The Queen's Daemon (T'aafhal Legacy Book 2)

by Doug L. Hoffman

  The Gunny exited next, headed directly for the wreckage. She was followed by Bobby in his light armor, looking small and childlike next to the Marines. Overhead, a basketball sized recon drone appeared, drifting silently above the investigators.

  As Bobby examined the wreckage using the drone's ground penetrating radar the butterflies explored the cliff face and surrounding debris. Umky and Bosco watched the Jumbo Twins as they approached the edge of the clearing.

  * * * * *

  “Zeke, don't get too close to the underbrush,” said Mal on suit-to-suit.

  Zeke paused and turned toward his brother. “Come on, bro, there ain't nothing here. The shuttle's repulsors blew this crap all around as we landed—it would have scared any local critters off.”

  As he was speaking the brush in front of him quivered ever so slightly. The large green fronds parted and a gray spider-like creature the size of a wild boar burst from cover and landed on Zeke's shoulder. Proving its intentions beyond a reasonable doubt, the spider attempted to sink its venomous fangs into the Marine's helmeted head.

  “Ayyyiii,” Zeke cried, waving his arms around. As flexible as the armored suits were they did restrict the wearer's arm movement. The spider had landed in the one place that Zeke could not easily reach with his armored mitts.

  “Get it off! Get it off!” he shrieked, hopping around like a spastic humanoid robot.

  Answering his brother's cries for help, Mal stepped up beside him and delivered a roundhouse, open handed blow that swatted the spider from Zeke's shoulder. In a jumble of legs and squirting body fluid the hairy attacker flew through the air and disappeared into the thick foliage. The blow also knocked the hopping Zeke off his feet, leaving him face down in decaying organic matter.

  “What the hell did you do that for,” the now spider free Zeke demanded, pushing his upper body up out of the muck.

  “You said get it off of you,” Mal replied, a bit indignant at his brother's lack of appreciation for his actions. “You were freaking out, man. That thing looked like it was trying to eat your head.”

  “You could have just pulled it off of me. You didn't have to almost knock me out!”

  “That's BS and you know it, I didn't hit you that hard.” Mal attempted to give his brother a hand up but the proffered hand was knocked away as Zeke struggled to his feet. As he stood upright both brothers' attention was drawn to a violent shaking of the oversized ferns and tree limbs in the area where the spider had landed. The commotion continued as other, unseen predators made a quick meal of the now deceased arachnid.

  * * * * *

  Back by the shuttle, Umky nudged Bosco and said, “What's with those two?”

  The human Marine watched the antics of the two brothers as they hopped around trying to fend off their hairy, multilegged attacker.

  “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” Bosco commented. He looked up at Umky and explained. “is old Russian saying.”

  “Heh, that's a good one,” the bear replied. “Not my monkeys. I'll have to remember that.”

  Their observation of the twins was interrupted when the Gunny called them over to the wreckage at the base of the cliff. Most of the wreckage was covered in fallen rock but what was left of the small shuttle's rear airstair door was still identifiable. The crumpled opening was far too small to allow any of the armored Earthlings access. The Gunny had sent her suit's recon drone—a baseball sized robot that was intended to scout ahead for enemies—into the small opening. The video it returned showed a jumbled mess, but no bodies.

  “The ground penetrating radar from the big recon drone shows that the front of the shuttle was totally crushed by the impact,” Bobby said grimly. “I can't really tell what happened to the crew without going inside. Let's see if we can excavate around the opening a bit—maybe I can wriggle in for a look.”

  The bear looked first to the Gunny, then back at Bobby. “If you don't mind, Commander, I think I have a faster way of telling what's in there than that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Umky's helmet unfolded from around his face, retracting into his suit, leaving his head exposed.

  “Oh wow,” he exclaimed, waving a platter sized armored paw in front of his muzzle. “Damn this planet stinks!”

  “Er, what does it smell like?” asked Bobby, somewhat at a loss to comprehend the polar bear's actions.

  “It smells like insects, lizard shit, and rotting plants. And I thought it smelled bad on the ship!”

