Wings of Retribution (Millennium Potion)

by Sara King

  Grimly, he sat down in the captain’s chair and started entering commands.

  Stuart was so cold by the time the last person picked him up that he didn’t understand what was happening to him until something began cramming him inside a sinus passage.

  And it was a sinus cavity. Not a test tube or a beaker, but a flesh-and-blood sinus cavity. And warm. Blessedly warm. It felt like heaven. Feebly, Stuart crawled forward, barely able to summon enough energy to wriggle. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he knew that as soon as he began to bore his way into the brain, the host would change his mind and rip him back out. Without a proper way to paralyze his host, Stuart didn’t have much hopes for success.

  Thus, he was surprised when the painfully rough, salty fingers started aiding his progress by stuffing him upwards. He was even more surprised when he made his first bumbling press through the sinuses and the host jerked, but never tried to remove him.

  This left Stuart with a feeling of dread. What if Juno was giving him a captive body? A prison to hold him for more torture? Stuart slowed, horrified at this idea. He would rather die than risk living like that again.

  What should he do? Choose the brave death and slide back out into the open? Or choose the coward’s death and live for a few more minutes?

  “Hurry up, you damned maggot!” Athenais said from between clenched teeth. The feeling of the little worm just sitting there in her sinuses like a cold little lump of flesh was excruciating. It was all she could do not to sneeze. “Finish it or die. Don’t just lie there. Pick one!”

  Apparently, the suzait chose to live. She cried out and fell to the floor, her back arcing against her will as synapses were crossed and destroyed inside her head. She had felt this once before, in a suzait colony on Odan. It brought back a rush of the old helplessness and fear, almost blinding her with sudden panic.

  What are you doing, you fool? her logical side screamed. You are the perfect host. He’ll ride you forever…

  Somehow, she forced herself to remain still. Not that she had much choice in the matter, anymore. Unless she could get to a pair of needlenose pliers in the next two seconds, her body was about to become another being’s property.

  Athenais’s limbs gave a jerk as the suzait cut her connection to her motor nerves, then she waited in bitter paralysis as it situated itself.

  She should have known the suzait wouldn’t treat her as it had treated Fairy. The little brat didn’t have an immortal body. She did. And Stuart knew it. He’d been planning this all along.

  She waited in silence for what seemed like hours before a single, startled word shook her consciousness.

  Athenais?

  Her thoughts must have been venomous, because she felt him recoil.

  Why?

  Because you’re part of my crew, you slimy bastard, Athenais tried to say. Her lips never moved, but the suzait picked up her thoughts anyway. She picked up disbelief, hope, even a flash of greed.

  Ball’s in your court, Athenais thought bitterly.

  A long moment passed. Then another. Then, like someone released the Athenais Owlbourne Remote Control, she regained use of her limbs. Slowly, she stood, not trusting her legs. She tried not to show her relief, but it must have gotten through because Stuart brushed her thoughts again.

  Thank you, Athenais.

  Athenais grunted. “You did fight your way through Orplex to help me.” At that, she grabbed Juno by the shirt and dragged her body inside the first door she saw. Inside, she shot the corpse a few more times, concentrating her attentions on the head, chest, and spinal area. Then she locked the door and began stumbling down the hall, looking for some poor sot to dump the parasite on.

  We don’t have time. Ragnar triggered a beacon. Uploaded Juno’s central mainframe straight back to the Utopia.

  Athenais stopped walking. “He did what?”

  They killed his family. He was out of his mind.

  “That damned moron!” Athenais cried. “The last thing we want is for the Utopia to get mixed in with this mess. Where is Ragnar now?”

  Dallas’s room, sleeping. He’s back in his original form…I had to put him under when he attacked me.

  Athenais felt a stab of curiosity and hesitated. She’d never seen Ragnar in his natural state before.

  It’s not pretty, Stuart said. You don’t want to see him right now. Just take my word for it.

  Athenais grimaced. “Fine, but I’ve got news for you, Stuart. We need to find you a host, and we need to do it now. Juno’s been threatening to dump me in the deep ocean with weights on my ankles. The pressure would pop you like a stuffed maggot.”

