The Destroyer of Worlds

by Alex Kings

  Hanson limped. Agatha limped. Srak dragged himself along, trailing blood.

  Vyren floated.

  They made their way towards the entrance tunnel, until they could hear the howl of the wind and the constant patter of razor-sharp slivers of rock hitting the armoured door.

  There, Hanson ordered them to settle down. This way they'd be able to tell when the storm stopped and they could leave.

  They sat in silence for a while. Srak's injured arm – where Arka had bitten the shoulder – was clutched to his chest. He'd cleaned most of the blood off his face with a rag Agatha had given him. Otherwise, he looked in bad shape. He left a trail of blood behind him. If a human had left that much, it occurred to Hanson, he'd be at risk of bleeding to death. As it was, Srak was hurt, but not in any danger.

  They sat in silence for some time. Hanson considered the positives: Arka had escaped, but he'd had to leave behind whatever Ancient artefact he'd been trying to uncover. That, at least, might foil IL's immediate plans.

  Eventually the patter against the door ceased, and the wind died down. “Come on,” said Hanson, struggling to his feet. He hit the button to open the doors.

  Bright, blinding sunlight poured in. It took a few moments for Hanson to adjust to the glare, but at last he could make out the landscape: The rocky, volcanic desert. Above, the sky was a brilliant and totally clear light blue.

  The shuttle lay under its outcrop of rock. It has been spared most of the razorstorm, though on its outward-facing side the paint had been stripped off, and the hull was scored and pitted. Hanson put his hand on it to open the door. It was rough to the touch.

  Before he could actually open the door, his comm chimed. Hanson answered it.

  The signal started out distorted and staticky: “Captain? This is the Dauntless. Come in, Captain.”

  “Hanson here.”

  The signal quickly became clearer as the last of the disturbances in the atmosphere receded. It was Miller's voice. “Glad to hear your voice, sir! Commander Lanik wants to speak to you.”

  Then came Lanik's voice. “Dauntless Actual here. What's the situation?”

  “We're all here,” said Hanson. He looked over his team. “More or less. A little medical attention would be appreciated. We had a run-in with Arka. He escaped, but he left an artefact here. Did you see his ship leaving?”

  “Yes,” said Lanik. “We saw his ship leaving. I tried to stop it, but couldn't. Speaking of which, the Varanids are not best pleased.”

  “I'd have done exactly the same in your position,” Hanson said.

  “Thank you, sir. That … that doesn't actually make me feel any better. Regardless, I'm afraid that medical attention may have to wait. From us, at least. The Varanids are coming to pick us up. The Chancellor doesn't want to let you off the planet's surface.”

  Off in the distance, there was faint roar. Hanson looked up to see a trio of bulky, armoured Varanid shuttles heading towards them.

  *

  They returned as passengers in one of the Varanid shuttles. Its interior was elegant, if oversized, with heat lamps (now turned off) built into the ceiling. The Dauntless's own shuttle was carried in grapples underneath.

  The Varanid guards who'd come to pick them up were, for the most part, entirely polite. They helped Srak aboard, put some sort of odd-smelling medical gel into his bite-wounds, and covered them with shimmering plasters (these ones adapted for Varanids). Then they called ahead to the Parliament building for any medical assistance they couldn't provide.

  As the shuttle took off, one of them leaned over Hanson and Agatha and cocked his head. “I don't know human physiology,” he confessed in Isk. “But you're bleeding, aren't you? Are you also injured?”

  When the shuttle accelerated, the minor shift in gravity made the white-hot pain in Hanson's side flare up. “Just a little bit,” he said, with a grimace.

  “I don't know if our techniques will help or harm you,” said the Varanid.

  He activated the comms and spoke into it. A voice came from the other end. The conversation seemed to become angrier and angrier, with growls and snarls on both sides. At last, the Varanid shut off the comms and said, “They have agreed to let a doctor come down from your ship.”

  Hanson nodded, and, with some difficulty, sat down on a bench. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Part of the job,” the Varanid said. He looked at Srak, who was resting under a heat lamp near the back of the shuttle, then turned to Hanson and Agatha. “What happened?”

