Blood Siren

by Michael Formichelli

  “I’m guessing that you didn’t have any luck with tracing our benefactor?” he asked.

  She finished a mouthful of noodles. “The transaction was deleted before the system got around to accepting my data query. I could trace it further, but it’s going to take time.”

  “No bother, I’m sure whomever it is will be revealed in time. I can’t imagine someone making my job easier just for the sake of good will. It usually goes the opposite way.”

  “Same with me,” she nodded.

  He caught the attention of the Cleebian waitress who had taken their order and gestured to indicate he wanted something to drink. She nodded her balloon shaped head and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “How does she know what I want?” he asked.

  “There’s only one thing to drink with Cleebian noodles,” Khepria said. “It is something that translates as summer tea.”

  Nero paled. “Don’t tell me it tastes like the noodles.”

  I thought you were trying to take her mind off how bad you thought the noodles were, Prospero said.

  He grimaced and deepened the expression when he saw Khepria’s reaction. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s light, like the lemon-water you humans like.”

  “I’m not hu—oh, never mind.” He looked at the bowl of noodles again to avoid her gaze.

  The light level on the table’s surface shifted. He looked up, expecting to see the waitress with his drink.

  “Excuse me,” said a scratchy, childish voice.

  He froze. The black and white striped skin and hair were unmistakable. Violet eyes locked with his.

  “Oh shi—” Sparks erupted in his vision when the blow struck and shorted out his consciousness. He reawakened when the table smacked him across the face and shattered.

  He was on his back, his vision was blurry but he made out the image of a child-like form lifting Khepria from her seat and slamming her down on the ground a few meters away. The small, deadly hands had her by the throat. She had two hands around the thing’s arm while her long toes tried to grab anything stable within reach. The group of diners that had been sitting around them moments before were moving out of the way like grass parting in a stiff wind.

  Zalor’s little killing machine was here, on Elmorus, and it was killing Agent Khepria.

  Around him, patrons started screaming.

  Activating enhanced adrenal glands, Prospero said.

  Strength flooded Nero’s system and his vision snapped into focus. It only took a moment to be on his feet with gun in hand. “Hey!”

  Qismat turned her head, a fanged grin on her face.

  He pulled the trigger. The sound of the super-sonic round reverberated off of the curved narrow walls of the restaurant turning its normal crack into a boom. Qismat jerked back. A neat hole appeared in her temple and started leaking gray silica gel. She dropped Agent Khepria and turned towards him.

  He shot her again in the chest and put another bullet in her forehead in rapid succession.

  She hissed at him and leapt into the air.

  “Oh fuck,” he said.

  She hit him full in the chest with both hands. The air raced out of him and his body flew backwards. He felt the impact of several objects on his back before he slammed against the far wall. The moment he felt solid ground beneath him he got up. There were advantages to having an SCC switch off one’s pain nerves.

  You’re welcome.

  Several patrons lay motionless in the path of wreckage between him and Qismat. She licked her extended nail blades. His chest itched on both sides where she hit him, but he was only vaguely aware of the irritation. His attention was focused on the striped monster before him.

  His fingers flexed around air. Somewhere along the way he’d dropped his gun. It was a serious problem considering who his opponent was, but not one he couldn’t overcome. Abyssians were never unarmed.

  He coughed hard, splattering the floor between them with black blood. His mind raced, wondering why Qismat was here, how she might have known where to find them, and the somewhat happier thought that it meant they were on the right track to catching her master. He pushed the thoughts aside quickly. If he couldn’t subdue this mechanical beast he wouldn’t ever find out any of the answers.

  “You’re under arrest,” he said.

  He drew his knife and felt its ultrasonic vibration come alive in his hand.

  Chapter Twenty

  Queen Gaia, Matre’s Glory System

  41:1:12 CST (J2400:3074)

  Cylus was wide-awake the moment he opened his eyes, something he could not remember doing since he was a child on Latanus Feast Day. It felt in some odd way that a dam had just broken and allowed the universe to flood back into his consciousness all at once.