  Please don’t say things like that.

  Athenais chuckled. “Someone’s got to keep you humble.”

  Believe me, after today, I don’t think I’ll ever have the capacity to be anything but humble, ever again. All I have to do is think of a cleaning bucket and I might throw up.

  “Speaking of cleaning buckets, that soap burns, doesn’t it? I wonder what they use in it.”

  Lye, most like.

  “Ouch. Sorry. I dunked you thinking it would help clean you off.”

  It’s not a problem. I was too numb to feel it. Besides, I’m more worried about it poisoning your brain.

  Athenais scowled. “Then let’s hurry. I want to get on the roof and signal Fairy before Juno wakes up.”

  Why? Where’s Dallas?

  “Fairy took Retribution right before we came across your little debacle with the cleaner-boy. Really pissed Juno off. I think she was angry at herself for not realizing her parlor tricks hadn’t worked on Fairy and was taking it out on you. Ironically, I guess she had the right victim.”

  You said Dallas is on Retribution? How’d that happen?

  “Don’t know. Somehow Fairy got hold of the ship. Probably because of the storm. Makes me think Juno’s gotten complacent, all these years running this place.”

  There was a long pause. Then, You know, Dallas would like you a lot more if you stopped calling her Fairy.

  Athenais snorted. “And I’d like to have Beetle back, but that’s not going to happen either.” She stopped, spotting an elderly Stranger tugging a handcart through the hall. “There we go. Hold tight a sec.” Athenais jogged forward and, with a lightning-fast roundhouse to the chest, she flattened the Stranger. As the stunned old woman was staring up at her, she dropped to her chest, grabbed the woman’s head by her tattooed chin and said, “Time to shine.”

  The transfer went smoother than she would have thought. The old woman had only begun to scream when Stuart cut her off with a choking gasp.

  Athenais stood up, letting Stuart’s head fall to the floor. “Now get out of here. Go get Ragnar and get to the roof. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Stuart reached out and caught her arm and she was walking away.

  “Thanks, Athenais.”

  “And don’t talk,” Athenais said. “You sound drunk. They kill drunkards, here.” At that, she turned and trotted down the hall toward the spaceport. Behind her, she heard the suzait stumble away in the opposite direction, dragging the cart out of sight of the main hall before he made his escape.

  Athenais jogged down several flights of stairs, not even knowing which floor she was on until she reached the bottom. Ahead of her, dark waves thrashed against the windows, thundering down the hall, making the floor shake. Briefly, Athenais wondered if Taal was out there somewhere, waiting for her to come back for him.

  Scoffing, Athenais shook her head. Some people were so gullible. Especially when they wanted something.

  Stuart opened the door to Dallas’s room and crept inside. The bag was still in the corner, the shifter inside. He breathed a sigh of relief—he wasn’t sure what he would have done if Ragnar had been awake. He was incredibly weak—it was difficult just to walk straight. Stuart went to the sack and hefted it over his shoulder.

  The motion almost threw him backwards. Stuart dropped the bag, uncomprehending. It was so light. Had Ragnar eaten that
much of himself already? He bent down and prodded the sack.

  Bedding.

  Stuart flipped the sack over and stared at the hole in the bottom. Oh, no. He got up quickly, wondering how he was going to find Ragnar fast enough. Maybe the shifter had gone to look for Dallas. Stuart went to the door at a trot, hoping he got there before Ragnar got himself killed.

  He hadn’t taken three steps when something caught him in the throat, knocking him back against the wall hard enough to jar Stuart inside his host’s brain.

  “We’ll finish it later, eh, Stuart?” Ragnar’s voice was an animal growl. “How about we finish it now?”

  Stuart tried to respond, but the grip on his throat was choking him. He reached up and tried to pull the shifter away, but the muscles holding him in place were inhumanly strong.

  Ragnar released him suddenly and stepped back while Stuart gasped for air.

  “I can’t believe you threw me in a sack.”

