Down in the body?”
“Yeah,” Demy pointed at the forward section. “In there, along with reserve nutrients and backup life-support systems. I left her in the braincase, just used its external connections to link into the crawler’s systems. She’s still working on coordination, though.”
“Standing is hard,” Malorie replied. “Walking is almost impossible. So many legs….”
Katrina chuckled. “I didn’t expect something quite like this, Malorie. If you don’t like it, we can get a bipedal automaton frame for you eventually. I don’t know if there are any decent ones to be had in Midditerra, though.”
“No!” Malorie almost shouted. “I mean, no…I’m fine.”
Demy said.
Katrina wondered at Sam’s words. It made a twisted sort of sense that Malorie would enjoy thinking of herself as a thing. It was how Jace had treated her for years. Katrina suspected the woman viewed herself as contemptible, on some level.
Was letting Malorie embody her own vision of herself a healthy thing? She had no idea. Katrina decided that she didn’t care overmuch, either. So long as Malorie was useful, and non-destructive to herself and others, she could inhabit whatever body was available and reasonable.
The one thing she did worry about were the hooked claws on those twelve limbs. They looked capable of tearing into a person with little effort.
Katrina turned back to Malorie. “Well, Malorie, since you’re so happy being your creepy bug-self, you can keep it. Not that you have many options. Demy spent too much effort on you to take you back out again. Come along to the bridge, I want you up there while we dock—plus I want to see the crew’s reaction.”
“I understand,” Malorie’s voice held a meek note rarely present. “It may take me a bit…like I said, walking is hard.”
“What if you pick up four legs and just walk on the other four for now?” Katrina asked.
Malorie lifted her center legs into the air and took a tentative step forward.
“Oh, that is easier!”
“Eventually your brain will be able to operate them all better,” Demy said. “Right now, the braincase is trying to simulate a mapping of your brain’s ability to control four limbs to twelve. It’ll take a bit before it helps build the right neural pathways for more natural control.”
“Good, then we’ll be on our way. Excellent work, Demy.”
“Happy to help,” Demy replied with a grin. “Was fun to make something like this. We should try to make Jace into a worm.”
Katrina laughed. “That may almost be worth doing. Suitable, at least.”
She left the bay and walked slowly down the hall, Malorie skittering along behind her.
“So, Mal, what do you think Kruger’s plans are with the Verisimilitude?”
Malorie didn’t reply, and Katrina turned to see her struggling to get her left foreleg to move at the right time.
“Just a bit harder than I’d thought, give me a moment.”
Katrina had to hold back a laugh. Malorie’s predicament reminded her of some of the stranger mods she used to see in Luminescent Society when she was younger. Granted, those were all voluntary and often included more organic, or organic-looking, parts of the person’s original body.
Malorie finally convinced her front-right leg to lower when she wasn’t lifting her rear right, and took a few hesitant steps.
“OK, I think I got this. What were you asking?”
“Kruger, what’s his plan, do you think?”
“Hmm…” Malorie tapped one of her upper appendages against her metal head-orb, the tink tink sound echoing down the passageway. “That’s a good question. The most likely possibility is that he wants to take advantage of any weakness in the MDF to build up his own forces—either by claiming it’s necessary for his own protection, or because he thinks he can just do it with impunity.”
“That was my top-line assessment, as well. But why the Verisimilitude? That’s not an easy ship to hide. He’d have to know that I’d want it. Either for the Adders, or for the MDF.”
Malorie snorted. Or tried to. The sound was closer to a donkey’s bray, and she made an embarrassed gasp afterward. “Demy’s a fucking comedian.”
“Do you want the body or not?”
“You know, Katrina, you remind me a lot of Jace—and I mean that in the worst way possible.”
Katrina was glad that Malorie was behind her—and that her skin was artificial—otherwise the woman would have seen the color drain right out of it.
Doesn’t matter. You didn’t ask for this. You’re doing what you have to, to survive.
“Keep your insight to Kruger,” Katrina growled.
“Fine.” Malorie didn’t speak for a moment, th
ough the click click click rhythm of her clawed feet hitting the deck had steadied. “I suppose he might offer it to Marion, or maybe to Gunter. Marion would take it in a heartbeat; she’s too stupid to understand the risk that would pose.”
