Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

  An unclassified tramp and a Terran shuttle collided as a settee zipped between them just before Emn pulled at their embedded cellulose. Atalant mentally cheered and then fell silent as the first settee took damage. It wasn’t a direct hit—simply a laser blast across its port plating—but it sent the crimson ship into a drift towards the planet.

  “We got it, Eld Atalant.” Before she could issue the command, two other settees, one of them apparently with Nicholas onboard, flew to the damaged one, gently bumping and guiding, until the affected ship regained control. They wouldn’t be so lucky next time. They needed—

  Atalant? Emn’s voice was barely a whisper in Atalant’s head.

  Are you all right? She was getting no visuals from Emn anymore, which concerned her. Had she run out of dead trees? They could use the live ones, perhaps, although the thought turned her stomach. They only needed a few more minutes! Were there other options? Alternate energy sources? Memories of Arik after moving Ardulum, of him burning through his extra Talents to save the planet, popped into Atalant’s mind.

  Have you had to reach into your own reserves? Atalant asked, alarmed. Emn, you can’t—

  I’m fine, Atalant. A message from the Ttynn was just broadcast, which, by the way, is the pod you fired at. It was an open broadcast, but I think the message is for you.

  Can you read it to me? Atalant asked as the Lucidity took another hit and smoke began to rise from the floor as well. I’m having a hard time with the smoke and the double vision I get from these deeper connections.

  Atalant blinked, and suddenly, she was seeing through Emn’s eyes, from Emn’s place on the Risalian cutter. A markin stood to her right, hir hands wringing the hem of hir blue tunic. Emn’s eyes focused on the screen in front of her. Through their connection, she sent, It says, ‘space slugs.’

  Atalant’s mind snapped back into the Lucidity. She smiled and tried to take a deep breath, her chest constrained by the seat harness. Exactly those words? she asked. That’s not a translation from Mmnnuggl?

  No, Emn responded. It came through in Common. Yorden?

  Certainly. The Mmnnuggls were paying attention. The combination of the settees and the exploding metal was starting to unsettle them. It was time to drive the message home.

  “Nicholas!” Atalant yelled into the open comm.

  “Okay!”

  Her hands were back in the console’s depressions before she realized what she was doing. The Lucidity burst forward towards the largest pod, the Ttynn. Atalant juked around skiffs and settees, frigates and cutters, tramps, dredgers, barges, and liners. Her console smoked, and she waved it off, coughing. Emn tried to bat debris away from her hull, but her energy was waning. The dead andal was quickly depleting. Atalant ignored the increasing impacts. She ignored the battery of laser fire from small pods trying to impede her progress, ignored the cellulose laser fire she now encountered. She ignored the proximity alarms and Emn’s questions about the state of her ship.

  “Get ready,” she said to Representative Hepatica. A thin braid of hyphae twirled from her pocket and captured the chemical signatures in the air.

  “Your ship is on fire,” Hepatica squeaked. “It was on fire. The fire is out. Oxygen is limited.”

  “I know,” Atalant returned. She fired on two small pods in her path, obliterating one shielded with hemicellulose and knocking the other from its course. The Ttynn loomed ahead, a dark, spherical mass ringed in green lights. On the upper-left quadrant of the pod, a lateral section of hull opened, and lime lighting poured into space. Atalant set her heading, cut her thrusters, and, now that her path was clear of pods and no additional ones were appearing, allowed the Lucidity to coast into the docking bay.

  “Yorden is on this ship,” she added, giving the fungus a light pat as she had seen Nicholas do. “Are you ready?”

  Hepatica quivered. “We have over three million spores produced and readied for release. We need only to be told when.”

  “Once we’re on the Ttynn, I’ll let you know.” The Lucidity entered the hangar unmolested and drifted gently to the floor. “Just wait for my word.”

  Chapter 22: Ttynn

  MARKIN: We request that you send a full, detailed report of these Talent structures along with the cargo. In addition, we request data on what alterations have been done to the beings.

  ELD: We can provide you with the Talent listing as per your request, but our medical files cannot be shared. As we have no interest in the creatures once they are under your guardianship, we encourage you to alter them to fit your needs. You will find flare genetics malleable, and with a gestation period of three months, you should find your desired traits coming to the forefront in only a few generations.

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

  JANUARY 27TH, 2061 CE

  “The Keft ship is on an intercept course with our upper-left hanger bay,” Captain Hhffvnoll said. He rose to Yorden’s height and curled in his ears. Next to Yorden, Salice leaned casually against the hallway wall, eyeing the Mmnnuggl captain with…Yorden couldn’t quite tell. Wariness? Fondness?

