by Mark Wandrey
He blinked again, but the lights around him dimmed, and he had a single moment to tell himself he should pull out his slate and report the electrical issue before his eyes sealed closed entirely, and he fell…
A tide of rancid meat ebbed and flowed against a slice of deep black beach. The strips of purple-red sinew dragged furrows in the smooth sand as each wave pulled back to the sea of rotten wrongness.
A moon rode high in an otherwise blank sky, its light a sickly yellow.
Shadow tried to turn away, but it was only the sea in all directions. He knew if he took a step, the sand would collapse, and he’d plummet into the unending blood and rot and gore.
Panic fluttered in his throat, but when he tried to swallow it, he realized he couldn’t smell anything.
All that discolored decay, he should have been drowning in the stench…but there was nothing. The air was as empty as the sky around the moon.
No stars, no smells…
He crouched to touch the sand, and everything crumbled. First the beach collapsed, sand pouring away, then the unspeakable sea followed, and then the moon, breaking into dust like it had been dead for centuries and no one had noticed.
Nothingness.
Nothingness and him. He was a part of the nothing. He was the nothing. He was nothing.
He was…he was Shadow. He heard Isgono’s voice, softly, though it spoke no words he recognized. A vision.
What was he trying to tell himself?
He needed something.
The stars. A bridge. He knew it with all the certainty that existed in the universe. If he made a bridge, he could build the stars.
But he was nothingness, he was gone, and now the air changed, smell and taste surrounding him and unified in its message: decay, rot, ruin, dust.
Death had found him.
* * *
He shuddered and opened his eyes. The taste of death crowded the back of his throat even as the vision receded, but Shadow rubbed his face, feeling his fur and muscle and skull, real under his hands. He had to figure out where he was and…
But he wasn’t lost in the corridors of the base at all. He was in his own bunk. He remembered coming back to take a nap after leaving Rex and Veska behind.
Equally clearly he remembered heading for the rec room and finding himself lost.
Only one could be true, but even with the bunk firm and present beneath him, he couldn’t be sure which.
* * * * *
Chapter 14
Neutral Ground—E’cop’k System
Their neutral location was a glorified tent in equal air-strike distance, and Drake didn’t like it one bit. They hadn’t been allowed to wear their CASPers, and their light armor was nowhere near the quality of what the Zuul had.
Nor did it allow him to hide his expression upon smelling the Pushtal again. He affected his best bored-ignoring-everything-around-him expression—long perfected on beaches with too many Humans on them back home—and debated whether the Vergola smelled more like desert-dried roadkill or seaweed left exposed a dozen low tides ago.
He really wished they had pinplants so he could get Rex’s input, but then again, Rex was probably too busy smelling the Veska-scent all over him to even notice the Pushtal’s reek.
Shadow shot a sidelong look at him, and Drake only flicked an ear in return. Veska had said Krif’Hosh could dream, not read thoughts.
And yet I scent it on the wind, Isgono had said. The words echoed in Drake’s thoughts more often than not. He missed the rhythm of the ocean, or even the obstacle halls on the Paku. Ride enough waves or throw yourself through enough corridors, and your mind cleared. No echoing words from old teachers half-telling you things about what might have been your history, no overbearing alien being smells, no having to hold still without your CASPer and pretend you didn’t want to shoot someone in the face.
Shadow was still staring at him, and Drake realized his expression was slipping as his lip curled back. He flattened his ears and straightened them in brief acknowledgement, controlling his face again.
The temporary structure was about the size of their mess back home, thick enough to keep them breathing, but collapsible enough that the cold seeped in. The floor was uneven, though Drake had come out with a few of the Aku to find the most level planting ground for it when the Zuul had agreed to set up a conversation. The low whine of the machinery keeping them breathing was balanced by the thrum of the equipment keeping them from freezing, and, all in all, Drake thought this might have been done better over comms. Or while he and his siblings were in their CASPers.
