Mech (imperium)

by V. B. Larson

  “No, we’re gonna do more than that,” said Daddy, his mood lifting. He munched another forkful of air-swimmer, then grinned. Dark flecks showed on his teeth. “First, we’re gonna have a little fun with our shotguns, some cameras and her pretty little behind. We need plenty of pictures to hand around to people who might be getting funny ideas.”

  After dinner the two men moved into the bar and once the maitre’d told the bartender who they were, they were served two foaming mugs of beer. A news update on KXUT interrupted the rayball highlights.

  “Hey, that’s the bitch now,” exclaimed Daddy, blowing beer all over the bar.

  Sarah and Bili were both shown in a news snippet concerning the mysterious disappearance of an entire farming family. The announcer explained that they had been connected with the failed smuggling attempt on Wednesday and were being held at the Hofstetten detention center for questioning. The cameras did a slow pan of the house, the yard and the bloody mess in the barn. Militia officer Choy came on for about three seconds, saying that a rogue landshark was probably responsible, that perhaps the family had tried to harbor landshark hatchlings and had paid the ultimate price.

  Mudface whistled and squinted at the holo-plate. “What the hell did she get herself into? They said something about another smuggler. Could we have some competition horning in on us here?”

  “We’ll find out,” said Daddy, blowing the top off another mug of beer. “We’ll find out everything.”

  A long low limo pulled off the cross-colony highway and slid into Hofstetten’s main street. Governor Hans Zimmerman himself rode in the back, fuming. The limo floated up to the gates of the militia detention center and was quickly admitted.

  Irritably, Zimmerman brushed past the guard at the door, shoving his ID card at the duty Sergeant. Surprised, the Sergeant ran the card through the checker and nodded him through to the Captain’s office. The Captain, having only just gotten word of Zimmerman’s visit, was still busy shoving papers, holo-disks and bottles into his desk.

  “What a pleasant surprise this visit is, Governor,” he said, rubbing his hands together and snapping the top buttons of his uniform.

  “Cut the crap,” Zimmerman commanded, making a sweeping gesture. “I’m here to take custody of that woman and her kid.”

  “The ones from Dev’s farm?” asked the Captain, surprised.

  “Yes, yes, be quick about it, man.”

  “I must say, Governor, this comes as a shock.”

  “Yes,” sighed the Governor. “It’s a bit of a surprise for me, too.”

  “But our magistrate hasn’t even set bail yet, sir. They haven’t even been charged yet, although it looks like they’ll at least get smuggling and resisting arrest. We haven’t figured out what they had to do with the murders of the family of farmers.”

  “Murders? I thought the family had simply disappeared.”

  “Yes, well, the evidence shows that the family members were indeed killed, along with much of their jax herd.

  “I’m too busy for such nonsense just now, Captain.”

  “But we haven’t even set bail yet, sir,” repeated the Captain with emphasis.

  Zimmerman glared at the man for several seconds. “So you want money, is that it?” He stifled the man’s protests with upraised hands, pulling out a checkbook. He keyed in his code and the device instantly spit out a 5000 credit voucher. “This will have to take care of it.”

  The Captain eyed the amount critically.

  “Well? Are you going to get them or do I have to order my deputies into your cellblock?” demanded Zimmerman.

  “I will get them, Governor,” said the Captain stiffly. “I must point out, however, that the amount is certainly less than what the magistrate would set for charges of such gravity. I assume, of course, that your office would be good for the difference in case anything, ah-unexpected should happen.”

  “Of course,” said Zimmerman. He made a dismissive gesture. “I must say that I find your demeanor less than cordial, Captain.”

  Tucking the credit voucher into his breast pocket, the Captain manufactured a smile. “If you would be so good as to wait in the outer office, I will have the prisoners delivered to you. The duty Sergeant will handle the required processing of codes. Oh, and by the way, do you wish them to be under restraints?”

  “Yes, certainly. Magnetic cuffs should be sufficient.”

