Legba

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  Ivor moved his head back and forth, thinking. “Well, that is a little bit better. But still not enough to be actionable. By now, they have almost certainly gone into hyperdrive, heading off to god knows where…”

  Angela stepped closer to him. “God knows where, and so do we.”

  Ivor tilted his head, a grin beginning to form on his lips. “Go on…”

  Angela leaned against Ivor’s desk, their legs almost touching. “Svend’s message didn’t just say where they were. He also mentioned where they were going: the Dracon System.” A system of planets marked “Dracon System” on the map began to glow a bright shade of orange, and the dotted white line shot all the way to the glowing holographic sphere.

  Ivor nodded, smiling. “I think I know where this is going…”

  Angela pointed to the holographic map. “So all we have to do is plot a course between Verracci and the Dracon System, find the parts that aren’t navigable in hyperdrive, and—”

  Ivor crossed his arms, a look of satisfaction spreading across his face. “And bingo…”

  Angela grinned at him. “Exactly.”

  Ivor stood up from his chair, his body almost touching Angela’s. He offered her his right hand. “Excellent work. Truly outstanding.”

  She accepted his hand and shook it. They each delighted in the warmth of each other’s hands.

  Ivor took his hand back and brought it up to his chin, rubbing it lightly. “This gives me a delightful idea. If we are to exact our revenge, we had might as well make it profitable at the same time.”

  Angela, leaned against his desk, grinning. “I’m listening…”

  +++

  Dracon Station, Dracon System, Klaunox Sector

  Vox sat in the large room where she had been spending most of her days over the last few weeks. The large pod containing the new Amroth was still the room’s centerpiece, but a desk had been added, which had become Vox’s new workstation. Apart from the body in the pod, she was alone, her eyes cast down to the glowing surface of her viewpad, reading.

  The desk was far enough from the walls that it wouldn’t get in the way of the dozens of technicians who filtered in and out of the room over the course of a workday, attending to the various sorts of elaborate equipment that were keeping this being alive and developing. However, the desk was also far enough from the pod that Vox wouldn’t have to stare at her weird, naked, soft boss for the entirety of every shift.

  Her new position was admittedly an odd one. She had covered comms for Amroth, so ostensibly that was still her job: crafting any outgoing messages and responding to anything incoming. However, depending on how one chose to look at things, her “boss” was either dead, or being regrown, so he certainly wasn’t sending any outgoing messages. Plus, apart from the relatively low number of people who had seen the pod, the vast majority of people believed that Amroth was dead, so he wasn’t receiving any incoming messages, either. It wasn’t very much of a surprise to her that few people wanted to contact the private line of a dead man.

  That said, Vox was not one to complain. The lack of comms work meant that she could now spend forty hours per week sitting at her new desk, reading whatever she wanted to. In the last few weeks, she had managed to finish reading a few classic pieces of literature that she’d always meant to tackle, as well as an embarrassingly high number of trashy novellas. She was also starting to learn a new language, which would hopefully come in handy if she ever actually got to take a vacation.

  The position only had two major drawbacks. One, she had the vaguely defined duty of checking the progress of the new Amroth’s body as it grew. She didn’t have a strong background in the sciences, and she assumed that the swarms of technicians were doing a fine job keeping a handle on Amroth’s various internal systems. However, as someone who had spent a tremendous amount of time across a table from the last Amroth, staring at his face as he berated her or some other unlucky individual, she was a fairly good judge of the extent to which this new body was becoming a better or worse resemblance of her former boss.

  Every day, she was supposed to take a look at the new Amroth’s body, and fill out a brief form, detailing whether he was looking more or less like his former self. She did have to admit, for every day that went by, this new body and its new face did resemble her former boss more and more. She had no idea what his former genitals looked like, but luckily there weren’t any specific questions about how they were coming along.

