Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

  A mass of thick curls pushed into the screen, lightly obscuring an exuberant face. “She’s an eld, Captain! Ruler of Ardulum and picked by the sentient andal.” Nicholas’s smile widened. “I wrote it all up for you, ‘cause I figured our communication time might be short. Sending it now.” His head disappeared from view, and a moment later, a small, green light flashed at the bottom of Yorden’s console. “Emn is here too, by the way,” Nicholas said from offscreen. “As is Representative Hepatica, a wood-decay fungus from the planet of Eie.”

  Yorden couldn’t see anything onscreen that resembled what he thought a sentient fungus might look like—no magic mushroom with eyeballs springing out of the cap—so he ignored that information for the moment. “Got the file, thanks.” Yorden scratched his chin and moved the file to storage. He wouldn’t have time to read it now. There was too much to discuss already, and Neek’s game with the robes was her own. Pihn’s communication to Salice still haunted him, but there wasn’t even much time right now to bring up Ardulum and Emn and what exactly had gone down.

  “Since we’re not discussing the golden elephant in the room, let me get to business. I’m alive. Salice is alive. Sorry—Salice is what I named the Ardulan woman we picked up on Neek. I kind of got entangled in Nugel, um, Mmnnuggl politics. Also, I’m the reason your planet got set on fire.”

  “Dick move,” Neek cut in. Her voice was biting. She had every right to be mad at him. From where she was sitting, he probably did look completely insane. Understanding didn’t make the tone cut any less.

  “Do you have any idea how bad it is down here?” Neek added.

  “No, I don’t.” He should have, really, but he’d stayed away from the feeds. Yorden didn’t need to believe in the divinity of andal to be affected by the burning of the Charted Systems’ technological infrastructure. “I… We gambled, Neek. It worked. It got your attention, and it saved the wholesale slaughter of Ardulum.” Yorden pursed his lips when Neek’s brow furrowed. “The Mmnnuggls wanted Emn and protection from Ardulum, even if that meant destroying Ardulum to get it.” He looked from her face to Salice and then back again. “We could have brought the fleet to an unprepared Ardulum, but I wasn’t going to let them destroy a whole planet, especially one my crew was on.”

  Neek nodded, but the frown on her face remained. “So, you destroyed my planet instead.”

  “I did what I had to do to keep all of you safe,” Yorden said defensively. “You can regrow trees. You can’t regrow a planet.”

  “You burned my planet!” Neek yelled.

  “I saved your life,” Yorden responded as calmly as he could manage. “And Emn’s, and Nicholas’s. They’re trees, Neek. I will help you replant. Hell, I’ll get the whole Risalian fleet to help you replant, but I’m not going to apologize for taking control of a shit situation.”

  Neek stood, took a step towards the screen, and then slammed backwards into her chair. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she muttered. “You’d better help us replant.”

  Yorden took the olive branch and directed the conversation to safer ground. “Yeah. I hear that. So, uh—” He leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “I need to know, Neek: is Ardulum coming here?”

  Neek’s mouth opened and shut several times. “No, although it could, theoretically. I don’t really want the planet blasted out of the sky though.”

  “Agreed. How many ships would you say you could get here in the next few days?”

  “As many as you need, in theory. We have several hundred, but not all are armed.”

  Yorden sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go with my original plan of just finding you all, getting on the fastest ship we can, and booking it out of this mess?”

  Neek pursed her lips. “Yorden, this is my home.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. I get it.” He searched the periphery of the screen with squinted eyes. “Emn is with you, yes? She’s the ‘Keft’?”

  “I’m here,” came a nebulous voice. Neek scooted to the right, and a dark-haired woman filled the screen. She was thin, but not unattractively so, and covered with more Talent markings than Yorden had thought existed. She wore the same tired expression as Neek, which, given the situation, was not surprising.

  “Emn,” Yorden said, nodding. “Glad to see you. Someone here who’d like to talk to you, I bet, once we get things sorted a bit more.” He shifted to the right, and a moment later, Salice pressed her face to the screen. “Meet Salice.”

  “And you, Captain. You look well. Salice, I’m so glad you are all right.”

