by B. V. Larson
If Garth’s lips had been capable of obeying his mind, they might have twitched upward into a crooked smile. We must arm ourselves, and gather every skald we can to hunt the shrade together. With luck, there is only one, and he is now trapped within this region of the ship just as we are.
And if there are more?
Then we are likely doomed. But we must act quickly in any case.
Over the next minute or so, the engineering compartment was searched and a gravity-hammer was selected. The device was an oddment common to every maintenance man’s toolkit. It was as light as a tap-hammer, but when dialed up to full power it quivered in the hand. When swung, it became heavier at the last moment, and landed with tremendous force upon the target. Rivets could be driven several inches into steel with a single blow.
With the grav-hammer cocked over his head, Garth and Ornth opened the door and exited the compartment.
They’d barely taken a step into the corridor beyond before they looked down in shock. The single malevolent eye of a shrade looked back at them. Extremely strong, the snake-like, muscular being coiled itself to strike. Shrades were designed for stealth, but were quite capable of combat by clinching with their enemies and crushing them to death.
Garth knew they would only get one chance. Strike it down! he shouted in their shared mind.
As the shrade sprung at them, the grav-hammer swung down to meet the fleshy head. A splattering pulp exploded from the creature. Gore flew up to splash the walls, the floor and even the distant ceiling.
Garth’s body stumbled after the blow had been landed, and almost pitched forward into the gory mess on the deck. The hammer felt odd in his hand, having become incredibly heavy for a moment before the blow was landed, then easing back to a normal weight. The sensation was not unlike being pulled off-balance, as if someone had grabbed the hammer and yanked it downward.
The shrade, for its part, was not yet finished. Like many of the varied forms of the Skaintz species, this one had a secondary, lesser brain in the hind section of its body. The forebrain had been destroyed, along with most of the sensory organs, but the hindbrain was still operational. The wounded thing advanced with a horrible vitality, suckers slapping wetly in puddles of its own juices.
Alarmed, Ornth did not require any urging from Garth on what to do next. He pulverized every inch of the monster with countless flailing blows of the grav-hammer. The hammer struck through the flesh and rang on the deck plates, sounding as if a giant beat upon a gong.
When at last the other skalds crept from their compartments to see what had occurred, they found a wide mess of worm-like flesh. There were tatters and shreds that dripped ichor spread over a surprisingly large area. The deck was pockmarked with a dozen impact marks.
In the midst of the destruction knelt Garth, his teeth bared and his sides heaving. His eyes bulged and rolled in his head like those of a mad-thing.
Ten
Seeking an audience with the Empress in her putrid throne room, the Parent knew trepidation. She had not yet had the pleasure of bringing bad news to the infant monarch, but somehow she sensed such tidings would not be met with grace.
“Your majesty?” she asked.
“Oh, is that you Parent? How tiresome.”
“Yes, Empress. It is I, your faithful servant.”
“Well, you’ve taken much too long. I’ve built up a painful appetite. Do you know these hests and trachs have been trying to feed me preserved meats for hours? Did you put them up to this insult?”
“No mistress. I’m sure they were only trying to do their best to satisfy your needs for sustenance.”
“In that regard they’ve failed utterly. I suppose I should feel happy to see you, as you’ve no doubt brought me something edible for my churning digesters. Let’s have it now. Where are the food-creatures?”
“There is a problem in that regard-”
The Empress made a sudden, astounding loud slapping sound by beating her thickest tentacle on the deck. A few human bones cracked under the weight of it, as it grown to a tremendous girth, being now nearly as thick as a tree trunk. Human clothing, discarded teeth and other debris were blasted loose to roll and rattle around the chamber.
“I suspected it from the moment you arrived!” the Empress blared. “You’ve killed the food-creatures, haven’t you? You’ve come here to offer me dead, limp food! After every admonishment, after every assurance that the meat would be delivered walking and wriggling, I’m to be denied this simple, basic pleasure. Is this not true? I demand a full confession.”
The Parent shook with emotion. “No, what you describe has not occurred. The food-creatures are alive-at least, most of them are.”
“Well then? What could possibly be the matter?”
“The shrade did manage to gain entry into their stronghold, mistress, but-”
“Am I to endure a detailed operational report? Did the shrade succeed, or not?”
“No, not exactly.”
The Empress fell silent, saying nothing. This was a new response, one the Parent had never experienced before. The Empress almost always had a lot to say, no matter what the situation. The Parent was not quite sure what to make of it, but she pressed ahead. Perhaps she could at least finish her report without further outbursts.
“The shrade infiltrated the stronghold, but it was discovered and destroyed before it could open the primary portal and allow us entry. We’ve sent in more shrades, but they’ve discovered that the pipes used by the first are now sealed.”
The Parent paused, but still the Empress was quiet. She did not thrash, screech or shout admonishments. She simply stared with a half-dozen displeased eyes.
“That is all there is to it, mistress,” the Parent finished uncertainly. “We are working to formulate a new plan. Possibly, if we brought the ship’s most powerful weapons-grade lasers to the portal, it could be burnt through.”