  The humans looked at each other, trying to figure out what the bear hoped to accomplish by opening his suit to the native atmosphere. Umky moved forward and stuck his nose into the hole that was the only entrance into the wreck. He sniffed.

  “Well, there's dead humans in there, too far gone to tell who or even how many.”

  He pulled back and started sniffing around the area, nose down like a bloodhound. He moved ten meters away from the wreck and then sat back on his haunches. “One of them made it out alive.”

  Bobby was flummoxed. “What? Can you tell who it was?”

  Umky looked back at him. “Yeah, it was Dr. Ogawa.”

  Bobby's head swam. He was torn between anguish over the lost crewmembers and elation that Mizuki had somehow lived through the crash. “Are you sure it was Mizuki?” he asked.

  Umky snorted.

  “You primates are real visual critters, Commander. Is there any one of the crew you wouldn't recognize on sight?”

  “Well, no.”

  “A polar bear's primary sense is smell and I have been locked up with you humans inside a metal tube for more than a year. There isn't a one of you I don't know by scent.”

  “I didn't mean to doubt your word, Umky,” Bobby apologized. “I just never realized that you could do that. No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” Umky looked back at the surrounding forest. “Dr. Ogawa exited the shuttle and headed out that way, through the jungle.”

  CIC, Peggy Sue

  Billy Ray, Beth and Betty White were in the CIC monitoring the surface party on the big 3D display tank. Views from suit cameras appeared on the displays lining the walls, as did medical readouts for each of Marines and crew down below. Those present had refrained so far from peppering the ground personnel with questions, not wishing to distract from their investigation. Finally the comm channel squawked.

  “Peggy Sue, Rescue Leader.”

  Billy Ray replied. “Rescue Leader, we read you five-by-five. Go ahead.”

  “We have ascertained that two of the shuttle crew died in the crash. One survived and left the area on foot.”

  “Copy that, Rescue Leader. Interrogative the names of the KIAs?”

  “Katrin Hamm and Nigel Lewis.”

  “Does that mean Mizuki survived?” Beth asked her husband in a harsh whisper.

  Billy Ray held up a hand to forestall more questions. “We copy, Shuttle One. Crewman Hamm and Lieutenant Lewis are confirmed as deceased. Please verify the survivor.”

  Bobby's reply was laced with emotion. “Affirmative, Peggy Sue. Dr. Mizuki Ogawa was not found in the wreckage and Mr. Umky says there is a scent trail leading from the crash site into the jungle.”

  Relief lit up both women's faces when Bobby confirmed that Mizuki survived the crash. Their elation faded quickly as they realized their possibly wounded friend had been stranded on a hostile planet for over a week. That her body was not among the wreckage kept hope alive, but the odds of her survival were still not good.

  “It's great news that Mizuki survived the crash, Bobby. What are your next steps?”

  “When we came in I noticed there was a river a couple of valleys to the north, with what looked like a road alongside it. I have a hunch that's the way Mizuki was headed and I'm thinking we should go to the road and let Umky check for signs she passed that way with his Mark 1 Mod 1 sniffer.”

  “Roger that, Rescue Leader.”

  “Peggy Sue, interrogative regarding the remains of the deceased?”

  “Wait
one.” The Captain muted the comm.

  “Aw hell,” He said to the two women gathered around the display table. “Betty, what do you think? Is there any reason to try and recover the remains?”

  “I don't know, Billy Ray. It doesn't sound like there's much to recover.”

  “And they would have to excavate the whole wreck to get at them.” Beth shifted uncomfortably. “I know we don't leave our people behind, but to expend a lot of time and energy to recover some nearly unidentifiable body parts doesn't seem a reasonable thing to do.”

  “Neither of the deceased had any known family back home, so there'd be no reason to repatriate the remains. Which means we'd do a burial in space.” This had been done for other lost crewmembers on other missions—their remains launched from the ship in sealed coffins, which were then vaporized by the X-ray laser batteries.

  “From the images of the crash site, they both died instantly on impact,” Betty said. “They are beyond caring what we do with the aftermath.”