The last of the attendees moved through the temporary airlocks on either side of the large room, and Drake cocked his head. Three Lumar on their side—the same three who had been in the room for the showdown with Ifka, including the enigmatic, intelligent female—and another Zuul on the other. This last one was female, nearly as tall as A’kef, whom she moved to stand next to, and impressively scarred. The captain Veska thought so highly of, then. Drake looked closer, but the older Zuul didn’t open her mouth, so he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her metal-coated teeth. Apparently she’d done that after the injury that had given her the branching scar across her face, but he wondered if it would be worth doing even if he had all his teeth. Be nice to work biting back into his repertoire, even against aliens thicker-skinned than Humans.
He could almost feel Shadow radiating disappointment at him and reminded himself again that his youngest brother couldn’t read his mind.
The captain lifted her muzzle slightly, scenting, and Drake unconsciously echoed her. How she could smell anything over the two Pushtal, he couldn’t imagine.
“Very well.” Ifka twitched the entirety of her body and pulled up a Tri-V display from the slate in her hand. “Our offer is this—we immediately cease hostilities in this sector. The Engineering Guild will lift the interdiction holding everyone once we are agreed. The Engineering Guild retains majority ownership of the Astatine-222, with the following updates: the Vergola become the distributors of Astatine-222, with a portion of the stake to now be owned by the Cartography Guild. That should more than cover all gate travel for the Engineering Guild in perpetuity.”
“What percentages are you offering for such generous recompense?” the Vergola asked, with no visible reaction Drake could decipher. The being was one of the strangest he’d ever seen, from its abnormally long limbs of pale skin, to its oblong head. It wore robes as if they were part of its body, and seemed unaffected by the chill, despite not wearing a protective suit.
“You can see it all in this chart. We would need official Engineering and Cartography signatures here. As you can imagine, this is quite the departure for my Guild, and we would not enjoy having to shut down other gates, should we be wrongly charged for passage because you did not have appropriate clearance.”
Drake didn’t snort, though he couldn’t keep his ears entirely still. Ifka spoke as though she had any control over the code the Aku had developed that had shut down the E’cop’k system’s gate. She was lucky they had a vested interest in maintaining her strong bargaining position. It mattered more to get out of this entropy-ridden corner of the galaxy than to put her in her place.
“To assign you privileged and free gate passage in perpetuity, it should be at least five percent.”
“Two percent.”
The Vergola said nothing, and the silence stretched. Finally, the female Lumar crossed her arms, making only the barest of sounds, and Ifka snapped, “Three percent, but if you don’t like that offer, we can go back to blowing each other up, and no one gets credits.”
Drake’s nose twitched, and his eyes roamed the room, not sure what he was looking or smelling for. His senses had snagged on something, but he couldn’t bring it to conscious thought. The Lumar looked bored, his father and Anderle had long perfected their flat expressions, and his siblings seemed equally calm. Veska had eyes only for Rex and the Zuul captain across the room.
A’kef and the captain were the Z
uul mirror images of his father and Anderle. The Zuparti and Vergola were just staring at each other and rambling about decimal points of profit that would ultimately equal more money than Earth saw in a decade, and the two Pushtal stood very still to the side.
No one reached for a weapon, no one tensed to leap across the room and rip out throats. But something had burrowed into his gut and tugged, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
* * *
“Based on the profits your guild can expect, this seems to be a satisfactory end to our engagement in the E’cop’k system,” Nillab said as the Vergola rode back to their base in a flyer.
“It is not as much as we could have had, had your forces won outright, but it is no loss,” Fak’l agreed grudgingly.
“Considering the contract you have with us is null-and-void,” Nillab replied, “I see your decision as a simple one. I will only allow this illusion of proper employment to last as long as it is clear a resolution is forthcoming. That and you agree to pay us the contract rate in full. As for fighting, we’re done.”
Fak’l glanced at the Zuul again, then returned to watching the frozen terrain race by under the flyer. Fak’l considered the Zuul mercenary leader critically. He had to admit, he’d underestimated her. The complaints against the forced contract were completely valid, and he’d known about them from the beginning. Who knew the Zuul could read in such detail? Their species wasn’t exactly known for their scholarly achievements.