  “We got into a fight,” Hanson said. “Varanid named Arka.”

  “Don't know him.” The Varanid laughed. “Still, you're lucky you have all your limbs attached, no!”

  He exchanged a few words with another guard. The second guard didn't seem to speak any Isk.

  Agatha translated into English for Hanson's benefit: “Second guy says this is why we got into trouble. Our friend who got the doctor thinks we're cool. He says we're interesting.”

  When he'd finished talking, the Varanid said, “They don't tell us exactly what's going on. But it seems like something big. That Arka who escaped … he's on the same side as the people who attacked Tethya?”

  “Yes,” said Hanson.

  “So they're not all humans.”

  Hanson sighed. “Humans are leading it. It's a human company – IL. But it's gone rogue. It has nothing to do with the Solar Alliance.”

  The Varanid grunted. “Makes sense, I suppose. But they have Varanids who are working with them? Non-exiles?”

  “Just the one that we know of.”

  “Scary thought, though,” said the Varanid.

  *

  They landed in the Parliament's spaceport. One of the Dauntless's shuttle was waiting in the space beside. It held Dr. Sorrel, who immediately came out and looked over Hanson and Agatha.

  As he set Hanson's fractured ribs with a dermal smart-matter brace, he frowned. “How many fistfights with Varanids have you barely survived, Captain?” he grumbled.

  “All of them,” said Hanson. He winced as the pain flared up again.

  “Sit still,” said Sorrel. Then he added, “There. That should be enough.” He moved on to Agatha.

  Outside, on the other side of his shuttle, the Varanid they'd talked to was speaking into his comms. Someone on the other end was complaining. Srak cocked his head and laughed. “They say we're taking too long.”

  “Well, they can bloody well wait,” said Sorrel. He offered a couple of capsules to Agatha and Hanson. “That's to help the bone knit. That's pain relief. As much as I dare give you – I assume you'll need a clear head for whatever they want next.”

  Hanson swallowed the capsules. “I assume so,” he said. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  The Varanid came ambling round the shuttle. “Right, they refuse to be kept waiting any longer. They want you inside now.” He smiled faintly. “So, by all means, take your time.”

  Chapter 21: Meeting

  Hanson, Agatha, Srak, and Vyren were led into the parliament building by the guards.

  Their footsteps clacked against the polished stood floor and echoed in the giant corridors. They were walking over a scene rendered in mosaic, Hanson noticed: A sunrise behind a volcano. It seemed appropriate. His ribs still hurt, but not too badly. And Sorrel had been right: The painkiller wasn't stopping him from thinking clearly.

  He fell into step alongside Vyren. “Considering this is a diplomatic incident, I don't suppose you could help us get out of this?”

  “Tethyan influence is considerable,” said Vyren. “But it is not infinite. And I am just one individual. I'm sorry to say, I don't know how much I can help.”

  They came to a low, wide arch with a solid wooden door. One of the guards knocked. A Varanid on the other side opened the door, and two muttered to each in low growls. The guard stepped back and summoned Hanson with his hand. “Just you,” he said.

  Hanson entered the room. The door thumped shut behind him.

  The room was roughly octa
gonal. Four of the walls had triangular stained-glass windows. The light coming in made everything seems orange and yellow, dusty and desertish. The air was warm and dry.

  Two Varanids guarded the door. Another, in the garb of an official, stood in the background with a tablet. A semicircular table occupied half the room. A further seven Varanids lay around it. Their bodies, lying flat on the ground, seemed to indicate laziness. But their sharp eyes were anything but. Chancellor Rok was there in the centre. And Councillor Kuta was two spaces to his left. Hanson didn't recognise the others.

  Rok recited some official spiel in a tired-sounding voice: “This meeting is to determine what to do with the human ship regarding its apparent interference with Varanid affairs. In this instance, the discussion will be in Isk for benefit of the human. The other human, the exile, and the Tethyan are forbidden from participating upon request of Councillor Kuta. I have with me the upper council. The rest of parliament is watching … ” He gestured idly at a camera set into the ceiling. “ … and may vote at the end of the session, if they so wish. We hereby begin.”

