Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1)

by Hash, Charles

  “I guess it’s time to find out if Konii and Vorle still have the heart for this. See if you can get in contact with them, and send them to take him prisoner. Tell him that he will either submit, or I will kill him,” she said. “Make sure he’s clean. No tracking devices or communication devices. Not if he wants to live.”

  “Okey doke,” said Mersi.

  “I’ll be back on the ship in just a nano. We’ll talk more then.”

  36

  Once she was back aboard the ship, Rhylie found herself waiting once again, only this time it was for Vorle and Konii. When they finally returned, Kraeke was with them, wearing nothing but a simple suit they had provided to protect him from the vacuum of space.

  “May I take a seat?” Kraeke asked, motioning to the table. Rhylie responded by nodding her head slowly, keeping her eyes focused intensely upon him. It would be so easy to just slam him down on the table and open him up. The thought of enjoying watching the life drain from his eyes unsettled her. What have I become? she thought. “I suppose since I have not been killed yet, that means you are contemplating accepting my plea for mercy?” He regarded her questioningly with those fish-like eyes. The visor and helmet protecting his head vanished into the collar of his uniform.

  “It’s…being taken under consideration,” Rhylie said coldly. Kraeke frowned with an authentic look of concern on his face. Or as much as he could muster anyway with his wide, staring eyes.

  “I suppose that’s the most I can ask for,” he said. “I will never be able to apologize for, or rectify, any of the things that Vorcia has done.” His shoulders slumped as though burdened. “But I can help you locate Riddai and Potaan. I offer their lives for mine.”

  “Go on,” said Rhylie. She didn’t like traitors. She still had one somewhere close to her. But Potaan and Riddai could be one step closer to Vorcia.

  “They’ve decided to combine their personal defensive forces and hide together. Vorcia has left them out to dry, and they are no longer supporting her Extinction Decree,” Kraeke said.

  “Just like she did with you,” Rhylie responded. Kraeke gave her a strange smile.

  “The only thing that would make Vorcia happier than my death is yours, dear,” he said. “If she could remove my people from the Master’s Council, she would rule unchecked. Sothu, Riddai, and Potaan would never stand in her way.”

  “Sothu is dead,” Rhylie said. Kraeke’s eyes got even wider, which Rhylie didn’t think was possible. It took a moment for him to compose himself.

  “I see. All the more hope for me since I remain alive,” he said. “Without his and Potaan and Riddai’s help, Vorcia has no choice but to withdraw her forces to Primiceps and see what your next move is. No doubt she’s laid an elaborate trap for you already, more like several, should you come for her first.”

  “You remain alive only for the time being,” she answered. “Remember that.”

  “When it comes down to it,” Kraeke said frankly. “Right now is all we’ll ever have.” He paused for a moment, looking down at the table. “For what it’s worth, the public voting record will show that I was the only one who voted against everything. Your imprisonment, the Extinction Decree, all of it. I opposed Vorcia as best as I could throughout, and I am truly sorry for all of your losses.” Rhylie frowned deeply, her brows knitting with frustration.

  “And yet you let Vorcia’s propaganda feeds play across the galaxy,” she said venomously. “You were just as complicit and guilty as the rest of them in that aspect.” Kraeke pursed his lips together and nodded his head once before looking up at Rhylie. The long cluster of slender tendrils hanging from atop his head twitched softly at the tips, independently of one another.

  “I could have said something, yes, but I had no proof,” he admitted. “I had no proof, you see, and Vorcia would have simply called me a liar and used it to launch a campaign to have me removed from the Master Council, under the implication that I did not have the galaxy’s best interests in mind. My people have served on the Master Council since its inception, and that is something that is greater than myself, something I can not jeopardize.” He sure does like to hear himself speak, she thought. Must be a skill acquired on the job.

  “My homeworld destroyed…over half of my people died because of your politics and your precious seat on the Council? My parents…” she said as anger began to overtake her. “All of our homeworlds. Trillions and trillions of lives gone in an orchestrated strike.” She could feel her face flushing as her rage grew.