He turned enough to look at Meesh and Skeesh riding in silence. Since the announced ceasefire, the Pushtal had been uncharacteristically quiet. Fak’l had been certain the felines would go berserk, so much so that he’d had a squad of assistants armed and ready. Many other races underestimated Vergola because they seemed frail. That would be a mistake. Had the Pushtal attacked him, it would have ended with Meesh and his filthy pirate scum followers as frozen corpses dumped on this miserable world.
The Pushtal didn’t look back at him; neither did it snarl and threaten. He’d already told the Pushtal its clan would share in the bounty of an agreement. Yes, it would be less, but considering the miserable disgraced felines had started with nothing, this would be a massive improvement for them.
They arrived back at the base a minute later, the flyer sliding into the bay amid a swirl of ice and nitrogen snow. Fak’l had spent the final part of the drive calculating the Cartography Guild’s profits from this venture and wondering if it would give him enough capital to make a move toward becoming guildmaster. Sure, his odds were reduced somewhat. However, with the Pushtal coming under better control, he could bring them to the table, as well. Some pet Pushtal to provide muscle with plausible deniability would help. If they proved an eventual liability, well, that would of course necessitate their disposal.
“Gather your troops,” Fak’l told Nillab. “We’ll announce the cessation of hostilities.”
“Then you have decided?” Nillab asked.
“Yes, it is an equitable deal. I have already ordered my executive assistant to transmit the agreement to the Engineering Guild.” The Pushtal made the barest of noises. Fak’l turned and glanced at him. “You disagree?”
“No,” Meesh said. “You must do what you must do. It will be all for the best in the end.”
“Very wise,” Fak’l said. He saw the facial muscles twitch on Skeesh, yet the commanding Pushtal’s assistant remained silent.
Nillab merely stared at the Pushtal, who glared back before he spoke to Fak’l once more, “Since the fighting is done, and the stargate reactivated, we will prepare to depart.”
“You aren’t going to wait for your payment?”
“I trust you’ll follow through,” Meesh said. “You wouldn’t dare double cross us.”
“I would never think of it,” Fak’l replied. The two stared at each other for a second, then Meesh left, with his assistant close behind.
“Aren’t you concerned they’ll cause trouble?” Nillab asked after the Pushtal were gone.
“Oh, they will certainly be a problem later,” he agreed. “But credits will mollify the hurt of not being part of a glorious conquest, for now. I’m more concerned about you.”
Nillab flicked an ear dismissively. “The credits help, but more than that is knowing the Cartography Guild owes Insho’Ze a debt for not bringing up this issue with the Mercenary Guild. I’ve filed my reports to my ship and forwarded it to the Paku, but certain pieces go no further without need.”
“You are as shrewd as the Pushtal are gullible.”
Nillab gave a little bow of her head as she left. Fak’l turned to his assistant, who’d entered as soon as the flyer landed.
“Your orders?”
“Have my security detail watch the Zuul closely,” he commanded.
“And the Pushtal?”
“Assign someone to be sure they are preparing to leave, but I think we’ve pulled their claws.” He nodded to himself as the assistant left. “It is an acceptable outcome.”
Two hours later, Fak’l entered the large vehicle bay to find the Zuul mercenaries standing in formation. Captain Nillab put a hand to her chest in their race’s salute as he entered. He nodded in reply.
Though Fak’l had sent an inquiry to the one sent to verify the Pushtal were preparing to leave before coming here, there had been no reply. Doubtless his assistant didn’t want to make it too obvious that the Pushtal were being monitored.
Fak’l glided over to Nillab and held out a data chip. “Enclosed are the endorsed details of our separation, including credit authorization to cover your costs, as agreed.”
Nillab nodded and handed it to her XO. “Very well. We’re ready to go up to our ships. How long before the Engineers unlock the stargate?”