  Sucking in a lungful of air, Stuart managed, “You wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  “Where’s Dallas?” Like any good L’kota royal, he was a master at changing the subject.

  “Athenais told me she stole Retribution.” Regaining his breath, Stuart slumped against the wall, hanging his head in exhaustion. His host was fine—it was Stuart himself who was tired. One of the first times in his life that Stuart could barely keep his eyes open. Just too much had happened, the psycho-emotional strain had been too great…

  “She did?” Ragnar asked, oblivious. “Good for her. When did you talk to Athenais? Where is she?”

  “I’m not sure,” Stuart managed. “She wants to meet us on the roof. Thinks Dallas will meet us up there.”

  “What about Rabbit?”

  “I haven’t seen him,” Stuart admitted. “If he’s been with Juno the whole time… I think he might be in trouble.”

  Ragnar glanced at the window. “So what, we just climb to the top of the wall and wait for her to show up?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Better than standing in the sheeting rain trying not to get blown off the roof?” Ragnar glanced at the lightning through the window as it was blurred by seventy feet of sea-green wave. “Not really.”

  “Then let’s go. Do you think you can get a signal to Dallas?”

  “I could, but every other ship in range would pick it up, too.” Ragnar frowned at him. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Not really,” Stuart whispered. “Tired. Am gonna need your help getting to the roof.” Then he frowned, replaying what Ragnar had said in his mind. “Wait. You mean you guys don’t have your own special frequency?”

  “What guys?”

  “You know,” Stuart said, waving his hand weakly. “Pirates.”

  Ragnar snorted. “Is my name ‘Squirrel?’ When you said ‘get a signal to her,’ I thought you meant light up a few firecrackers and wave our hands really high. You saw the basic slapdash stuff I did upstairs. I don’t know codes, man.”

  “Me neither,” Stuart said, trying to stave off that hopeless feeling that was building with each new setback. He would get out of here. He would find Dallas again. He would help them both get off this planet. “I guess we’ll have to wave. Come on.”

  They left the room, turned down the first staircase they saw, and began to climb. At the top story, a tiny escape hatch led to the roof, but as soon as they pushed the hatch open, it was ripped from their hands and slammed against the wall beside them. Pellets of water as sharp as needles whipped through the opening, soaking them in moments.

  “Ladies first,” Ragnar said.

  His host’s arthritic hands trembling, Stuart climbed past the shifter and out onto the roof. He had to bend down almost horizontally to keep his footing, the wind plastering his wet clothes to his host’s body. Unfortunately, the body Athenais had chosen was less than ideal—well past middle age. He stumbled backwards several paces, unable to hold up against the screeching wind. Another blast of warm saltwater hit him full-on, throwing him backwards. He immediately lost his balance and the screaming wind began shoving him across the roof like a runaway wind-sock. He hit the waist-high safety wall at the edge of the precipice and was going over the edge when Ragnar grabbed him and pulled him back to the hatch.

  Stuart fell through the opening and landed on the damp stone below, shivering and shocked. Above him, Ragnar slammed the hatch shut and locked it. Water dripped down the wet door, falling on them as they stood on the staircase, breathing hard.

  “Any other bright ideas?” Ragnar said.

  “That was it.”

  “I’ve got one,” Ragnar said, clapping his hands together like a happy child. “How about we go find you a better body!” The L’kota’s face darkened and he dropped his hands. “What’s the hell’s matter with you?!”

  “No,” Stuart said, water dripping from his host’s graying hair. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

  Ragnar grunted and glanced down the huge, empty hallway beneath them. Most of the inhabitants of this place, it seemed, avoided the upper floors during a storm. Either that or they were all off somewhere else. They hadn’t seen a single soul since leaving Dallas’s room.

  “You ask me, the Utopia should wipe all these bastards out,” Ragnar said, his eyes focused on the distant curve of the hallway. “The whole place is sick.”

  “They probably will,” Stuart said.

  “Then let’s go get you something better,” Ragnar growled. “If they’re all about to die, you might as well take your pick.”

  Stuart shook his head. “I can wait.”

