On the surface, it’s not a completely crazy idea. Well. The Wrax are crazy if they think they can defeat the Commonwealth, or that because the people of Ventimosk grumble about taxes and bureaucracy they’d be willing to knuckle under to a bunch of lizards. Clearly Xythiss has not read much of our history, which is about eighty percent doomed last stands against impossible odds. But given that he thinks he can pull that off, having a puppet monarch to put on the throne seems like a good way to go, and who better than the runaway princess playing at thief-with-a-heart-of-gold?
More importantly, by showing me this, Xythiss has made it clear that I’m not walking out of here a free woman. Either I sign on to this scheme, or he’ll have to dispose of me for knowing too much.
Fortunately, I have a plan, and it isn’t Plan Z.
I hope Ahn is all right. They wouldn’t hurt her before Xythiss gets what he wants from me, would they? I made it clear enough that I wouldn’t cooperate if he did.
My fingers tighten around the Skolig.
“I'm sorry,” I tell him, “this is just a lot to take in.”
“I understand.” His tongue flicks. “But you appreciate that our position here is precarious. I require an answer.”
“You’ve got the defenses at Anaxomander Gap wrong, though.” I step closer and point to the wall display. “There are three battle stations, not one, and they’re closer to the edge of the system.”
Xythiss blinks, then turns to examine the map more closely. “Impossible. Our plans are based on the latest intelligence—”
At which point I hit him very hard on the side of the head with a priceless gemstone.
* * *
Knocking out an alien is always tricky business, but the Wrax are humanoid enough that the procedure is similar. Xythiss stumbles sideways and sprawls on the floor with barely a squeak. I polish a little green blood off the Skolig and tuck it back in a pocket, then step to the console. A few moments later, a data crystal joins the gemstone, and I gesture the display off.
Time to think about getting out of here. I go to the door, tap the pad to open it a hand’s breadth, and call to the guards outside.
“Custodian Xythiss requires the human prisoner Drav,” I tell them.
There’s a long silence. I picture them looking at one another.
“If I could speak to him—” one says.
“Custodian Xythiss is busy,” I snap, with my best royal hauteur. “He ordered that he not be disturbed.”
Another silence, then an affirmative hiss. One of the guards walks away.
I spend five minutes pacing back and forth, fretting about Ahn. I have the presence of mind to make sure Xythiss’s unconscious body isn’t visible from the doorway, though, so when the guards return with Drav, they don’t see anything obviously amiss. I wave them away, and they leave the smuggler and shut the door behind him.
Drav has cleaned himself up, thankfully. He raises his eyebrows at me, and I beckon him closer, until he can see Xythiss stashed behind the bed. He gives a low whistle.
“I’m assuming,” I say, “that you’re not thrilled about working with a bunch of murderous lizards.”
He looks at Xythiss for a moment, and my pulse slams in my throat. This is the most dangerous bit—if Drav has cut some kind of private deal with the Wrax, I am fucked. Last time I met him, he struck me as a run-of-the-mill scoundrel, but loyal to Kestra. But I’ve been wrong before.
“No,” he says, with a slight spacer drawl. “I can’t say that the prospect has me enthused.”
“Then you wouldn’t be averse to working together to get the fuck out of here?” I produce the Skolig and give it a twirl, spraying rainbows. “In exchange for, say, a share in the proceeds? Assuming you’re privy to enough of Kestra’s contacts to sell it on.”
“I don’t think I’d be averse to that at all,” he says, smile widening.
“Good.” I tuck the Skolig away. “If you can get us off the ship and back to the asteroid, I can get us to the Wild Ride and we can be in hyperspace before the lizard wakes up.”
This is another gamble, but a safer one. If I know anything about smuggler ships, it’s that they tend to be fitted with a bunch of extremely non-standard passages, tunnels, and crawl spaces, ideal for avoiding the attention of any snooping authorities. Sure enough, Drav gives a confident nod.