  The second drawback of this position was her commanding officer. With Amroth in a state that certainly made him incapable of any sort of administrative duties, Vox reported directly to Malleghan. Admittedly, he was not cruel – or, at least, he had not been cruel to her – but there was something about him that still just freaked her out. Standing beside him was like standing alongside death itself. Luckily, his office was across the hall, so he was only there to deeply unsettle her at unpredictable, intermittent intervals. On a particularly boring day, it was always reassuring to remember that at least she wasn’t sharing an office with Malleghan.

  Vox stared at her viewpad, a look of boredom on her face. Her eyes dashed quickly to the left, turning to the tenth page of another august classic that she had skipped entirely when she was a student. She was considering ditching it for a pulpy tale about the sexually liberated denizens of a frontier colony, when a bright green light began to glow on her desk.

  She sat up in her chair, surprised. This was the first incoming message she’d received since the desk had been set up for her, and she’d had to test whether the system worked. Okay, she thought, taking a deep breath. You can do this. She moved her eyes to her right in her corteX interface, and suddenly a loud voice issued from a pair of speakers built into the surface of the desk.

  It sounded like the voice of a man. “Hello? Is this Amroth’s private line?”

  Vox leaned closer to the desk, her posture tentative. “Uh… Yes, that— that’s right.”

  “Excellent. Put him on. Uh, please, I mean.”

  Vox gazed through the pod’s transparent pane, at the closed eyes of the naked, new Amroth. “I, uh, I’m afraid that he can’t come to the comms station right now. Can I take a message?”

  She heard a long sigh over the line. “Fine.”

  Using her corteX, Vox activated the desk’s primary visual surface, an illuminated rectangle in its center. She opened a blank file, the cursor at the ready. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “This is Ivor the Warrior, and—”

  Vox began to enter text into the file. “I’m sorry, just to check, that’s ‘Ivor’ spelled I-V-O-R?”

  “Y— Yes, that’s right…”

  Vox nodded. “Great. And ‘warrior,’ that’s just the traditional spelling?”

  “Yes! Yes! Look: I— I have information. I alone know how to track down the Chesed, a ship that is very prominently placed on the Federation’s Most Wanted list.”

  She nodded, bringing up that list in a separate file. “Okay, great. And just to be clear, that’s ‘Chesed,’ spelled C-H-E—”

  An exasperated groan came through the speakers. “Look, I don’t know how to spell it off the top of my head! It’s not like it’s my ship! It— It’s the fucking Chesed, spelled like ‘Chesed,’ all right?”

  Malleghan entered the room, striding towards Vox’s desk. He waved her out of her seat. “I can take this from here. Thank you for your service.”

  Vox’s entire body tightened. She picked up her viewpad and backed away from the desk, towards one of the corners of the room.

  The sound of a microphone being tapped issued from the speakers. “Hello? Is someone else there? Is that Amroth?”

  Malleghan leaned over the desk. “I am afraid not. This is his superior.”

  “H— His… What? I, uh, I thought he was the, uh, the top of the chain. Or, uh, the top of the pyramid… The boss, I mean.”

  Malleghan grinned. “I am sorry, but I regret to inform you that you are mistaken. You are a bit out of the loop on certai
n matters, I am afraid. Now, as to the information that you have at your disposal, let me assure you: your best course of action is to give up this information willingly.”

  “Sorry, man, but I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one. Instead, I’ll offer you a service. I know for a fact that the crew of the Chesed are on their way to the Dracon System, to destroy you—”

  Malleghan laughed aloud at this.

  “Can— Can I finish?”

  Malleghan smiled. “Yes, yes. Please. Do continue.”

  “Right. So, like I was saying, those people on the Chesed, they’re on their way to the Dracon System, to destroy you, but I have the ability to intercept them before they do. Before they destroy you, I mean.”

  Malleghan sat down in Vox’s seat, putting his elbows on the desk. He looked down at the open file before him, and saw the words: “Call from: Ivor the Warrior.” He smiled. “Ivor the Warrior. That name is… unfamiliar to me. Tell me. Who are you, exactly?”