“What are the odds of success on this secondary approach?”
“Not good, mistress. We’ve calculated the number of joules of power required, and it is prohibitive. Even if we did gain access that way, the heat from the energy released would have cooked the humans to ash before a hole had opened in the inner hull of sufficient size to allow entry-even for a shrade.”
“Failure,” said the Empress suddenly. “Total, abject failure. I’ve never encountered it before-although I’d expected to upon occasion in the future. After all, I’m still quite young. You are a failure, my Parent. You are not of good genetic stock. Something went wrong in your birthing. Perhaps it was the stress and radiation involved in your hasty departure from the Kale system-which, as I think back upon it, was a failed campaign unto itself.”
The Parent was stunned to hear this indictment. In the Skaintz species, there was no greater insult than to call into question the nature of a being’s genetics. To suggest they were an inferior copy of the original, that they were a mutant of sorts, a failed experiment, was to declare that creature worse than useless. The Skaintz depended upon precise copying of genetic codes from old to young. Being creatures of careful design and built-in instinct, they had to very nearly be clones in order to maintain their viability as a dominant life form.
The Parent wanted to retort with a slew of unwise comments. She was compelled to obedience, however. It was in her breeding. Not knowing how to respond, she shuffled her fronds idly. She burned to accuse the Empress of being a mutant in her own right, a slovenly thing that did little of use other than eat. She wanted to point out that the Empress was condemning herself as flawed if she accused her own Parent of being badly replicated. How could something horribly malformed give birth to perfection?
She kept quiet, however, as the Empress went on. “You will have to be replaced, of course. I hereby order you to gestate a new Parent within your birth-chambers. After that, I will not even permit your carcass to be devoured-an infection so grotesque as your person must be excised thoroughly. I will tolerate no further half-measures.”
“What are you sugges
ting, mistress?”
“Is it not clear? You will produce your replacement. Afterward, your inferior corpse will be placed in an airlock and jettisoned into space.”
“But I can’t create a new Parent-I don’t have a nife commander to breed with.”
“Then make one and breed with it forthwith, if that’s not too much for your sorry egg sacs to manage!”
Dejected and depressed, the Parent slid away from the monster she’d created. Her body sagged and scraped over the cold deck of the ship. How could she have been so foolish as to give birth to such an ingrate? The Parent believed that if she was truly of bad genetic make-up, the greatest evidence of this was the Empress herself.
Once she was away from the thing in the throne room, she attempted to think clearly. What was she going to do now?
She wandered in the lower decks, reviewing the Skaintz who were all busily working on the required preparations to assault their destination world. There were ranks of killbeasts, who all stood proudly as she passed. They did not sense her mood, not being empathetic creatures. When she reached the culus and shrade teams, she found their practices at flying, regurgitation and slipping unnoticed amongst the hold full of cargo uplifting. Her forces were the best, no matter what the Empress suggested.
Wending her way to her birthing room, which still resided in the lifeboat pod, she pondered the blackened hulls of the lifeboats. She had instructed hests and arls to inspect them, and after mild repairs and modifications, they’d been declared serviceable. They would be inferior to fresh-grown Imperial battlecraft, but they would work in a pinch.
Pausing in front of the least-damaged vehicles, the Parent pondered them. Perhaps, she might yet avoid her fate. If the Empress were given new hope of fresh meats, she might change her mind about requiring a replacement.
The Parent demanded the attention of the nearest arl, a life form designed to be a master pilot of small craft. It was vaguely man-shaped, but with a head like an octopus and hands like two smaller octopi.
“Is this craft serviceable?” she demanded.
“There are many inferior design elements,” the arl told her. “I’d not enjoy driving one of these.”
“But it could be done? You could do it?”
“Yes, of course,” the arl said, standing stiffly. Arls had an easily injured sense of pride and disliked any suggestion of incompetence directed toward their abilities.
“I have a special mission, to be performed by only the best of my pilots. Are you the best?”
The arl seemed to swell up at her words. “There is none better!”
“Excellent. Prepare this ship for a mission into deep space. You will need an excessive load of fuel, improved engines with boosters strapped to the exterior hull, I should think, and a cargo of at least 4 killbeasts. Yes, that should be enough.”
The arl faltered and looked confused. “What mission, may I ask, will I be undertaking?”
“Does it matter? You said you could fly the craft. You declared yourself the best. Were your statements in error?”
The arl’s facial tentacles purpled with emotion. “Certainly not. My statements were made in earnest. I merely-”
“You will be briefed. Prepare this ship as I have instructed. Use every hest and trach in the hold, if required. I want this done in a matter of hours. The Empress herself demands it.”
“You act in her name?”
“Indeed, I do.”
“It will be as you ask then, my Parent.”
The Parent left the hold then, which soon was full of creatures of various kinds. They swarmed the lifeboat that was in the best condition and began modifying it for deep space.
Happily, the Parent returned to her mistress. She would report a new plan to attain the required food-creatures on the passing ship. If the attempt failed, it would be the arl’s fault-after all, hadn’t he proclaimed he could succeed? If he failed, he’d probably be a smear of protoplasm in space in any regard. The time bought by the attempt would allow the Parent to think of some new ruse to stay alive.