“Even after my demonstration down in Selkirk?”
Malorie brayed, but didn’t comment on it this time. “Maybe. That may have strengthened her resolve. Like I said, she’s not very bright. She has people around her that keep her in check most of the time, though. Doesn’t mean that Kruger wouldn’t make the offer to her. Mind you, this all assumes that Leon has surrendered the ship to Kruger in some fashion. I have a hard time believing that he’d do that.”
“Oh? So what would Leon’s play be?”
“Well, did the ship take damage in the fighting?”
Katrina shrugged. “A bit, it got in a dust-up with a pair of MDF cruisers, but it was all extreme range stuff. I can’t imagine that the Verisimilitude got more than a scratch.”
“But it could have,” Malorie pressed.
“It could, yeah.”
Katrina couldn’t imagine Malorie taking a ladder, at least not until she had a handle on using all her legs—in theory, the crawler itself should have no trouble doing it—so she stopped at a lift and waited for the car to come down to their level.
“Well, then, he and Kruger would be working out a deal. But I really think that deal would see Leon remain in command of the ‘Tude. He’s coveted that position for too long to surrender it mere days after getting his hands on it.”
The lift doors opened to reveal a pair of crewmen. One let out a small shriek, while the other swallowed with a worried look on his face.
“You two going to stand in there forever?” Katrina asked. “Also, say hi to Malorie. After her original meat suit got shot up, we had to find her a new body. Like it?”
“Umm…it’s fitting,” one of the crewmen said, nodding as he slipped past. “Lady Katrina, Lady Malorie.”
“Just Malorie,” Katrina corrected.
“Er, sorry. Habit.”
Katrina walked onto the lift and stood in the corner while Malorie slowly worked her way through the narrow entrance, only getting one leg hooked on the doors.
“Not bad,” Katrina said as the doors closed and the lift began to rise.
“Getting the hang of it,” Malorie replied. “You’ll see me skittering along the overheads in a week, tops.”
Katrina snorted. “You’re going to scare the shit out of everyone. I think you like the idea.”
Malorie’s insectile robotic form betrayed no emotion, staying completely still, but her voice held a note of glee. “I just might.”
Jordan laughed when Katrina and Malorie entered the bridge, a giggle she tried to stifle that turned into a full-on guffaw.
The rest of the bridge crew wasn’t sure how to react, so they kept quiet and tried to pretend they were focused on the final approach to Nesella Station.
“You done, Captain Jordan?” Malorie asked when Jordan finally got herself under control.
The question brought a fresh round of laughter from Jordan, and Katrina rolled her eyes and slapped the captain on the shoulder as she walked past.
“Take it easy, Captain.”
“Sure, yeah,” Jordan wheezed while the navigator began to chuckle. “It’s just…it’s just…Mal…you’re like a giant lobster. I need to find out if Demy can make big snappy claws for you.”
The statement brought a fresh round of laughter from Jordan, and Katrina turned and rolled her eyes. “A bit of decorum? How long ‘til we’re docked?”
Jordan wiped her eyes while Malorie quietly moved to a far corner.
Malorie said to Katrina.
“We’re twenty minutes out,” Jordan replied after a moment. “We got an external berth on an outer ring. STC didn’t put up a fight when we asked for it. I think they want us as far out on the edge as possible.”
Katrina wasn’t surprised. The Castigation looked like a junk-heap—an appearance the previous stationmaster of Rockhall had deliberately maintained to hide the fact that the vessel was functional. However, what it lacked in looks, it made up for in speed and maneuverability. And weapons. The ship sported more beams than any ship in the Adder fleet, excepting the Verisimilitude. It also possessed eight railguns, which was an almost ridiculous number for a ship of its tonnage.
In short, Katrina wouldn’t want a ship like the Castigation docking at her station, either.
“Smooth otherwise?” Katrina asked
“Well, they told us to shut down our reactors and let a tug bring us in. I told them to suck my ass. They didn’t push the issue; I think that Colonel Odis’s four destroyers holding off station helped remind them that we’re not some merchant ship popping by with a hold full of cargo.”
Katrina nodded as she observed the station and the Castigation’s assigned berth. “Our guns won’t have a line of sight on anything useful,” she said after a moment.