  He was lying in his stateroom aboard the Queen Gaia. It was sparsely decorated, having only a plush tan carpet, cream-colored walls with mahogany molding, and a single holographic screen taking up most of the wall opposite the bed. Although the floor was flat, the room was large enough to show the arc of the torus it was housed in. The curve was subtle, but looking at the picture window’s upper frame showed the gentle sweep of the ship’s construction just above the billions of stars twinkling in the great void.

  He sat up, not quite remembering how he got to his room. He recalled being at the party, Zalor’s speech, Pasqualina talking with him in the hallway, but nothing after that. After several minutes of puzzling it over, he decided he must have drank too much after returning to the party with his betrothed and blacked out. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that, though he hadn’t imbibed quite so heavily since leaving Anilon to attend his family’s memorial service.

  Something inside him seemed to tell him that his assumptions were right, but he didn’t feel like he’d just drank himself into a stupor. In fact, he felt better rested than he had in years. It didn’t quite fit, but he had no other explanation for his blackout.

  The door to his room chimed.

  “Enter,” he said.

  Ben stood in the doorway. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Baron Revenant has requested your presence on the observation deck.”

  His gut quivered. “He did?”

  Ben nodded. “Yes, sir. ‘As soon as you are able’, he said.”

  His artificial servant moved to the side of the bed, bent down, and accessed the storage compartments below. A few moments later he stood holding a black silk suit with squared shoulders and a silver sash.

  “Might I suggest this one, master?” Ben presented the suit to him.

  “I guess.” He sighed and climbed out of bed.

  It only took a few moments for Ben to help him into the suit. It was tailored to fit him to within a micrometer, and was snug in all the right places with a set of twin tails that flowed about his legs from hip to knee when he walked. When Ben was finished with his work he gestured at the stateroom’s screen, which shifted to show Cylus staring back at himself as though it were a mirror.

  “I don’t want to go, but at least I’ll go well dressed,” he said.

  “Of course, master. I will be happy to lead you to the observation deck if you are ready.”

  He inhaled deeply, and let it out slow. “I’m ready. Is Sophi going to be there?”

  “I don’t think so, master. I believe the invitation is for you alone.”

  “Great,” he responded. The butterflies in his stomach got worse, but he made himself follow his artificial servant anyway. There was nowhere to hide on the ship, so it wasn’t like he could avoid Zalor if he didn’t show up. He knew that he wasn’t ready to face the man the other barons called the Big Bad Wolf. He was waiting for something important before he confronted Zalor, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was.

  Ben led them out of the room into the gently curving corridor beyond. It was identical to the one where he had the conversation with Pasqualina a day earlier—even the faint smell of potpourri and machine oil was th
e same. She had suggested he make Sophi his proxy on Kosfanter, and it occurred to him he hadn’t had the chance to discuss it with Sophi yet. She was a baron now, but having her own seat did not bar her from representing him as well. Cylus made a mental note to talk about it when he saw her next.

  It took nearly ten minutes of walking and lift-riding to reach the observation deck. During that time his stomach settled, but the tingles renewed the moment he and Ben stepped through the doorway into the large, curving chamber.

  The observation deck was located at the base of one of the massive spokes connecting the torus containing Cylus’ stateroom to the central body of the ship. The actual support pylon ran through its center, leaving the outer surface of the spoke free for the five-meter tall, panoramic windows that gave the place its name. The ring of polyglass was punctuated by half-meter long, high-power, digital telescopes ready to project stellar imagery into the mind of an observer by implant link-up.

  “Just around the bend, master. I’ve been asked to stay by the door, to prevent any unwanted visitors,” Ben said.

  Cylus turned and gave his servant a nervous look. “I guess that’s good.”

  “You’ll be all right, master.”