“Shouldn’t be more than a few hours,” Fak’l said. “They’ve acknowledged the terms. You can wait down here if you wish.”
“I don’t,” Nillab replied tersely. “Our business is complete.”
“As you wish.”
The Zuul had half turned away when the bay door opened, and Meesh strode in. He was wearing his combat armor, which the feline always seemed to be wearing, but this time it had various decorations.
“It would seem the Pushtal wishes to participate in our ritual,” Fak’l said, a hint of a smile on his features.
“They were mercenaries once,” Nillab said. “It might be best to indulge them.”
“It can only cost time,” Fak’l said, resigned. As the feline approached, he noted Meesh was carrying a large equipment bag over his shoulder. Probably his gear, packed and ready to go. But if he was in such a hurry to leave, why bother coming to the bay? He hadn’t transmitted an intent to participate in the formal ending of a contract he wasn’t legally party to.
“What can I do for you?” Fak’l asked as Meesh came to a stop.
“I’ve reconsidered the deal,” Meesh said with a straight face.
“Oh?” Fak’l asked. “What makes you think I was interested in negotiating with the hired help?”
“Who said anything about negotiating?” Meesh reached into the bag, pulled out Fak’l’s assistant’s severed head, and dropped it at the Vergola’s feet.
Fak’l followed the slow motion descent of the head, dripping with pinkish blood, in stunned horror. He looked up to demand what the Pushtal meant by this, only to see the streaking blur of Meesh’s arm come across. For a second, Fak’l thought the Pushtal had missed.
“Our business is at an end,” Meesh said, and Fak’l’s head fell off in the same slow drop as his assistant’s head.
* * *
Nillab began to bark an order. Before she could finish, Meesh’s other hand came up with a laser pistol and shot her in the chest. The Zuul jerked and fell with satisfying finality. “Entropy take you, filthy dog,” Meesh said and spat on the still falling body.
The assembled Zuul roared in rage and betrayal, many beginning to rush toward their fallen leader, others working to unlimber shoulder-slung weapons.
Meesh lau
ghed, then roared, “Now!”
From the still-open bay door, dozens of Pushtal flooded in, weapons blazing, while others leaped in the low gravity to savage surprised Zuul. Pandemonium descended as Zuul were cut down like kits let loose in a koopo breeding den. It was a slaughter. Meesh tossed the bloody bag aside, holstered the weapon, and screeched a war cry as he leaped at the nearest Zuul, who’d just managed to kill a Pushtal gunner. He sank his teeth into the Zuul’s neck and ripped, sending bright red blood fountaining.
Now this is more like it, he thought as the hot blood flooded his mouth. The pistol was so anticlimactic compared to the satisfying feeling of beheading the Vergola scum. He hadn’t had the pleasure of killing all the others, either. He’d had to use a team of his best troopers to kill the other Vergola quickly and quietly. Shooting Nillab had been an act of expediency. He hadn’t wanted to risk giving the old Zuul warrior a chance to prove her legendary prowess in battle.
Pity, Meesh thought as he released the dead Zuul and looked for another victim. He was curious how those metallic teeth would serve in a real battle.
There were few targets left—the surprise attack had done its job—and his prized fighters were cleaning up the last of the Zuul.
“Skeesh, ensure the Humans are dead!” He stomped on the nearest body, wishing his lower claws were free rather than booted to make it more satisfying.
Skeesh’s answer started as an assent and ended as a ragged death cry.
Meesh whirled toward his offspring, only to see Skeesh drop, his throat a ragged ruin. How?
Behind his dying third, Nillab straightened. Her white fur was streaked with Zuul blood, and her face…her face was drenched in Pushtal blood. It dripped from her jaws, and Nillab spat a long strip of sinewy flesh at him.
Before he could so much as blink, she launched herself at him. Her weight staggered him backward, and a gleaming flash of metal just missed his muzzle as he shoved back. He squirmed and struggled to lift his arms, to get his curving claws between them, but she rolled them and snapped again.