  “Hey, Emn?” Yorden asked tentatively. He had a million questions he’d love answers to, but suddenly his mind was empty. “Salice is… Is she okay? She need anything or want some different clothes or something?” Yorden looked at Salice and offered a half smile. “She tried telepathy with me once, and I don’t know how she worked it, but she never tried again.”

  Emn laughed and shook her head. “She’s fine, Captain. She has some interesting stories about you and the Nugels, but she’s fine.” Emn’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “She says she would appreciate it if you took more frequent baths.”

  Yorden snorted and then smiled at Salice. “I’ll do so. Thanks for keeping me in line.” She tapped him lightly on the knee in response.

  Since that was settled for the moment, Yorden turned back to Emn. “I’ve got a lot of really angry beings up here who seem to want a piece of you. I wonder if I might borrow you for a few hours? I’ve got a markin on one of these ships I’d like you to speak with.”

  Emn’s face clouded. “Why?”

  “Because the Risalians are terrified you’re going to cook their planet, that’s why, and they’re only going to help us if I can convince them that it’s the Mmnnuggls you’re gunning for, not them. Though—” He shifted his gaze back to Neek. “I need to know, truthfully. The Mmnnuggls are telling me…rumors maybe. I dunno. Is Emn a danger because of all this…tattoo nonsense? She didn’t…lose control again, right? I heard a bunch of people died and such, including the Ardulan rulers. It wasn’t…it wasn’t Emn, right? She didn’t do it?” He paused and then locked eyes with Neek. “Did you? No judgements—I just want all the cards on the table.”

  Stunned silence answered him.

  “You…” Neek started. She shifted uncomfortably and then turned to Emn, who slowly met the pilot’s eyes.

  “Well, shit,” Yorden muttered.

  Neek held up her hands. “No, no, it’s not like that. I mean, not all like that. There was a lot of death, but it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Emn. Or rather, it wasn’t all of us.” Neek rubbed her forehead with her palm. “I mean, it was us, but there were others, and, oh, just fuck it. The andal killed the old Eld because it wanted to. Because they were assholes, if we’re being completely honest. They even tortured Emn. And Emn tried to help some other flares like herself, and then those people got power hungry, and they used Emn’s lessons to fry the populace, which of course Nicholas then partially saved. No one’s blameless, except him, and you don’t have to smirk so damn much.”

  “Who? Me?” Yorden opened his mouth in mock shock. “Never. But, uh, are you…she…planning on frying all the Mmnnuggls, then? Cause outside of running, I don’t know how we’re getting out of this. I’m not saying I’m necessarily against the idea of crispy Mmnnuggls, mind—I just want to discuss all the options. Maybe we can just fry the new Ardulan rulers? That might be enough for the Mmnnuggls. Honestly, that might be the best for the galaxy.”

  Yorden expected Neek to launch into a counter plan, or maybe even agree with him. They’d always been great at strategizing together. Instead, Emn giggled. The giggle turned into a laugh as Nicholas joined in. Neek’s face broke into a wide grin.

  “What?”

  “Yorden,” Neek said, laughing, “I rule the planet together with Arik—another Ardulan sort of like Emn—and Ekimet, who is one of the Ardulans stranded down on Neek. And I don’t think more death is the way to end this thing. I have a plan though, or at le
ast the start of one, if you want to hear it.”

  He did want to hear it, of course, but Neek’s other words stuck in his head. “You…rule Ardulum?”

  Neek sobered and nodded.

  “As an eld?”

  She nodded again.

  “All available jokes on the irony of that situation have been used up?”

  Neek snorted.

  “I have a lot of questions.”

  “Don’t we all.” Neek crossed her arms. “Did you want to hear my plan, or not?”

  Yorden nodded, embarrassed at his relief that she and Emn weren’t mass murderers, but still processing the whole Eld thing. It was a lot for a guy who’d been eating Mmnnuggl pellet food for a month. “I do want to hear it, but first things first: Emn, I need you to meet with that markin. It’s the first step to ending the Mmnnuggl blockade diplomatically. I promise you’ll be safe.” He quirked the side of his mouth at Emn’s scowl. “Come now, Neek will vouch for me, I’m sure. Besides, I’ll make sure you end up on a cutter with cellulose. Guaranteed insurance.”