  He nodded, wishing it were true. He turned and made his feet move, though he felt they were a thousand kilograms each. He tried to make each step last, but he still arrived too soon for his liking.

  Baron Zalor Revenant stood in front of one of the massive windows dressed in a black suit with silver racing stripes. He had his shoulder-length brown hair bound in a tight tail with a faux leather cord, and held both of his pale hands together at the small of his back.

  Cylus stumbled to a halt. He was so nervous, that he almost didn’t notice the man standing beside Baron Revenant. Rail thin and half a head taller than his patron, he wore a simple white tunic and bay pants that hung on his frame like they were still on the storage rack. Widely-spaced brown eyes, a sharply curving Roman nose, and a long face with a pointy chin made him look like a starved corpse. His black hair, shaved almost to his pate on the sides, was left shaggy above and kissed the tops of his ears. He watched Cylus without really looking at him, wearing a look of distracted discontent while stroking the brass-comet buckle above his fly like his mind was elsewhere and he was annoyed that his body had not followed it. It was a different thing than the casual disdain with which the corporate aristocracy treated the world, Cylus noted. This man was too active in his worldly disgust to fit into that category. How Yoji had worked with this man, he didn’t know. Cylus knew from looking at him that he could never have managed it.

  “Cylus,” Baron Revenant turned to regard him with hungry blue eyes.

  “Baron Revenant.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably under the gaze. The taller man, though much uglier, was at least easier to look at than the Big Bad Wolf.

  “I’m glad you came, Cylus. I wanted a chance to talk to you away from the party and all of those pretentious hangers-on.”

  He looked around, but did not see any sign of Qismat. It gave him hope that he might survive the encounter. The last time he was this close to Zalor he had the Abyssian at his side and he felt exposed without such protection now.

  “What about?” he asked.

  “The future, of course. There are many changes coming. I see a grand vision of what will become of our Confederation, and I wanted to share that with you. After all, you’re going to be a big part of it,” Zalor said.

  Cylus opened his mouth, but took a moment before he said anything. “I am?”

  Zalor nodded. “For decades I have dreamed of a stronger, more united Confederation. Right now we are all under the Premier’s purview, but in reality the Confederation is made of five distinct groups, each with their own localized governments, laws, and customs. The Tri-Terra Republic, the Cleebian Greater Prosperity Sphere, the Galaenean Unity, the Relaen League, and the Isinari Equalitarian Republic are each a separate entity. The parts of the Confederation function as individuals within a group instead of a unified whole. Some of the rules in Galaenean space do not apply in Cleebian space or our own Solan space. We are divided and inefficient.

  “Our common people are divided as well. Daewonists, Gaians, and Progenitorists all argue amongst themselves as to the nature of the universe and its spirituality. Each group is large and wields a degree of influence among the populace, and so these divisions weaken us and make us less efficient. It keeps us all separate, isolated from each other in ways we can ill afford, especially in this time of strife.” Zalor smiled, but it was a thing of ice.

  “It’s been this way since the beginning. We seem to be getting on all right,” Cylus said.

  “We have a nearly bankrupted treasury, and our borders are shrinking before Broghite warships. I would hardly call that all right,” Zalor said.

  Cylus frowned. “I suppose not.”

  Zalor closed the distance between them and clasped a hand on Cylus’ shoulder. “Take heart, Baron Keltan. I have a plan. The man behind me here is Doctor Suman Rega. He is a professor at the famed Cleebian University, and the Confederation’s foremost authority on the ancient species that inhabited the void before us. I managed to steal him away from Baron Mitsugawa Yoji years ago. I have not since regretted that investment. I’ll allow him to explain why.”

  Cylus’ brow furrowed. What could a professor of long-dead sentient species have to do with Zalor’s vision of a more united Confederation? Why was Zalor telling him this? Try as he might he could not conceive of a way to fit the two together.