  “Betty's right, Captain. And we need to destroy the wreckage in any case.”

  “Right.” Billy Ray made a command decision. “Rescue Leader, Peggy Sue.”

  “Go, Peggy Sue,” came the immediate reply.

  “Unless you've got a compelling reason not to, pardner, I want you to blow the wreckage with an antimatter charge. Enough to vaporized the shuttle and the remains.”

  After a slight pause, Bobby replied. “Aye, aye, Peggy Sue. We'll take care of it, and then head for the river.”

  “Very good, Rescue Leader. Peggy Sue out.”

  Shuttle Crash Site

  Bobby and the Gunny stood near the wreckage. The Gunny handed Bobby a grapefruit sized silver sphere. “Everyone's back on board, Sir. The charge is set to fifteen minutes delay.”

  “Thanks Gunny,” Bobby said, accepting the AM bomb. “Get aboard, I'll be right behind you.”

  The Gunny turned, jogged to the shuttle and up the rear ramp. Bobby walked over to the jagged hole leading inside the fallen shuttle. Above him, the butterflies formed a swirling wreath in dark somber colors reflecting his mood. Boby was not a very religious man, but the circumstances seemed to call for some form of prayer. From memory he recalled the words from a Navy funeral he once attended.

  “Grant eternal rest to them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.”

  He armed the bomb and tossed it underhand into the dark hole in the wreckage. Before heading back to the shuttle he spoke a final benediction, words heard at the funerals of many a mariner. “Farewell shipmates, may you have fair winds and following seas.”

  * * * * *

  As soon as Cmdr. Danner was back on board Frank secured the rear ramp and lifted the shuttle from the clearing. They had all heard Bobby's words over the comm and, religious or not, they all mourned the loss of their shipmates.

  “They died too young.” Frank's voice held both sadness and anger.

  “That they did, Frank-O,” Jay added. “Kate was a fine sheila, a good mate, and Lieutenant Lewis might have been so British that he farted scones, but he was a top bloke.”

  “Right you are, Jay,” said Tamara from the weapon's operator station behind the two pilots. “I just hope we run into the fuckin' asswipes who shot 'em down.”

  “You and me both, Tam,” Frank replied, heading the big shuttle toward the river. “I think we would all like to find the bastards who did this.”

  Chapter 27

  Princess Timushi's Party, The Capital City

  Dawn broke, painting the walls of Formicidae's capital city red. Ruddy rays of light revealed Timushi's warriors standing in formation before the southern gate. Behind the soldier ants, who stood in regular ranks five abreast, were the Princess, Castellan, and a strange hooded figure. They were followed by a less orderly mass of attendants, functionaries, and servants.

  The gate itself was monumental in scale, standing ten meters wide and fifteen high. Its construction was cyclopean, the uprights and lintel consisting of single gigantic stones. The gate obviously predated the surrounding walls, which were made of smaller, dressed stone blocks. An attempt at integrating the massive stones with the surrounding walls had been made by carving designs into the gate's frame. Atop the walls the heads of warrior ants could be seen through the crenelations.

  “Do you need to announce your presence, Your Highness?”

  “No, Lord Mizuki. The guards can sense that I am a Princess of the royal linage. There can be only one reason for my presence—to complete my journey to the castle and claim the Queen's throne.”

  As if on cue, the massive doors creaked and swung slowly open. The warriors moved their grounded weapons to port arms and marched forward through the gate. Timushi and her companions followed, trailed by the rest of her entourage.

  Passing into the city proper, Mizuki looked about as innocuously as possible, the hood of her poncho up to hide her alien features. The wide boulevard was paved in stone, with a slightly arched cross slope to aid runoff from frequent rains. Storm gutters lined the pavement along with planters filled with large ferns.

  Set back from the planters were buildings, two and three stories tall, also constructed of stone blocks. Their moderately pitched roofs were made of slate, their windows unglazed, with shutters open to the new day. Whether the buildings were shops or domiciles was not clear. Everything was very clean, very orderly, very unlike any human city at a preindustrial level.