  “Or, I could just blow them out of the sky right now and save us all the trouble.”

  Neek stifled a laugh, which only further confused Yorden. “Yes, you could, but that really wouldn’t help matters. It would directly hinder my efforts, in fact.”

  “All right,” Emn muttered. She took Neek’s hand, and Yorden raised an eyebrow. “Will you guarantee Atalant’s and Nicholas’s safety too, while I’m gone?”

  The name confused Yorden, until a late-night conversation with Neek floated back through his memory. “Actually, I was hoping to put them into a bit of a situation.” When Emn began to protest, Yorden held up his hand. “Let me explain. Salice and I have outlined a plan to get the Mmnnuggls out of here without mass bloodshed. They don’t deserve that. It’s going to take something mythic though, to reset their faith. If it’s big enough, we might be able to reaffirm the Neek’s religion as well, if that’s something you think they need. I’m banking on my best pilot though, and her ability to train a bunch of settee pilots in the next twenty-four hours. Markin Pihn has a cargo hold full of lasers—the basic, non-cellulose kind—ready to be attached to the settees.”

  Neek—rather, Atalant—blanched. “Did you have some thoughts as to the nature of this miracle you want to manufacture? And what specifically did you want me to teach the Heaven Guard? Targeting?” Atalant nodded to Emn. “Our miracle worker here can’t do anything without cellulose. Also, let’s leave my planet out of this. I’m not going to drag them back down into their dogma. I was thinking more mass confusion with all the ship wreckage in orbit, which still has cellulose in it.”

  Yorden frowned. “Not enough on its own. Small ships and fancy flying can do a lot for impressionable minds, and I’m not talking about the Neek. You sure your eld powers can’t help with any of that? If we could get some awesome piloting and some perfectly placed shots…”

  A thick band of woven something smacked Atalant’s cheek. She sighed and backed up, trying to brush off the undulating white mat now covering her arm. Yorden rubbed his eyes and squinted. Was that… What was that? Christ on a duck, that was a fungus! The band bobbed wildly in the air as Atalant careened. She stepped back again, tripped over a footstool, and landed on her backside.

  Yorden’s laugh rolled throughout the room, and he could hear Nicholas and Emn doing their best to stifle their own amusement. “Atalant you…your luck with disgusting things is just…” He tried desperately to breathe.

  Two thick strands of skeletal hyphae rubbed together, producing words in grating Common. “We are invested in this cause. Your third ruling party needs to return to Ardulum before the planet can move, and we understand this situation to be at odds with that action. Therefore, we will aid you. The current plan as presented is crude.”

  “Thanks,” Atalant said, holding her arm as far away from her body as she could manage. Yorden’s laughter reduced to a chuckle. “We’re open to suggestions, Representative Hepatica. Did you have something specific in mind?”

  “I might.” Nicholas stepped up to Atalant and offered his arm to what Yorden now realized was the Eiean representative. They unwound and attached themselves to the youth, wrapping several thick coils of hyphae around his arm. “Representative, you’re a decay fungus, are you not?”

  The white mat that now engulfed Nicholas’s arm quivered. “You are correct. We and our genetic relations digest specific sugars of wood, including hemicelluloses.”

  Nicholas nodded. “I saw what you did to the wood paneling in the mess of the Lucidity.” Atalant raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “It’s all cubically cracked and brown, and you did that in about a minute.”

  Hepatica smacked the side of Nicholas’s cheek, and the young man grinned. “Yes. My apologies. Your use of food to build ships was…confusing, at first.”

  “So,” Nicholas said, turning to face Yorden, “forget the lasers and training the Guard. Here’s your miracle. We’ve got a sentient fungus that can decay hemicellulose in minutes. We can send them to the ships to dissolve the overall integrity of the fleet. They don’t have to eat it all, just the structural joints and such. Heck, even just the weapons and shielding! Then, we don’t have to worry about lucky shots—we can just fly right through the ships, which is faster than trying to put lasers on settees and teaching Neek to use them anyway. We put Emn somewhere public so everyone can see she isn’t doing anything. We dissolve a few ships, the Nugels and the Neek think the Ardulans are all magical—since they tried to explain their powers with science but clearly failed—and the whole thing is fine again. Right? No one is going to suspect a sentient fungus. No one ever suspects a fungus.”