  “You might not have heard of me, but if you’re anyone of any importance, then you’ll definitely have heard of my father. Does the name ‘Nikola the Fiery’ ring any bells?”

  Malleghan nodded to himself. “Ah. I see. So you’re the son of the great rebel captain. Are you calling on behalf of your father?”

  “W— What? No! This information, this information is mine! My dad and I, we, uh, we had a bit of a falling out…”

  Malleghan grinned. “Ah. So your lot’s back with the Federation, is it?”

  “Fuck no! I’ll be a rebel till I fucking die! The rebels, we, uh, we’re just figuring some stuff out at the moment, and—”

  Malleghan leaned back in Vox’s chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Ivor the Warrior. I have a proposition for you.”

  “Yeah? Shoot.”

  “If you destroy the Chesed, and bring me the girl, Bentley, alive – and that’s important, the girl must be alive – as well as bringing me her sword, then I will personally pay you one million volts. I will also provide you with a brand new naval ship, crew included. Of course, I can give you a moment to—”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal!”

  Malleghan smiled. “That is a very wise decision, Ivor. I look forward to seeing you as soon as you have completed your mission.”

  “And I’m looking forward to seeing you hand me a million volts. See ya, man!” With that, the green light clicked off.

  Malleghan stood up from the desk, laughing to himself. He looked over at Vox, who was still cowering in the corner, unsure what she should be doing.

  He took a deep breath, grinning. “It is always important to remember: the enemy of one’s enemy is not necessarily a friend. However, the enemy of one’s enemy can be extremely useful. We shall use this Ivor as ammunition, point him and his idiot crew at our enemy, and wait.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Aboard the Chesed, Deep Space

  Bentley stood on the bridge of the Chesed, staring at the main screen. As usual, it showed a live feed of the expanse of space that lay before the ship. She turned her head, looking around the room. Everything looked more or less right, but something about the bridge felt off, and she was having trouble identifying what it was.

  She assessed her surroundings. She was alone. That was a bit unusual, but not without precedent. She continued to gaze around the room. Everything seemed to be in its right place: the table, the chairs, the screens. She furrowed her brow and ascended the short flight of steps that led to the command deck.

  She looked over the various terminals and instruments. Everything seemed to be fine, until she let her gaze fall on the navigation terminal. Letters and numbers flitted across the screen, but she was having tremendous difficulty reading them and keeping them straight in her mind.

  Is this a dream? she thought to herself. I know that reading is supposed to be much more difficult, or maybe even impossible, when you’re dreaming…

  Her train of thought was cut short, as she was distracted by some movement on the bridge’s main screen. It mostly showed the same wide expanse of dark space, but there was also something moving out there. A small circle, which was glowing an intense, bright yellow. The circle seemed to be getting ever larger, and ever closer.

  Suddenly, she was not seeing events from within her own body, but from a far remove, a mile above the Chesed. She watched as the ship glided along its flight path, straight into a huge streak of fire, which was shooting directly towards it. As the fire began to consume the ship, blazing through its exterior, burning through every single square inch of its insides, she felt an incredible sense of motion in her chest.

  She snapped up, in her bed. She was sweating profusely. Her T-shirt was damp with sweat. She inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, trying to control her breath, trying to calm down.

  She heard a knock at her door. She turned towards it, her eyes still wide with fear. “C— Come in…”

  The door slid open, revealing Jelly Bean. She gazed at Bentley, a look of concern washing over her face as she approached the bed. “Bentley… Is everything okay?”

  Bentley shook her head. “No… Sorry, I mean, yes, yeah, I’m fine. What, uh, what’s up?”

  Jelly Bean clasped her hands behind her back. “I bring a message from Legba. He says that he is ready for another meditation session.”