  “Because of her,” implored Kraeke. “All because of her! She was the driving force behind it.” His forehead wrinkled with worry and the bubbles in the aquatube around his neck began to fizz at a heavier pace, and the tendrils atop his head began squirming slightly, as though there were a slow pulse going down his head. He seemed easily stressed.

  “Why?” she asked. “What did humans ever do to her?”

  “Nothing, really,” he said. “Other than draw her attention at the wrong time. The small branch that humans come from is an offshoot from the Siirocian arm of the galaxy. It serves as a buffer between their arm of the galaxy and ours.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said slowly.

  “Vorcia simply did not want to give control over your sub-arm of her territory to humans,” he said. “She didn’t want to lose that tactical advantage and considers it an insult on her honor as well. The Siirocians are also the oldest race in the galaxy, predating my own by several thousand years. They are fiercely proud of their heritage, and consider the entire galaxy to be theirs by right of destiny. Every small piece of territory that is lost to them is perceived as an insult to their heritage. To give over even such a small section of the Siirocian Empire to a young race like the humans was more indignity than she could tolerate.”

  “I’m going to fucking kill her and parade her skin around as a victory flag,” Rhylie hissed. Kraeke’s eyes widened.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Vorle said, laughing. She had never heard him laugh before. It was creepy, because his lips never moved, even though his shoulders shrugged. Rhylie had forgotten him and Konii were even there.

  “Someone needs to stay here and watch him,” she said, trying to sound authoritative.

  “I’m going with you,” they both said in unison, and then looked at each other. Rhylie closed her eyes and sighed with frustration.

  “We can’t leave him here alone with Mersi, and we can’t take him with us.”

  “We could lock him in…the empty room,” Konii said. Rhylie frowned. Konii was referring to Isaar’s room.

  “No. Nobody goes in there. We haven’t even cleaned it up yet,” she said angrily. She wished he were here now. He would know what to do. Part of her wished she were dead with him. She sighed reluctantly. “I just need one of you to volunteer.” I’m not as good at issuing orders as Isaar was, she thought sadly.

  “I have four very personal reasons for wanting to see Riddai again,” Vorle said in his husky, raspy voice. “I cannot beg you enough to allow me to accompany you. Please, do me this one favor, Rhylie, and I will give you my undying loyalty.”

  “I will remain behind,” Konii offered, nodding her head almost reverently towards Vorle before Rhylie could respond. “I did not mean to offend.” Konii was strange, mostly silent. Rhylie hadn’t quite figured her out yet. Sometimes she wondered if Konii even understood or cared about what was going on around her, but then moments of clarity like that reminded Rhylie that she could be not only cognizant, but insightful as well.

  “Thank you, Konii,” Vorle said. “This means a lot to me.” Konii gave him an odd smile. Rhylie didn’t know how to take the two of them, so she smiled back at them both awkwardly. It seemed like everything was settled well enough.

  “Getting to them will not be easy,” said Kraeke. “No it won’t.”

  “Good,” said Rhylie. “You’d better hope these coordinates are correct.”

  “Trust me, you are the last person in the galaxy I want angry
with me,” said Kraeke. “Especially now that I am here, at your mercy.” Rhylie looked over at Vorle.

  “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

  “You need one more thing to get inside,” said Kraeke. “And if I give it to you, I want your promise that I will not be harmed, and free to leave when I wish. Although I believe that staying here with you, underneath your protection is the safest place at the moment.” He doesn’t know how wrong he is, she thought bitterly. Still, he seemed as though his intentions were the least destructive of the Masters.

  “Only after we’ve handled Riddai and Potaan,” Rhylie said coldly. “Will I guarantee your life.”

  “Oh, I hope you do deal with them, I hope you do,” Kraeke said. “If you don’t, they may just turn on me.” Rhylie considered it for a moment.

  “What is it that you have that I need now?” she asked.

  “The upgrade for the bracelet you’re wearing,” he said, motioning towards Isaar’s bracelet. “It will get you close, but once you are inside they will be able to detect you. I don’t have the internal security software, so your stealth will be useless.”