  Hhffvnoll continued. “We’re allowing access, as you instructed. However, I am not pleased with the current turn of events. This debris cloud, no doubt the work of the flare, is needlessly antagonistic. I appreciate your efforts in bringing her to us, Conqueror, but in this scenario, what do the Neek hope to gain? What do we gain by bringing the biped aboard, unless it is to accept Neek surrender, which is not our goal?”

  “But you’d accept Ardulan surrender, right?”

  Hhffvnoll chirped. “Yes, I would accept an Ardulan surrender.”

  “Well, the Neek speaks for both, as I understand it, and she can help convince Emn, if you’re still hoping she’ll join your side. They’re mating, conveniently. This is what you wanted. A chance to talk to the Ardulans. Negotiate. Broker. You’ve shown your cards, and they’ve shown theirs—and maybe that’s enough, for now. You won’t know until you talk to her.” Yorden leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, I’ve got the Ardulans under my control, even if things seem otherwise. Even if things seem out of hand later, I’ve got this.”

  Hhffvnoll spun once in a circle but remained silent. They started walking, Hhffvnoll keeping pace with Yorden and Salice just behind, and eventually rounded the circular hallway to the docking bay. Every fifth step, Salice’s toe caught the back of Yorden’s heel. Not enough to trip or hurt, but enough to let Yorden know she was still there. It was endearing—and irritating. Yorden just hoped she dropped the habit once they left the pod.

  They stopped again upon entering the bay as Atalant’s ship was just beginning entry. “I assume she will also explain why Emn is directing the activities outside?”

  Yorden stroked his beard and shrugged his shoulders. “Emn is in containment on the Kelm. I had her placed there myself, using your crew members. If she’s directing anything, it’s from behind a containment field. I doubt she has any role in this.”

  At that statement, Hhffvnoll slicked his ears back against his body. Yorden surveyed the hangar while the other captain processed the information. A number of spheres bobbed at the interfaces embedded in the black paneling that lined the walls. Some were vibrating, and a few of the younger spheres were rolling on the metal floor, whistling to themselves. In the middle of the floor, garish in the lime-green lighting, a magenta ship shaped like a deformed acorn cut its thrusters and slid to a stop. It was twice Yorden’s height and looked long enough for five or six separate rooms aside from the cockpit. Salice exhaled audibly, although whether it was from the colors or anticipation, Yorden couldn’t tell.

  “What’s got them so upset?” Yorden asked.

  Hhffvnoll let his ears sag. “The outside action toys with their emotions. It is hard for my people to move on from Ardulum. They are…easily swayed at this juncture. They are eager, I suppose, to hear what the Neek has to say.”

  “If she’s representing Ardulum and is
here to surrender, don’t you want more of your people in here?” Yorden strode towards Atalant’s ship and thumped the hull. “If you want to reinforce rhetoric, nothing works better than a visual.”

  Hhffvnoll bobbed once. “Perhaps. A few additional ones, then. I will send the message.” The captain emitted several low chirps. At a nearby panel, another Mmnnuggl chirped in response, and a band of green light streaked across the interface.

  “Timing will be very important with this.” Yorden turned back to the Mmnnuggl captain, pleased to see that Salice had disappeared. The Mmnnuggls rarely noticed her anymore, which made it all the easier for Salice to sneak onto Atalant’s ship.

  There were six entrances to the round hangar, and Mmnnuggls began to filter in simultaneously from all sides. They stopped and stacked together in a wide crescent around the ship, leaving room for more to fill in behind. The magenta ship depressurized with a loud hiss. The first row of Mmnnuggls skittered back.

  Be smart, Atalant, Yorden thought. You know this game. We talked about how this would go.

  Hhffvnoll moved to Yorden’s side. “We are ready. She may proceed at any time.”

  Yorden squared his shoulders. Immediately after, the side of the ship opened to form a ramp. A tall woman glided down, dressed in loose golden robes tied with a striking purple sash. Her light hair was pulled back in its usual braid, and to the unfamiliar eye, her face likely looked calm. Yorden caught the tells however—the tightness of her lower lip, the way she pulled at the cuffs of her sleeves. She was nervous, and he didn’t blame her. They’d played bluffs in the past, but never like this.