  Bentley nodded slowly. Meditation actually sounds like just what I need right now, she thought to herself. She pulled her sheets off of her body, angled her legs towards the edge of the bed, and stepped onto the floor. The sensation of the cool metal on her bare feet was already waking her up.

  She looked over at Jelly Bean. “You can tell him that I’ll be there shortly.”

  +++

  Bentley’s home planet, Dacca Noir, Dracon System, Kaunox Sector

  Legba leaned forward in his seat, sitting opposite Raven Black in the booth. The crowd in the bar had thinned out considerably since she had arrived, and most of the customers who remained were either settling up their accounts or getting ready to leave.

  In the past few hours, Legba had consumed more drinks than he generally would in a given month, much less a given evening. He had to admit, he was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. His mind felt less sharp than usual, and his limbs felt a bit heavier. He had read that an inflated sense of confidence often coincided with inebriation, but that was a symptom he felt that he was severely lacking. Although Raven Black had opened up to him much more than he had expected she would over the course of the night, he was not at all sure that this openness had actually transmuted into trust.

  Legba gripped his glass, which was nearly empty. He looked into Raven Black’s eyes, trying to divine her thoughts. “Well? What do you think?”

  Raven Black looked into her own glass. She picked it up and swirled the last bit of beer around, pursing her lips. “I don’t know… ”

  Legba nodded. “I should say, if you do have any questions, I would be more than happy to answer them. I cannot emphasize enough, though, that I believe you could be of crucial importance in this endeavor.”

  Raven Black didn’t look up from her glass. Legba watched her, feeling defeated. Well, Legba, he thought to himself. This is not looking great. Paradoxically, if you are to convince her to come immediately, you will need more time... He looked out, past the booth, and noticed the female bartender, who’d been waiting on them all night.

  He finished off the last of his beer and turned to Raven Black. “How about one more?”

  She looked up at him, a look of indecision on her face. “I— I don’t know…”

  He waved over the bartender, grinning at Raven Black. “Oh, come now. Just a few more gulps, and a few more conversational volleys, and I am sure that we can get on the same page.”

  As the bartender approached the booth, Legba raised his right hand, sticking two fingers in the air. “If you would be so kind, we will take two more of the—”

  The bartender smiled tightly. “I’m sorry, hon, but last
call was about half an hour ago.”

  Legba looked up at her, thinking. “Ah. I see. If memory serves, that means that the sale of alcoholic beverages is now prohibited, likely by some sort of bylaw?”

  The bartender nodded slowly. “Yes… Yes, that’s what those words mean…”

  Legba clasped his hands together, content. “Excellent. Could we, uh, trouble you for two non-alcoholic beverages, then?”

  The bartender grinned more broadly. “You’re not exactly a bar guy, are you? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re not serving anything anymore. We are, however, accepting money.”

  Raven Black looked up at the bartender. “Just put everything on my tab, thanks.” The bartender nodded and handed Raven Black a metallic rectangle with a glowing screen.

  As Legba watched Raven Black enter her account information, his posture slackened. I suppose that this is it, he thought to himself. It looks as if you have done the same thing that you manage to do in almost every conversation you undertake. Not enough detail, yet more than enough oblique articulations that never quite land. Excellent for confusing and frustrating one’s listener, but not exactly the most reliable of rhetorical tools…

  The glowing screen that Raven Black held in her hands began to radiate a soft green light. She handed the device back to the bartender, who smiled and promptly walked back to the bar.

  Raven Black started to put on her jacket and gazed at Legba. “So? Should we get out of here before they kick us out?”

  Legba nodded and eased himself out of the booth. Raven Black stood up, downed the last of her drink and strode towards the exit, followed by Legba.

  They stepped out of the bar, into the cold of the night. Raven Black zipped up her jacket, shivering. “You mentioned you’re only in town for a short while, right?”

  Legba nodded. “Yes, that is correct. So if you are still undecided, I am very happy to figure this out, while I am still—”