  Doctor Rega regarded Cylus for a time before speaking. The irritation deepened on his face, but he seemed to focus more. “By studying the ancients, beings we know as the Qua and the Cephalon, and what they left behind, I have managed to unlock several of their secrets. One of them, the—”

  “Wait, I don’t know history well. Who are you talking about?” Cylus said.

  The doctor sighed heavily. “The Qua, the race of beings that preceded the VoQuana, and the Cephalon, a species that mastered quantum technology while our ancestors still thought the Earth sat at the center of the universe. The two became enmeshed in a war that spanned centuries. Both species vanished before humans gained the stars, but they left much behind.”

  “Oh, I see. What does this have to do with your plan to better unify the Confederation?” Cylus asked.

  “Wait, and listen,” Zalor responded.

  With a snort, Doctor Rega continued. “I have managed to unlock certain parts of their old, but very powerful technology. At the edge of this system, approximately sixty-AU’s distant, there exists a two-thousand kilometer wide sphere of neutronium. Scans and gravitational readings have shown it to be hollow, containing turbulent quantum forces the likes of which exist nowhere else in the universe. I’ve identified hundreds of systems across the Orion Spur with similar spheres. I believe they mark the territory of the now extinct Cephalon Empire, but more importantly, the spheres are still active.”

  Neutronium, Cylus knew, was the incredibly dense substance that the Confederation harvested from neutron stars to power the FTL drives of its interstellar starships. Other than its gravitational properties, he knew little about it. He’d never heard of any other use for the substance. It was too massive and too dense for armor, and too difficult to manage for any other power purpose.

  “What do the spheres do?” Cylus asked.

  “On their own, nothing. However, in each system with a sphere there exists a planet with a Cephalon temple, and within each temple is a control device capable of activating the spheres. What they do, to put it simply, is enable instantaneous travel to anywhere in the galaxy.” Doctor Rega puffed his chest out and a grin appeared on his rodent like face.

  “Imagine it, an empire connected by instantaneous travel. No more communications delays, no more waiting months or years to hear word from far flung colonies. It will enable a central government to have direct, total control of its member systems.” Zalor was smiling now.

 
Cylus saw it in his mind. Instantaneous travel would eliminate the autonomy of the Confederation’s member sovereignties. For as much as it would enhance the connectivity of things like the Cyberweb, it would, as Zalor said, allow one entity to have a direct hand in all matters of governance everywhere. He could guess who Zalor had in mind to assume that office.

  The Confederation was on the cusp of an age of tyranny, and if it won the war against the Broghites—which, with this technology it would—he could see no end to Zalor’s grasp. The enormity of what he imagined had his bile rising.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Cylus croaked out.

  “Because I want you to see the benefit it will have to the common being; that which you and those fool Cronuses have professed a wish to protect. No longer will aid arrive too late to mining systems when mines collapse. No longer will colonies that experience bad harvests have to endure famine and death while help crawls through antiquated wormholes. We’re talking about a universe where everything will be within arm’s reach—food, medicine, knowledge—everything. By opposing me, Baroness Cronus is opposing the advancement of us all. She is opposing aid to starving children, help for the sick—”

  “I get it,” he said. Zalor had a point, but he could not escape the specter of the Big Bad Wolf with an instantaneous, infinite reach.

  Zalor regarded him for several moments. “I’m not sure you do, but you will. Think about it, Cylus. Think about it long and hard. What I am offering the Confederation is salvation from hardship. Moreover, this will put us on par with more advanced civilizations, like the Revok. Think about it.”

  Cylus turned towards the window, watching the stars crawl by as the Queen Gaia continued its path through the void. Was the danger worth it to have a more united Confederation? Could the benefits to the common sentient be worth Zalor’s enhanced control? Had Zalor said “an empire connected” earlier? Is that what he truly had in mind for the Confederation? Would the benefits be so great that he should hold off his revenge long enough to see Zalor’s dream come to fruition.