“I can manage that,” he says.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
He grins. After taking a moment to claim Xythiss’s hidden blaster pistol, he leads me into the cabin’s small washroom, where a wall panel pops off with a few sharp raps. Behind it is a narrow corridor, sandwiched between the outer hull and the inner bulkheads. It’s low enough we have to walk bent over, the murmur of the ship’s systems washing over us.
“So how did Xythiss and his goons manage to get on board?” I ask quietly. “I thought Kestra was more careful than that.”
“Times have been hard lately, and we needed a big score.” Drav grimaces. “Xythiss and his entourage paid well. He said he was a merchant who needed escorting around Commonwealth space without official questions. When we heard from you, he acted very interested in that gemstone. Then once we get here, it turns out his big cargo container of ‘merchandise’ is full of battle armor and wardroids.”
“Ouch,” I sympathize.
“Fucking lizards.” He holds up a hand. “Gotta be quiet for a bit. There’s a hidden tunnel under the docking corridor, but if anyone’s up there they’ll hear us.”
I nod and follow his lead. He kneels by a small opening at floor level, barely large enough to crawl through on hands and knees. After listening for a moment, he scoots into it. I follow, with only a slight sigh at the thought of the dust that’s going to get all over my beautiful, swoopy dress. Can’t look a proper space pirate with gray streaks messing up your black and red. But needs must.
At one point, Drav freezes as heavy footfalls pass directly over our heads. But no one notices our hushed breathing, and once they’re past, we keep crawling, until Drav pushes loose another panel and we emerge at the other end of the Alcie’s boarding tunnel. Drav wiggles out, pistol first. The rocky corridor is empty, the lock behind us closed and dark.
“I hope you know where to go from here,” he says, “because I sure as fuck don’t.”
“I grabbed a map off Xythiss’s console.” I turn slightly, lining my memory up with the dead-reckoning sense in my head. “This way. Come on.”
We hurry down the tunnels as quietly as we can, ducking into side junctions whenever we hear an approaching Wrax. Fortunately, Xythiss’s soldiers think they’re alone and make plenty of noise. Most are heading back to the Alcie, presumably wondering what’s keeping their boss. Eventually, somebody is going to overcome their reticence and break into his cabin. We’d better be well away from here by then.
“Shh,” Drav says, crouching by a tunnel entrance. “There’s a guard.”
We’re back at the central cavern. All roads lead through here, unfortunately, which makes it a good place to post a watchman. I risk a quick glance and spot an armored Wrax, blaster rifle in hand, walking a slow circuit.
“Can you hit him from here?” I ask, nodding to the pistol.
Drav shakes his head. “With that armor, it’ll take a head shot to be sure.”
Ahn would have been able to make the shot. Ah well. “I’ll get him closer then.” I brush dust off my dress. “Be ready.”
Before he can say anything, I step into the open. The Wrax hears me and turns, rifle coming up. Whatever he was expecting, though, it’s not me in full imperious stride. I figured he wouldn’t shoot, since he last saw me in the boss’s company, but I can’t deny my heart beats a little faster until he lowers the weapon.
“What... you... doing here?” His words are a choking hiss, with none of Xythiss’s sophistication.
“I’ve come to collect you, of course,” I tell him. “Custodian Xythiss wants to speak to everyone, now that we’ve come to an arrangement.”
>
“You... prisoner!” He raises the rifle as I get closer. “Sssstay back!”
I hold up my hands and put on a demure smile. “Well, not a prisoner, but I’m certainly not going anywhere. Come on.” I loop one arm around his and bat my eyes. Probably wasted effort, given that he’s a lizard, but you hear stories. “Custodian Xythiss is waiting.”
“Waiting?” He looks confused, but allows me to tug him forward a few steps. Then he shakes his head. “Musssst check in. Orders.” He reaches for a control pad at his throat.
“He did say he was in a hurry,” I manage, dragging the guard another step. “Just ask him yourself.”
“No!” He pulls away from me, raising his rifle again. “You, hands up!”