  “I see. I want you to remain here until I return,” she said.

  “I may remain here long after you return, if you don’t mind,” he said. “Until this is settled, anyway. Vorcia will come after me as well when she learns I have been looking for you.”

  Rhylie didn’t know how she felt about that.

  *

  “What do you think,” Rhylie asked over a private com channel once they were outside of the ship and on their way. “How much can we trust Kraeke?”

  “Fear will make an honest man out of anyone,” Vorle replied. “It will make them confess to crimes they never even committed.” The slightly digitized quality of his voice reminded her of the Chamber’s for some reason.

  “That’s the truth,” she replied.

  “Can I for ask a favor?” Vorle asked.

  “You already asked for one,” Rhylie said coyly. “But of course,”

  “When we find them…can I have Riddai to myself?” he asked.

  “I suppose…can I ask why?”

  “He’s the one that did this to me. He’s the one that locked my father inside of a Chamber before executing him.”

  “How many Chambers are there?” asked Rhylie.

  “Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands,” Vorle said. “No one really knows.”

  “Best estimates place the number of operational Chambers in the galaxy at somewhere over 50,” Mersi piped in out of nowhere.

  “Shit, Mersi, I thought this was a fucking private channel. I didn’t know you could hear us,” Rhylie said.

  “It was. Sorry,” came the somewhat unapologetic reply.

  “Don’t…just don’t do it again. What do you think about Kraeke?”

  “Well,” said Mersi. “If he’ll betray the Masters to save his own life, he’d probably do the same to you. So as long as his life depends on yours…” She trailed off.

  “You know, you’re actually pretty wise for your age,” Rhylie said. She actually wasn’t sure how old Mersi was.

  “Well, you learn a lot of things when you grow up with a bunch of old whores,” said Mersi. Rhylie laughed in spite of herself. “It’s true,” she insisted.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Rhylie. “I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like you, Mersi.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I think.”

  “I meant it as a compliment.”

  “Yeah. A compliment,” Vorle interjected wryly.

  “Damn right you can have Riddai, Vorle. Do whatever you want. Just see if you can find out where Vorcia is first. I want to finish this shit once and for all,” said Rhylie.

  “Thank you. This means a lot to me,” he said.

  “No need to be an ass,” she said playfully.

  “I wasn’t?” he replied with a response that sounded sort of like a question.

  “I’m just messing with you,” Rhylie said. “You’re too serious, like, all the time. Cheer up, tonight we dine on cold revenge.” She felt giddy and exhilarated. The anticipation was delicious.

  “Okay. You’re weird,” he said. “Sometimes you do not make sense.”

  “I guess not,” said Rhylie. “But nothing makes sense to me anymore.”

  “Fair enough,” he said.

  *

  Riddai and Potaan’s hiding spot was a frozen, icy moon on the very edge of its system in a supposedly uncharted section of the galaxy. It revolved around a planet that was a mirror image of itself, empty, with no signs of life, no signs of anything but cratered glaciers and broken mountain ranges.

  But somewhere beneath the surface was a massive complex that Riddai had supposedly constructed for no other purpose than to satisfy his deviant carnal desires. Thinking about it made Rhylie uncomfortable.

  “So this is like some kind of weird sex torture dungeon?” asked Rhylie.

  “Yup,” said Mersi. “Basically.”

  “The galaxy is a fucked up place,” said Rhylie.

  “Yup,” Mersi reiterated. “You don’t know the half of it. Where Sothu was more of a voyeur, Riddai supposedly enjoys more participation.” The thought made Rhylie feel queasy.

  “That’s creepy,” said Rhylie.

  “I dunno. I think it’s kinda hot,” said Mersi with a mischievous tone. Rhylie couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

  “You’re really weird, Mersi,” Rhylie replied, remembering the porn she had caught Mersi watching.

  “You’re really weird,” she shot back. Rhylie laughed in spite of herself.

  “You’re both weird,” said Vorle. “How’s that?”