  So – Kuta had forbidden his team from entering. Was she that upset?

  As soon as his official recitation was over, Rok seemed to wake up. “Hanson, you sneaky bastard,” he growled.

  Hanson held Rok's gaze. The Varanid's eyes were a deep blood red. “Excuse me?” he said.

  “On your mission,” explained Rok. “You did nothing wrong. Your team did nothing wrong. Not even the exile. But up in orbit, your ship fired its weapons. Of course, you are innocent – and we can't take your second-in-command into custody, can we? Well, I won't let you get away with it. I hold you responsible. At least until your crew comes down here.”

  “I take full responsibility for my XO's actions,” said Hanson. “And what's more, I support him fully.”

  This seemed to take the wind out of Rok's sails somewhat. He stared at Hanson. “Very well,” he said at last. “Then we agree. You are responsible for the unprovoked attack on a Varanid ship, for firing weapons over Ghroga when you were explicitly told to keep to your investigation.”

  “Yes,” said Hanson. “Our suspect, Arka, was aboard that ship, trying to escape.”

  “You – or your XO – could have reported the matter to us. We would have impounded the ship. Instead, you struck out on your own.”

  Kuta spoke up for the first time. “Don't be foolish, Rok. I saw the report. That ship took a little over two minutes between leaving the surface and jumping. They were pressed for time.”

  Rok snarled at his.

  “Councillor Kuta has a point,” Hanson said. “Time was running out and the stakes were high. If we had tried to do things properly, we would certainly have lost him.”

  “You lost him anyway,” growled Rok.

  “But not for lack of trying.”

  Rok shook his head. “Two minutes. That was enough time for one of your people to send a message to us to ask for our assistance. And you didn't even try!” He shook his head. “Our system of response is one of the fastest in the galaxy! Look how quickly they responded to your ship's attack! Our weapons platforms fired before this Arka had managed to jump away.”

  “That is a different matter,” interjected Kuta. “They were already in a state of readiness to fire on the Dauntless. It would have taken them longer to figure out whether they should fire on one of our own ships leaving the surface.”

  This set the other council members muttering among themselves:

  “That's lizardshit!”

  “She has a point.”

  “Our systems are extremely capable!”

  Rok slammed his fist against the table with an immense boom. “Enough!” Hanson half expected the table to break, but it didn't. Presumably it was designed to survive being hit by a Varanid.

  “The point is simple,” said Rok. “You were asked to respect our boundaries, and you did not. Is there anything else worth saying?”

  “I believe so,” Kuta said quietly.

  Rok glared at her.

  “I want to hear what she has to say,” said one of the other Varanids.

  “Go on then,” grunted Rok.

  “Not all of us know humans well enough to tell. Are you injured?” Kuta asked Hanson.

  “A little, yes …”

  “Give us a visual of those waiting outside,” Kuta ordered one of the guards.

  A moment later, the display showed Srak, Agatha, and Vyren waiting outside.

  “You on the council should need no help to see that Srak is injured too,” said Kuta. She gestured at the image and it vanished. “Captain, how did your team get into such a state?”

  “We had a fight with Arka, trying to stop him leaving.”

  Kuta got to her feet, and let her gaze go from Rok, to Hanson, to the camera. “Chancellor Rok says the humans are not respecting our boundaries. This is false. I believe they are trying to protect Ghroga. From other humans, yes. But also from itself!”

  Some of the other Varanids growled, clearly displeased. The one who had supported Kuta watched intently.

  “It may be hard to hear,” said Kuta. “But consider the situation we have now. Arka, a supposed legitimate trader, is working with those human who wanted to conquer the galaxy. While an exile, Srak, and these humans, fought bitterly to stop him! Were it not for them, Arka would have stolen an Ancient artefact from Ghroga, and given it to the humans of IL. And we would not have even noticed!”

  “We need to stand by their side, not punish them for trying to help.”