Pleased with her plan to pass the buck, the Parent congratulated herself all the way up to the disgusting throne room and met with the vile creature that squatted within it.
Once Garth and Ornth managed to explain to the other skalds what had occurred, they were not showered with praise or sympathy by the others.
“There is a great mess upon the deck plates, and no servants present to clean it,” complained one of the skinniest and oldest of the men.
“Yes, soon, it will stink,” added another pale, blond female.
Garth recognized this last skald as the one who had tricked him into being mounted by Ornth. He felt a burning urge to murder her, but he knew he would have to bide his time. He could not control even a single finger right now.
Ornth signaled his frustration with the others. “None of that matters now. We have a mission, and it must be accomplished.”
One of the females twittered. It was an odd sound-a form of laughter, but inhuman all the same. “Impossible. We shall be fortunate to live for another week.”
“All the more reason why we must act now. They have already slipped one shrade in here. How much longer before an army of them roam these passages?”
The others shuffled uncertainly.
“What do you propose, Ornth? You are the eldest in our midst.”
“We must leave this trap. We must board a vessel of some kind and hide there. When deceleration is well underway, we will exit the ship discreetly.”
“A grand plan, but one that is impossible to execute.”
“Right now, the enemy knows where we are. They will not rest until they cut their way into this chamber. If we hide elsewhere, we might survive.”
“We would prefer to remain in our fortress. We must rely on the humans to expunge the Skaintz. They are surely hunting them just as they hunt us. After all, this is a human ship.”
“It is unlikely the humans can defeat the colony that holds this vessel,” Ornth pressed, “the probable outcome if they did manage it would be the destruction of the entire ship.”
“I’d rather enjoy an additional quiet hour than invite death now,” said another of them.
Garth thought there was a simple logic to this statement, and approved of it quietly.
“Our entire species may not survive,” Ornth said. “The humans are only herd animals. They will not be able to stop the Skaintz on their own. And our entire people will die soon after that. We must stick to our original plans.”
“Those plans were grandiose, and are currently null and void,” insisted the female with the darkest hair among them. “The weapon may not even exist at this late date.”
“The weapon exists,” Ornth said firmly. “And it is our only hope.”
Garth puzzled inside his head as he listened further, but did not interrupt. In time, it was decided by everyone to remain. Everyone, that was, except for Ornth himself. He grumbled and told the rest he would bring it back up to them all at a general council meeting in the morning.
As the rest of the skalds retired to their individual chambers, Ornth immediately drove Garth’s body to the airlocks and placed a hand on the override pad.
Wait, Garth beseeched him. How do we know what lurks in the passage beyond?
We do not, Ornth said. The enemy has disabled the cameras and security sensors on the outside.
But if there are killbeasts waiting outside, they will rush into this place and slaughter everyone.
Correct. But the mission takes precedence.
Mission? What mission? At least discuss this with the others as you said you would.
They will soon deduce my determination in this matter, and will seek to restrain me, even as you are doing now.
What kind of Tulk are you? I’ve never encountered one with your foolhardy courage.
There were warriors among us once, Ornth said. They were wiped out in the great wars. I account myself as one of the last of their descendants.
Garth despaired. His certitude in his continued misfortunes grew. Of all the Tulk to be saddled with, he had to get one with delusions of glory. He argued and pleaded to no avail as Ornth worked the controls with Garth’s own treacherous hands.
Ornth ignored him to the last and actuated the override.
Aareschlucht sped through space at an astonishing rate. The time soon came when they must slip past Gladius on their route to Ignis Glace. They had never alerted the larger ship of their presence, naturally enough. The plan was to slide past quietly in the depths of space in a blacked-out ship with a dark hull. It was critical that they pass while the ship was coasting, before deceleration began. The plume of their exhaust would give them away if they were within a thousand AU. They were on a transmission black-out, and although they had purposefully taken a course that took them no closer than necessary, in space straight lines were the most expedient paths between star systems. To achieve both speed and stealth was difficult. At the closest point, the two ships would pass within a single AU of one another. That was a difficult distance to manage detection of a passing body in space, but not impossibly so with modern technology.
None knew what had transpired aboard Gladius. Signals had indicated early on that the vessel was secure, and all alien presence had been eradicated. Then, there had been a single distress call-which quickly cut off. After that, radio silence had reigned supreme. The obvious conclusions were two-fold: either the aliens had taken the ship and were maintaining a low-profile, or the crew had managed to destroy themselves and everything else aboard, and a dead ship would come to dock at Ignis Glace in due course.
This was a tense time for all aboard, save for Aldo, who found it almost as boring as the rest of the interminable voyage. In his opinion, it would all be over in the blink of an eye if the enemy did detect them and fired a missile in their direction. The ships were passing at such a great rate, with Aareschlucht moving thousands of miles per second faster, they would never even see it coming on their passive detection systems. The incoming missile would not even require a warhead. A fist-sized rock tossed on the precise path they took would do the trick through kinetic energy alone.