  The boulevard ran arrow straight for several kilometers ending at a second wall, above which the royal palace stood like a Medieval cathedral. The morning sun glinted off tall windows framed by flying buttresses—impressive even to Mizuki who had been raised in modern Tokyo.

  I can't wait to see what the palace looks like inside, Mizuki thought, playing tourist in a strange city. Hopefully we will just march into the palace and Timushi will claim her throne—then I can concentrate on signaling the ship to come rescue me.

  Princess Reishi's Party, The Capital City

  As Timushi's column advanced on the palace from the south, Reishi and her warriors approached from the north. Her soldiers' ranks were not as orderly as her sister's, but they were more numerous. And hidden at the center of the formation were dozens of bulky shapes wearing hooded cassocks. Like sinister monks on an unholy pilgrimage, the Fakkaa Commander and a hand picked platoon of commandos shuffled along thinking bloody thoughts. It was bad enough being stuck on this open sewer of a planet, with too much heat and too much humidity, without having to walk around wrapped in heavy cloaks so as not to frighten the natives.

  Unimpressed by the city and the palace's graceful spires, the Commander thought only of completing his mission. What neither party knew was that they were in a dead heat. Their long race to the capital was about to end in a tie, a tie that would transform a foot race into armed combat. If the Commander had known this his mood might have been lighter, and his anticipation keener.

  “What will we find when we arrive at the palace, Princess?”

  “As I explained last night, Commander, the palace is laid out with vaulted halls pointing north, south, and east. The throne itself is where the western arm would be, behind it being the royal brood chambers. We will enter the northern door and proceed to the steps leading to the throne itself.”

  “So you just walk in and sit down? That's it?”

  “No, of course not. There are dignitaries and officials in the palace that will come forward to inspect me—to ensure I am not deformed or in someway defective in mind or body. Once that formality is taken care of I will be led to the throne itself.”

  “And then you are queen?”

  “For all intents and purposes. The palace guard will come to view me and be bonded to my service—my pheromones will ensure all the lesser castes are faithful to me. There will be a coronation ceremony later to allow my subjects to see their new queen.”

  “Sounds
fairly straight forward.”

  “It should be, Commander. You and your warriors stay with my person and let any fighting be handled by my guards. You are my insurance, my fallback—I must ascend the throne in the traditional way if at all possible.”

  The Commander mumbled something under his breath, and then spoke aloud. “Understood, Your Highness.”

  “Look! There ahead, my warriors are climbing the steps to the palace grounds. We must hurry to catch up!”

  The Queen's Palace

  Drawing closer to the palace revealed a more complex layout than apparent from a distance. The palace itself sat on a raised platform, higher than the surrounding city. The raised plaza itself had sloping sides encased by more ancient stonework—massive stone walls ten meters high, built from large irregular stones of varied sizes and shapes. The stones were closely fitted to their neighbors with no visible gaps or mortar, like the walls of the Incan fortress of Saqsaywaman. A wide flight of stone stairs led from the boulevard to the plaza above.

  In the center of the raised area sat the palace itself, a collection of spires, flying buttresses, and panels of colored glass that could rival any Gothic cathedral. Marching with Princess Timushi's party, Mizuki found herself heading across the stone paved plaza toward the south transept of the castle. A squadron of warriors led by the Castellan preceded the Princess and her daemon through the ornately carved wooden door.

  Mizuki lowered her hood and looked around the interior in wonder. The walls were shimmering curtains of light suspended between intricately carved stone columns. Galleries and side chambers were adorned with pointed arches, and the ceiling sixty meters overhead was a ribbed vault that would have done any Medieval cathedral proud. Light from the multihued windows danced off the polished stone floors, themselves containing delicate inlaid patterns.

  If the Queen's palace took on the cruciform shape of a traditional cathedral it was certainly not for the same reasons. Still, while there were no pews for worshipers, the soaring ceilings and monumental architecture might well be considered appropriate for a place of worship. After all, those who came to these halls to petition the Queen of Formicidae revered her as a living goddess, the font of all life for her people.