  She sat down. The Varanid who had supported her nodded slowly. Others muttered.

  “Thank you for that … inspiring … speech, Councillor. Now, shall we get back to the real world?” snarled Rok. “We have two options before us. Either we put these humans, and Srak, on trial for attacking a Varanid ship, or we let them go free. Either way, the Tethyan will be allowed to go free. Begin the vote.”

  He gestured at a console built into the table. The other councillors did the same. There was silence for some time while the other councillors, wherever they were, voted.

  One of the Varanids stepped forward and spoke in an official voice. “Voting closes in three … two .. one. Voting is now closed. The computer is collecting and weighting the votes. And the result is, by a majority of six votes …” He looked at Rok, then at Kuta. “They can go free.”

  Hanson let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

  Rok glared at Kuta. “Very well,” he said. “They go free. There is one further matter before we finish. The artefact buried under the Rughk volcano range. Do we keep it, or do we hand it over to the humans?”

  The Varanids muttered among themselves.

  “That artefact could be of great use,” said Hanson.

  “Yes,” said Rok. “It could. Are there any contributions?”

  None of the council put anything forward, so Rok put it to the vote.

  Once again, a Varanid from the background stepped forward. “ Voting closes in three … two .. one. Voting is now closed. The computer is collecting and weighting the votes. And the result is, by a majority of 86, The Varanid Republic will keep the artefact for further study.”

  Rok smiled viciously at Hanson.

  Chapter 22: One Day

  As Hanson left the meeting room, Srak perked up. “Well?” he said. “They wouldn't tell us what was going on. What happened?”

  “We've lost the artefact … but we're free,” said Hanson.

  Rok, coming out of the room, caught this remark, and glared at them. With a growl rumbling in the back of his throat, he turned and walked off down the corridor.

  Srak laughed. “Well, I'll count that as a plus!”

  As Kuta trailed the other Varanids out of the meeting room, Hanson caught her eye. “Thank you,” he said. “Without you, I don't think we'd have escaped.”

  Kuta stopped, and walked over to join them in the corridor. She waved away the guard who still waited, saying, “They're free now! I'll look
after them, don't worry.”

  The guards retreated.

  Kuta smiled at Hanson, then she turned to Srak. “Exile or not,” she said, “I believe I misjudged you.”

  She opened her arms, and raised her head, baring her neck. Srak did the same, and the two of them brought their heads together with a great thump.

  As they stepped back, Srak saw Hanson was a little taken aback. “Humans shake hands,” he explained. “Varanids do this.” He turned back to Kuta with a friendly sort of growl. “I suppose I misjudged you, too.”

  “Why did you only want me in the chamber?” Hanson asked.

  “Having a Tethyan back you up would have made you seem arrogant,” explained Kuta. “But mostly … because of this one.” She pointed at Agatha. “She has a mouth on her.”

  “Tell me about it,” murmured Srak. Agatha gave him an affectionate punch.

  Kuta continued, “Some of the councillors would not have liked seeing a human speak back to them. Especially if she had a point.” She cocked her head. “And you did have a point, Agatha, about my view of exiles. I apologise.”

  “Do I get to headbutt you too?” asked Agatha.

  “Uh,” began Kuta. She turned to Srak, who shrugged.

  So Kuta and Agatha squared up, opened their arms, and brought their heads together. Kuta put hardly any strength to it. Agatha seemed to put all of hers in.

  Agatha stumbled back a few paces, putting her hand to the crown of her head. “Ow!” She looked up, grinning. “I have to do that more often!”

  At last, Kuta turned to Hanson.

  “I think I'll pass on the headbutting,” he said.

  “Where are you headed now, then?” Kuta asked.

  Hanson sighed. “I'm not sure. With Arka gone, we don't have any more leads.” He paused for a moment, realising there was still one lead – Emily Dawes – but quickly dismissed it. “I suppose we'll go back to Tethya to make a report, and see what's going on.”

  “Well, if I learn anything about Arka's whereabouts, I'll tell you,” said Kuta, leading them down the corridor back to the shuttle.