  Sarah and Bili were hustled up the stairs and through the security gate. There they were greatly surprised to meet Governor Zimmerman, whose face they recognized from the holo-plate news snippets. He had with him three burly men wearing autoshades set to extra dark.

  Governor Zimmerman flagged a second limo, which pulled up behind the first. “If you two will excuse me,” he said, “I’m late for a dinner engagement.” He gave Bili an absent pat on the head and graced Sarah with a smile and a nod before climbing into his limo.

  The deputies still gripped Sarah’s elbow. She twisted her hands, but the magnetic cuffs held as if welded. “Where are you taking us?” she demanded. Loose strands of hair hung down into her face, matted with sweat.

  “Right this way, madam,” said one of the deputies, his eyes invisible behind midnight-black shades.

  They were escorted to the second limousine and shoved into the back. Seated comfortably in the plush interior was the unmistakable fat form of Daddy. Mudface was driving, wearing a peaked driver’s cap. His idiot grin spread wider at Sarah’s expression of despair. He touched his cap to greet them.

  The doors slammed and the two limos floated away in opposite directions.

  The culus that had followed Sarah and Bili from Dev’s farm detached itself from an exhaust chimney and slid through the air in silent pursuit.

  Twelve

  Outside the spaceport compound, Ari Steinbach was beside himself with frustration. He had assembled an army consisting of numerous squad cars, two heavy lifters, a crowd of militiamen with pistols and Wu hand-cannons, plus 1st tactical squad. His tactical team had taken the longest to gather, and a third of them were still unaccounted for. Most likely they were attending the militia officer’s banquet being held up at Fort Zimmerman tonight. They were probably not ignoring their beeping phones completely, but just taking their time in answering the summons. It was enough to make Steinbach grit his teeth in frustration. How had discipline become so lax? Why should they be enjoying good food and dancing while he sat out in the bitter cold, besieging a madman and gnawing on dried jax meat?

  Higher in priority than any of these things, of course, was the disposition of his satchel sitting in the lockers in the baggage claim section. It was too exposed there, he knew. If this whole thing got out of hand and heavy weapons were used, the satchel could easily be destroyed or lost. It was unnerving.

  He wanted to strike now, before the enemy got any stronger or more organized. With his tactical squad in full body armor and toting waist-mounted Wu automatic rifles, plus the militia back-up, he felt confident that they could wipe out the giants and the undisciplined security people. The problem was with Mai Lee’s instructions to wait for her support. To disobey her now, just before the arrival of her troops, could easily be a suicidal act.

  “Why don’t you move?” asked Major Drick Lee, smacking his small fist into his palm. “Send them in, before they call in Nexus-loyal Stormbringers from Fort Zimmerman.”

  “The pilots are preoccupied with the banquet tonight. Besides, our own loyal pilots outnumber the Nexus Tories,” Ari snapped back, not looking up from his field glasses. He studied the glass doors of the terminal building with interest. There was definitely a lot of activity in there. Benches, potted plants and luggage were being thrown up as barricades. He tried to get a glimpse of the lockers, but the angle wasn’t right.

  “Every minute they get more prepared.” Major Lee crossed his arms and huffed.

  “Maybe you want to lead the charge, eh?” shouted Ari. “I don’t want to hear any more whining! We wait!”

  Rolling his e
yes, Major Lee leaned up against the hull of a lifter and said nothing.

  Ari seethed. Where was that ancient witch and her army of simians?

  Sitting like a spider at the center of a great web of glittering datastreams, Mai Lee was one of the first humans on the planet to see a culus. It overflew her estate during her afternoon meditation, skirting the village and slipping over the moat and the flame-pits to peruse the outer battlements. Although her palace and the surrounding fortifications had the appearance of being a primitive place, built along the lines of ancient earth fortresses, its defenses were far from outdated. The culus was detected even as it circled the village. While it glided up to the outer walls a camera tracked its every movement.

  “I beg your Excellency’s pardon,” whispered a speaker hidden in the center of a new and exquisite flower arrangement crafted that very morning by the skalds of the palace.