  “Except there is only one sentient fungus.” Yorden sat back in his chair. “So, at best, we can take out one ship.” He eyed the white mat with a mixture of awe and amusement. “Any more of you nearby?”

  Nicholas’s face fell. “Well, yeah. Technically only one ship, but…” he trailed off.

  Something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh came from Hepatica. “Dispersal is never a problem. Sporulation is inevitable. We lack, however, any method of propulsion, as our spores do not have gas-releasing flagella, such as those possessed by Ardulum. If you can clear paths, we can disperse, but we cannot direct. We will be limited by gravity and inertia. However, we produce many spores. Only one is needed per ship. Volume may be enough.” The fungus brought two braids of hyphae together and smacked them against one another. “We are always pleased to procreate.”

  Yorden eyed Hepatica, trying to decide if they were serious and, if so, how much he wanted to know about spacefaring spores. “Is a Risalian cutter public enough for you? The Risalians are sufficiently paranoid about Emn’s abilities already. This needs to be clearly the Ardulans’ doing from the perspective of the Mmnnuggls, and clearly our doing, through Hepatica, from the perspective of the Risalians.”

  “Well, great,” Atalant said, “but we still have to get a ship into space without being shot down—several ships, in fact—if you want Emn on a cutter before the action starts.”

  “Ah!” Yorden brightened and cracked his knuckles. He and Salice were prepared for this question. He turned and grinned at her and was met with a broad smile in return. “I’ll deal with getting Emn to the Risalians. To get you safely from the planet’s surface to within spitting distance of the Ttynn, we have an excellent idea, and it’s pretty similar to your thoughts on the flotsam, Atalant. We’re thinking directed obstructions, like swarming titha beetles—the really annoying kind. Get ready to take notes, and I hope you all haven’t just eaten. Mass digestion and loose body parts won’t be for the squeamish.”

  Chapter 19: Ardulan Temple, Neek

  MARKIN: Your trade is acceptable on a monetary scale. Cell-Tal’s technology transfer agreements are all in place, and we can have the diamond rounds to you by our next daily cycle. What is of interest, now, is how you expect us to control the beings you have just described.

 
; ELD: We have several varieties available, including mentally gelded ones that are much easier to control. As your species is incapable of telekinesis, perhaps this would be an easier introduction to their abilities. They would be suitable for coordination of drone aircraft, basic healing, weaponry assistance, and other areas involving direct supervision and explicit instructions.

  MARKIN: You are offering to sell us fools?

  ELD: No, Markin. In a galaxy dependent on cellulose, and with your own stable supply of andal, we are offering to sell you non-sentient, reproducing weapons.

  —Segment from a transcribed communication from the Ardulan Eld to the Risalian Markin, 2008 CE

  JANUARY 26TH, 2061 CE

  Ekimet stared at the female eld as the andal whispered in zir mind. Thin tendrils of thought wrapped around zir brain and delivered smells of wet and smoky forests, of salty air, of pain. The last Heaven Guard pilot had called in an hour ago to report that the fires had finally been put to rest. Ekimet had been able to remove most of zir mental barriers. The andal, however—the trees that survived—still felt the effects in the too-warm ground and the smoke that choked the air.

  Ekimet put those thoughts aside, but others moved to the forefront. The biofilm that Atalant had given zir from Corccinth still weighed heavily on zir. A flare. A flare. An underground resistance brought to light, now working in the open and sanctioned by the new Eld. A coup of a kind, led by zir own grandmother and facilitated by Risalian genetic meddling. Now…what? Like a game piece, Ekimet had been moved from system to system, and even as an eld, zie was still not in a position to direct zir own life. That burned more than the smoke coating Ekimet’s throat.

  “Eld Ekimet?” Atalant’s voice cut through zir thoughts.