  “Fair enough,” said Rhylie as she landed on the planet’s surface. Before her was the entrance of a massive cavern that almost looked natural, but closer inspection showed the walls were smooth like glass. There was no sign of movement anywhere. Vorle alighted behind her.

  “Seems inviting,” he said flatly.

  “Oh you do have a sense of humor,” Rhylie quipped.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he said dryly. “Reputation and all.” He flew into the gaping hole, and Rhylie followed closely behind.

  The first wave of defenses they hit were a dozen autoturrets set in the rock walls outside of a pair of large bay doors. They were more annoying than effective by far.

  Vorle made quick work of them before he stepped up to one of the doors and sunk his fingers into it. He strained for a moment, grunting over the com channel before the door lifted with a great rending. A rush of air escaped the airlock. He stepped inside without hesitation and Rhylie followed behind him.

  A second bay door slammed shut behind them, closing them off in the air lock. Vorle’s fists took on the shape of massive, rounded hammers, and he began slamming them repeatedly into the next door like sledges. Each punch left a massive dent, and it eventually began to fold inward with each hit.

  After a dozen strikes it broke free, falling to the floor with a loud clatter. More turrets rained down fire on them through the doorway. Automatons flooded into the room with Rhylie and Vorle, a slew of mobile artillery machines that had a multitude of functions at their disposal such as electricity, projectiles, plasma beams, even explosives. None of them had very much effect against the atomorphic exoskins.

  Rhylie and Vorle tore through them like paper, shredding Riddai’s high tech, cutting-edge defenses. She had never seen Vorle fight quite like this before. His power and strength were amazing. He was focused and lethal, doing the bulk of the work. She had to admit, she liked this Vorle, and more often than not caught herself watching him destroy the base’s defenses. It was as if something long dead inside of him had reawakened.

  They made their way through the complex under constant suppressive fire, though it mattered little in the long run. They were gods trampling on insects, razing the hoards of automatons and turrets. Eventually they realized they were just going in endless circles.

  “It’s a maze,” said Vorle.
“I was here…once. Riddai likes to release prey, promising them that if they can escape, they will win their freedom.”

  “And what happens if they don’t?” asked Rhylie.

  “They lose their legs. Or arms. Eyes. Whatever he feels like. I should consider myself fortunate, to be honest,” he said. “Most people never make it out of here alive. Nobody realizes that even if they were to somehow make it out of here, they would just die horribly on the other side of the airlock. All of this is his cruel idea of a joke. But he needed me alive, to make an example of me. Now I’m going to make one of him when we find them.”

  “Any ideas? Mersi?” Rhylie asked.

  “Not really. Nobody knows much about this place,” she said. “Most people don’t even know it exists. If Sothu’s supply tunnel was the worst kept secret in the galaxy, then this is one of the best.”

  “Great,” said Rhylie. “So we’re stuck. They’re probably watching us, waiting on us to give up and go away.”

  “You’re right!” squealed Mersi. “They probably ARE watching you! Do you think you could locate a security panel Vorle?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any terminals, or outlets. There’s nothing here but bare walls and automatons,” Vorle said.

  “Maybe there’s a remote terminal behind the walls,” offered Mersi. Rhylie and Vorle looked at each other and shrugged. They began ripping the dark gray panels off of the wall, exposing the bare rock beneath until they found some sort of small access terminal. Vorle placed his hand over the panel, and it turned into a pool of liquid metal, engulfing it.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” said Rhylie. “Can I do that?”

  “Well,” said Mersi. “Its not that you can’t, you just don’t understand how. I have remote access to Vorle that I don’t have with you and I can operate a lot of things through him from wherever I am, as long as I have a feed established with him. Remember, Isaar disabled all of that stuff completely for you. He had a lot of faith that you would eventually come around to it,” she finished on a sad note. But he didn’t trust me enough to tell me where he got the atomorphic tech, Rhylie thought. She hadn’t brought it up to anyone since. Part of her didn’t want to know anymore. Part of her already knew.