  “You’re not going to be much good in a fight, you know.”

  “I don’t plan on getting into a fight.”

  “Oh, I forgot. That’s what your kind are good at. Laying low.”

  “War doesn’t interest us.”

  “Everything’s fair game to you, right?”

  “Everything except shifters.”

  Ragnar snorted. “You’d take us, too, if you could.”

  “I wouldn’t take anybody if I could get away with it,” Stuart said, irritated. Didn’t anybody understand? Even the other aliens in the world thought he was doing this out of his own selfishness.

  Then, that nagging little part of him said, Well, you are, aren’t you? What other reason did he have to take a host, other than selfishness? What was it going to hurt the universe, really, if a two-and-a-half inch parasite died on the bottom of somebody’s boot?

  Stuart stood on the steps, caught between irritation and that old self-loathing. Irritation, because he shouldn’t have to feel bad for surviving, after his entire people and their way of life was utterly and purposefully destroyed by a petty, vindictive, small-minded race that happened to have opposable thumbs. Self-loathing, because he couldn’t count the number of lives he had destroyed, to save his own.

  Ragnar began climbing down the staircase, forcing Stuart to get out of his way.

  “You know the difference between your kind and mine, Stuart?”

  Stuart reached the floor and moved aside as Ragnar pushed past him. “You’re a thousand times bigger than us?”

  “No. We’re not afraid to fight for ourselves. If humans start exterminating us, we exterminate them. We don’t run and hide.”

  Stuart felt that bitterness rising up in his chest again and he gave the shifter a sour look. Ragnar had his own built-in camouflage, his own body. He wasn’t helpless on his own. He would never understand. “I’m helping you, aren’t I?” Stuart muttered.

  “And I’m still surprised about that,” Ragnar said. “You’ve had plenty of chances to disappear.” Ragnar turned to raise a curious brow at him. “Why are you here?”

  Stuart grimaced. “I told your father I’d help him.”

  “Why?” Ragnar demanded. “Seems to go against the nature of every parasite I’ve ever met. Tell me as we walk.” He started at a brisk pace down the hall, giving Stuart the choice of either following or being left behind.

&nbs
p; “Where are we going?” Stuart demanded, catching up.

  “I’m hungry. I’m finding the kitchen in this blasted place.” He gave Stuart an impatient look. “So? Why’d you say you’d help?”

  Stuart looked at the floor. Why had he decided to help? After an entire lifetime of skulking in the shadows, he hadn’t even really thought about it when he’d offered his services. He just knew he had to.

  But why? Stuart was just as puzzled about why he had stepped from hiding to help the shifters. He could have survived another five millennia unseen, unheard. Yet something had pushed him to take that step, to go with them on their lunatic’s quest.

  Maybe it was to make up for all the lives he’d destroyed, a way to try and right all the wrongs he had committed on innocent strangers, but if that was the case, the shifters’ mission was just as destructive, if not more so. Instead of one person a decade or so, he would be killing billions, if not trillions. He would be throwing an entire culture back into its dark ages.

  Stuart had heard of others of his kind, ancients that had finally snapped under the pressure of having to use unwilling hosts. It was their insanity that humanity’s nightmares were made of. And, after a time, it seemed all the older ones got it. It was a sickness that ate at the soul, devoured it in a slow inward putrefaction, and left a rotten husk in its place. It was those suzait who started taking hosts as the humans had always feared they would, using them only as temporary housing before moving on, killing without need, taking at a whim.

  …like Stuart was doing now.

  “Well?” Ragnar demanded. “I know you’ve got some sort of reason for all this.”

  Finally, Stuart said, “I owed them.” It was the best reason he could come up with, because logic was failing him, and he didn’t want to think about the alternative.

  “Oh?” Ragnar asked, raising a brow.

  Stuart nodded, remembering. “Utopian S.O. officers found me on Roth last year. They killed my host, forced me out, and put me in a holding container. They were shipping me to Millennium when Morgan saw me in the terminal. He and Paul overpowered the two guards and freed me.”