The Wrax takes a couple of steps back, putting him well out of my reach. Fortunately, since I managed to turn him around, this also puts him within a meter of Drav’s hiding place. The smuggler emerges, pistol raised, and I sidestep neatly to avoid being caught in the spray of lizard-bits. The headless guard sprawls on the floor, rifle clattering away.
“You,” Drav says, “have got some serious guts, I have to admit.” He shakes his head. “What would you have done if he’d started shooting?”
“Fucking died, obviously,” I say. “But in this line of work you develop a sense for itchy trigger fingers.” I let out a breath and point to another tunnel. “All right. That way.”
Drav’s eyes narrow, and he points another direction. “Your ship is that way. I saw it when you came in.”
Damn. I was hoping not to have to explain. “It is, but Xythiss has got Ahn locked up over there. We need to grab her before we get out.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” he says. “There’s a half-dozen wardroids with her, and they’ll be on to us any minute now. We’ll get slaughtered.”
“I have a few ideas.”
“I’ll hear them once we’re out of here,” he says. “Besides, the fewer shares the better, right?”
“Ahn’s my partner.” For my sins.
“You can find a new partner.” He grins. “Hell, we might do pretty well together, have you considered that?”
I give a tired sigh, because I can see exactly where this is going. “I’m not leaving without her.”
“Really,” he says. “What’s she got that I don’t?”
For starters, I think, as he turns the gun on me, I trust her. And she trusts me. No Plan Z, I’d told her, and she’d gone along quietly when a bunch of lizards marched her to a cell. Trust was important to me when I was a princess. Now that I’m a thief, it’s a commodity more valuable than even the Skolig.
Plus, of course, she’s a hell of a lot better looking than Drav.
I shrug.
“Fair enough.” Drav aims the blaster at my chest. “I’ll take the gem and be on my way, then.”
“How unexpected.” I raise my hands. “It’s in my pocket.”
“Slowly,” he says.
I extract the Skolig, and he points to the floor. With another sigh, I set the gemstone down and back away. He shuffles forward, snatches it up, and backs off again.
“I guess this is where we say goodbye, then,” he says. “Unless you want to change your mind.”
“Aiming a gun at me is not helping your argument,” I tell him.
“Nothing personal.” He reaches the tunnel’s mouth and salutes me with the weapon. “Another time, Princess. Good luck with the lizards.”
Then he’s gone, running toward the Wild Ride. His footsteps fade away, and I sigh for a third time.
I really didn’t want to do this. My poor dress.
I pick up the guard’s blaster rifle, make sure I know how to fire it, and go to the wall. Picking a section that bulges outward, I deliver a few hard kicks. It cracks open like an eggshell, revealing darkness beyond.
* * *
The thing about AH-1310 is that it’s not really an asteroid. It’s a waxworm nest.
It looks like an asteroid, which is the whole point, as far as the waxworms are concerned. Only if you did a really detailed subsurface scan would you notice the sinuous tunnels running everywhere, just below the larger spaces that long-ago humans sealed off and pumped full of air.
Waxworms are large, harmless creatures with a complicated life cycle, one segment of which involves a sort of space orgy. A writhing ball of worms, furiously mating in all directions, builds up a nest out of their waxy secretions. Where the stuff is exposed to vacuum, it goes hard as rock, leaving an asteroid-like object shot through with weird tunnels, perfect for unsuspecting guests to take over.
The worms have long since moved on (or, more accurately, metamorphosed into space-going moths coasting on diaphanous lightsails) but the nest is still here. Under the thin shell, it’s a spaghetti-like mess of tunnels just about wide enough for a human to move through, if said human were willing to hold her breath and deal with the fact that the place is still half-full of worm secretions.
I thought this particular quirk of AH-1310 might come in handy, and so it has proved, but I really, really hoped I wouldn’t have to use it, or at least would have the chance to change into a spacesuit first. The worm goo isn’t toxic, but it smells awful, like rotting meat.
Once again, though, needs must.