  “I am meditating,” said Mai Lee, floating in free fall over a gravity repeller. The mere fact that she didn’t screech at the disruptive voice emanating from the clustered orchids indicated her good mood. Ever since the activities of the castle’s legendary dragon the night before, she had felt a rare inner calm. A smile played over her lips at the memory of last night’s excesses. “I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

  “May I explain the request, Excellency?” the orchids begged.

  Mai Lee cracked one eye and sighed. “Speak.”

  “The security drones have sighted a very odd intruder. It is currently examining the estate.”

  Mai Lee frowned slightly. “Send out a detachment of the guard to capture the spy. I will witness the interrogation and execution at my leisure. Must I give every instruction personally?”

  “Certainly not, Empress, but the situation is difficult. The intruder is not a man, but some form of living being that can fly.”

  Mai Lee snapped erect, the gravity repeller easing her down to the floor automatically. “Put it through on the holo-plate.”

  The chamber contained a large holo-plate, which dominated much of the floor space. Instantly, the decorative image of a tinkling waterfall and the three persimmon-colored hummingbirds that hovered over it vanished, replaced by a very different kind of flyer. The creature was shaped like a skate from the distant sea: it resembled an air-swimmer, but more flattened out and streamlined. It was a milky mottled brown in color with flapping wings and a hook-knife tail. A single orb on a flexible stalk roved over the landscape. While she watched it expertly wove its way through a copse of delicate gauzepines, soared over the flame-pits unconcernedly and then rose up to crest the outer walls.

  “What are its dimensions?” Mai Lee demanded. Her heart accelerated in her chest, already she was thinking of a prelude to assassination. Could this be some kind of new scout from her Zimmerman enemies?

  “The wingspan is something less than six feet. From the frontal eyestalk to the tip of its tail is just over four feet.”

  She frowned; observing the creature as it slid around the courtyard, a dim shadow against the walls. “Wasn’t it brown a moment before? It looks like gray stone now.”

  “Yes, it seems to automatically camouflage itself in flight, blending in with its surroundings. As a scout, it excels at its task. We only picked it up by accident.”

  She felt sure these things had been watching her for months. Mai Lee felt her tension return, all the work of her lengthy meditation had been undone. Irritably, she ordered the beast stunned and brought to her council chambers beneath the castle. It appeared that she would have to begin sleeping in the bunkers beneath the castle again. As she watched the creature investigated the fountain, the very fountain from under which she had driven her battlesuit the night before. There was an intelligence evident in the thing’s manner, a sense of direction and purpose. She was sure that it was alien to Garm and to her experience. Utterly alien.

  “Order the compliment of guards to return,” she said coming to a sudden decision. She had many enemies and consciously maintained a heavy tendency toward paranoia that had played a great role in keeping her alive for the past two centuries.

  “They have almost reached the spaceport, your Excellency. General Steinbach has repeatedly signaled his impatience concerning their arrival.”

  “The safety of the estate and my person overrides the importance of their current mission. Instruct him to proceed alone.”

  The orchids acknowledged the commands and fell silent.

  In the high atmosphere over the polar range, two heavy lifters each bearing a large compliment of ape-like shock troops reversed course and headed back to Slipape County.

  In the courtyard of Mai Lee’s palace, three stunners fired, catching the culus and dropping it into the fountain. It plunged into the cold water and sank to the bottom. Moments later the underbelly of the culus exploded from the inside outward. In a flurry of motion a shrade appeared, birthed into the cold water from her partner’s digestive system. Swimming away from the billowing clouds of fluids that stained the clear water, the shrade was free. She popped her head above the water’s surface for just a split second to look around, and then quickly dove to the bottom of the pool. Finding a drain entrance, she wriggled inside and vanished.

  Sometime later the shrade reappeared, popping out of a drainage pipe in the lower levels deep beneath the castle. Slapping unnoticed in the forgotten corners of the lower labyrinths, the shrade investigated the varied garbage of the vertebrates’ technological society. She spent only a few minutes indulging her genetic compulsions, rummaging about in heaps of burnt out memory modules, acid-leaking energy cells and ruptured data-liquid cabling. Soon, she managed to slip beneath a few doorways and entered the more frequented areas of the dungeons.