“True, do we need to?” Jordan asked.
“Yes. Take the third berth up from what they offered. Our dorsal rails will have a line of sight on their command deck.”
Jordan cast Katrina an appraising look. “You just love to rock the boat, don’t you?”
“I’ve never rocked a boat in my life,” Katrina deadpanned.
“Uh…metaphor?”
Katrina winked at Jordan. “I’m messing with you.”
“Shit, Katrina, don’t do that. You’re far too scary to mess with people. Not like lobster lady back there.”
Jordan met Katrina’s eyes and nodded.
Katrina shook her head as Jordan turned and covered her mouth.
“Captain, Lady Katrina,” the Adder at the comm station looked up. “The STC has noted our change in vector and they’re demanding that we take the berth they assigned.”
“Put them on,” Katrina said as she strode toward the holotank.
“Aye, ma’am.”
A figure appeared in the holotank, a rather tired looking woman, who looked half asleep as she droned on. “…alter vector and proceed to berth seaaaaven aaay daaash niiine onnnne.”
“No,” Katrina said. “We’re taking the berth we’re on course for. We expect station to accept our grapple.”
“Huh?” the woman looked up and realized she was staring at Katrina. “Oh…uh, who are you?”
“The Warlord,” Katrina replied. “I find your assigned berth unacceptable, so I chose a new one.”
“You can’t—”
“Quiet, woman. I can and I will.”
The STC operator glanced to the side and Katrina could tell she was talking to someone else. “But we’re not mass balanced for that port,” she said hastily.
“Nonsense,” Katrina replied. “It’s only four hundred meters up on the same ring. You’ll hardly need to shift any ballast at all to manage it—or just jack your a-grav. With the troubles, you’ve only half the normal number of ships docked. You have ample power to do it.”
“Umm…I’ll have to speak to the stationmaster.”
“Good,” Katrina nodded. “You do that. We’ll be making grapple in three minutes. Nesella Station had better accept.”
Katrina didn’t wait for the response and killed the comm channel.
“You’re so mellow,” Jordan said, shaking her head.
Katrina smiled in response. “It’s a skill.”
Jordan looked to her helm officer. “Let me know if they don’t open the clamps in the next minute.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Katrina wondered why Jordan seemed unfazed by her demeanor. Nearly everyone els
e walked on pins and needles around Katrina, but not this woman.
Perhaps it was because she believed she was in Katrina’s inner circle—which, if Katrina were honest with herself, was probably true. Katrina had few people she could trust; though she probably shouldn’t trust Jordan, to be honest.
That’s no way to live. I have to put some faith in someone. For now, Jordan, Korin, and Sam will have to do.
“Would you like to come and meet Kruger?” Katrina asked Jordan.
“I’ve met him before. Boor of a man. I’ll pass, unless you think you need me.”
Katrina considered it. Jordan would be nice to have around, but she would be more useful on the bridge of her starship. “I could certainly use you, but I think I’d prefer your finger on the trigger out here. Plus, I’ll need someone to coordinate with Odis.”
“Stars…his parents should have named him Odious. The man takes everything far too seriously.”
“Jordan…”
“Yes, Mom, I’ll play nice. I assume you’re going to take his squad of guards aboard?”
Katrina nodded. “Yes, we’ll need all the Adders for Plan B.”
“Good ol’ Plan B,” Jordan said with a shake of her head. “We always fall back to it. Not sure why we don’t just start with it.”
“First plan always fails,” Katrina slapped Jordan on the shoulder. “If we started with B, we’d have to have a C.”
Jordan winced and rubbed her shoulder. “Stars your hand is hard, you need to ease up with it. Regarding the plans, we could start with B and then fall back to Plan A—in theory, it’s the one with the best outcome.”
Katrina laughed. “Now you’re just talking crazy talk. OK, I’m off. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck,” Jordan winked. “You’re the Warlord.”
For some reason, hearing Jordan say it like that made Katrina feel less comfortable, not more.
THE MEET
STELLAR DATE: 02.04.8512 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Outer Ring 19
REGION: Nesella Station, Regula, Midditerra System
To his credit, Kruger met them at the airlock in person.