I take a lungful of air and climb through the opening I’ve made, rifle first. It’s like stepping into gelatin, not quite liquid but definitely not solid either, light enough that I can make reasonable progress with a sort of half-shuffle, half-swim. The map in Xythiss’s console helpfully indicated the old storeroom where they’re holding Ahn, and combined with my inborn navigation talent—thanks again, great-to-the-whatever-grandma—it’s not too difficult to worm (pun somewhat intended) my way there. By the time I arrive, my lungs are burning, but breathing in is too horrible to contemplate. I slam the butt of the rifle against the wall until the rocky shell breaks, letting me slide out with a gush of waxy, gray fluid, like some horrible mutant birth.
Ahn, sitting on a dusty crate, jumps to her feet in alarm, then rushes over as I clamber up onto my hands and knees, dripping slime.
“Ilya!”
“Please don’t kiss me,” I say, getting up, “I’m—”
She kisses me, then backs away, making a face.
“—covered in worm goo,” I finish wearily. “Love you, too.”
“Are you all right?” she says. “I’ve been really worried.”
“Am I all right? I’m here to rescue you, aren’t I?” I run my fingers through my hair and whip a handful of slime to the ground. “I have everything under control.”
“I’ll bet.” She gives me her lopsided grin. “Have you still got the Skolig?”
“Not exactly. Drav took it when he ran off to steal the Wild Ride. But I’ve got something better.” I pat my pocket, where the data crystal from Xythiss’s room is still safe. “Wrax invasion plans, signed and sealed. I figure delivering these to Commonwealth intelligence should get them off our backs and score us a fat bounty in the bargain.”
“Brilliant.” She frowns. “But how are we getting out of here if Drav took the Ride?”
“The Ride will still be waiting. I didn’t give Drav the trap code.” Some time ago, we equipped the ship with a mechanism that floods the cockpit with a powerful neuroelectric stun field if the proper code isn’t entered at startup, with exactly this sort of situation in mind. “So we can pick up the Skolig on the way out as well.”
“Fucking brilliant.” Ahn hugs me, in spite of the slime. “I knew you’d come up with something.”
“You really did, didn’t you?” I stare at her for a moment, then shake my head. What did I do to earn trust like that? Or to deserve it?
“Something wrong?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
I turn to the storeroom door. It’s locked from the outside, but a blast from the rifle fixes that. Ahn’s pistol belt is lying nearby, and I toss it to her. She buckles it on with a big smile, looking fully dressed again.
The wa
rdroids have heard the shot, of course. I see lights flicker at the other end of the corridor as they clank toward us to investigate.
“Now what?” Ahn says, eagerly. “Time for Plan Z?”
I look at her, then down at my ruined dress and the blaster rifle in my hands. I can feel my own grin spreading.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Definitely time for Plan Z.”
Little Birds
by Cara Patterson
All eyes followed the sultan’s Little Birds as they marched towards the palace in twelve ranks of four abreast, indigo robes embroidered with the silver crescent moon and headscarves patterned with silver wings.
Aiyla led the column through the gates, leaning on her staff to steady herself. For fourteen years, more than half her life, she had donned the indigo, and now she was the oldest. The youngest were scarcely beyond the first bloom of womanhood, following her guidance.
The life of a Little Bird was not a long one. There was no shame in returning a wounded warrior. Those who survived battle after battle and returned to the skies were respected, even revered. For each successful flight, they received a silver star. Aiyla’s uniform was a constellation.
The chief eunuch greeted them inside the private palace courtyard. He was a plump man with a warm smile.
“The valide welcomes you,” he said in his high, fluting voice. “Please follow me.”
They had been summoned by the sultan’s mother before, and they would be again. Not men, but not quite women, they were the only members of the sultan’s military who could pass into the harem unquestioned. They were novelties to the ladies of the harem. Oddities to be appreciated and enjoyed.
At the foot of a staircase, Nuray reached out to Aiyla. They supported one another, the Little Birds, and offered a hand when one’s feet were unsteady. Nuray winced in sympathy at Aiyla’s labored steps, then drew back as soon as they were on even ground. The cohort paused there, unpinning their veils and shaking dust from their skirts.
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