  When she found the war machine, she knew she had made an important discovery. Standing two-thirds the height of a jugger, the gleaming hi-tech weapon stood out from the primitive feel of the dungeon itself. That the machine was no discard was clearly evidenced. Not a millimeter of its surface contained tarnish and the walls were festooned with tools and diagnostics equipment. The machine itself was open hatched and undergoing maintenance service by a squad of vertebrates, clearly technicians.

  The shrade knew exultation. Here, at long last, was a clear example of the enemy’s greatest powers of war. To study the machine was worth the deaths of ten shrades.

  The shrade reported her findings with a short blip of data to the Parent. Though she fairly quivered with curiosity, she contained her violent need to know. Fantasies of attacking the three service vertebrates and expunging them ran through her tactical brain, but she managed to restrain herself. Built into every successful scout was a good dose of caution and patience. Hiding herself among a stack of fuel cells, she bided her time.

  Hours passed before the vertebrates finally left the fantastic machine unattended. Quickly humping forward, the shrade mounted one of the metal monster’s great legs. Nosing about inside, she discovered a myriad of wonders, all of which she catalogued and reported in coded transmissions.

  A sound of approaching vertebrates warned her. She popped an optical organ just out of the hatch, eyeing their noisy approach. There were many of the vertebrates approaching, some of them armed and armored. It was too late, the shrade had over indulged herself-there was no way to slip out. She coiled herself inside the war machine, preparing to kill as many of the soft technicians as she could.

  Another idea occurred though, concerning the numerous open hatches inside the war machine. Could she possibly hide inside the thing? Wriggling and scraping herself severely, she managed to slip into one of the hatches and seal herself in. Waiting inside to be discovered, she began to regret her hasty decision. How could the enemy’s diagnostics not discover her immediately? She chided herself for being overly concerned with her own survival.

  Outside, the sounds of the vertebrates rose in level, and then dropped away again. The shrade inside knew great relief. Soon, she judged that they had all left her alone again with the great machine.


  Surprised at her own good fortune, she made to stealthily exit, but couldn’t. Try as she might, the hatch wouldn’t open. She was jammed in tight.

  Scampering larvae simply thronged the nest. The Parent grunted and heaved, depositing another egg into the waiting arms of a clittering hest. Three large, cavorting killbeast larvae chased a smaller one, probably a hest or a culus-it was difficult to tell them apart in the larvae stage-up onto her birthing throne, across her painfully swollen chambers and down the other side. An involuntary hissing sound of discomfort and exasperation escaped from her food tube. It was simply too much for one Parent, all this birthing. Already she had laid an estimated five thousand eight hundred eggs since arriving on the target world. Developmentally, the offspring were now broken roughly into thirds, one third as eggs, one-third larvae and one-third adults.

  …Suddenly, a cramp gripped her fatigued fourth birthing orifice. The fourth chamber was currently at the end of its cycle in producing a jugger. The fourth orifice cinched up tight, puckering at the worst possible moment during the cycle. The jugger egg was of course the biggest variety, requiring the greatest dilation of the birthing orifice in order to pass. Powerful muscles involuntarily contracted, bearing down on the rubbery egg and attempting to force it out. The results were inevitable, and exceedingly painful. A great wet ripping noise filled the birthing chambers. Her fourth chamber ruptured, releasing a gout of fluids. The Parent set up a tremendous fluting howl that turned the orbs of every hest and larvae in the nest. The hest came scrambling to her aid, while the larvae, fearing discipline, stampeded away toward the farthest reaches of the tunnel-complex.

  When the Parent had regained some of her composure, she reprimanded herself sternly. She lacked experience and had made the classic error of a young Parent, thinking she could do the whole job herself. Enough was enough. She had to have help: she had to have daughters.

  Leaning her vast bulk heavily on her left-side clump of tentacles, she raised her drooping orb-stalks to call for the eldest nife. It was time to meld.