  “The Neek is an eld of Ardulum?” Hhffvnoll whispered to Yorden. “In the transmission, it looked to be a joke. Her words will have more impact, although I question Ardulum’s choices in this.”

  “I question Ardulum’s choice in a lot of things,” Yorden muttered under his breath.

  Atalant reached the bottom of the ramp. Her eyes found Yorden’s and twitched a fraction of a second before her seemingly calm expression smoothed back into place. Yorden stepped forward, a hand held out in greeting.

  “Eld,” he said, his tone flat. “We are prepared to accept your surrender and begin negotiations.”

  The Mmnnuggls twittered nervously behind him. Hhffvnoll was right. The gold robes were hitting all the sensitive spots. Hhffvnoll seemed less affected, but then, Hhffvnoll didn’t seem nearly as invested in the Ardulan religion as the other Mmnnuggls Yorden had met.

  “I have come for the Ardulan you keep prisoner here,” she responded just as flatly. “You will return her to her people.”

  “Not happening.” Yorden crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t do Ardulum anymore. Didn’t you get the memo? We killed her. All Ardulans must die. Rhetoric and such.”

  A very real shudder came from Atalant. A little too close to home? They hadn’t gotten specific about the dialogue, but this wasn’t the time to take things personally. Unsure of what else to do, Yorden winked. Atalant caught the motion, and Yorden hoped she remembered the meaning behind the Terran gesture. She needed to stop pressing the Salice issue, given that the woman was at this moment sneaking onto Atalant’s ship.

  “We might spare you, if you ask nicely. You are a Neek, not an Ardulan. The Mmnnuggls can see this clearly on your hands. They don’t have a quarrel with your people, nor any beings the Ardulans have misled. Hell, they’re willing to put their faith in a Terran. That should tell you something. Besides, we know your history.”

  Something changed in Atalant’s face—a fleeting emotion that Yorden couldn’t place. “I am Eld,” Atalant returned. Her voice was chilly, and the thick hair on Yorden’s arm rose. “Chosen by the andal, and quite against my wishes. I would be open to brokering a cease-fire, but the Mmnnuggls have a great deal to atone for. As do you, Conqueror Kuebrich.”

  Yorden absorbed the bite. It was well deserved. Even the Mmnnuggls knew it, as their chittering rose in tempo. “We would be open to reparations for the Neek,” he said slowly.

  Hhffvnoll chirped in agreement. “The andal destruction was not done lightly. We will not give in to Ardulum, however.” Hhffvnoll floated up to Yorden’s head height and spun in three complete rotations. “I will negotiate for Neek. I will not negotiate for Ardulum.”

  “Then, we have nothing left to discuss.” Atalant reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled from it a fibrous, white clump. It fit perfectly into her palm, and Yorden almost thought he saw it jiggle. Hhffvnoll’s ears curled in and some of the spheres began to whistle, but Yorden held up his hand. The whistling died away.

  “The scans of the Lucidity showed no weapons onboard,” Yorden said loudly to the spheres. “Just the ones physically attached to the exterior of the ship. Calm down. It has to be mostly organic.” He met Atalant’s eyes, hoping the flatness of Representative Hepatica was an aesthetic choice and not an indication of their health.

  “What am I looking at?” Yorden challenged. Now, they were back on track.

  “Ardulum’s negotiation.” Filaments began to unwind from the mass and fell between Atalant’s fingers. They hit the floor, continuing to elongate, until the final bit of white bled from her hand.

  Hhffvnoll floated to the floor to inspect the mass. “What is this?” he demanded. The sphere turned toward Yorden, his ears thin rolls against his body. “This was not discussed. This conversation is not as it should be. In addition, our scans reveal chitin in this—this thing. What is it?”

  Hepatica suddenly expanded exponentially across the floor, their white filaments curling onto pods and up walls. Flakes of metal began to float down.

  Mmnnuggls broke from their columns and tried to surround the mycelium, which now coated most available surfaces. Hhffvnoll shrieked commands in Mmnnuggl, but the spheres, panicking, ignored him.

  Yorden grabbed the Mmnnuggl captain by the ear and pulled him close, so that his lips were right against the pale appendage. “You don’t have to die today,” Yorden hissed, “and neither do your people. Your family is on this ship. I want you to think really hard about your choices. Ardulum is fighting back, and we can all walk away from this and go back to our lives, or your people can get thrown back a century. Your choice.”

  A low whistle came from a narrow slit on Hhffvnoll’s body. Yorden released the ear, and the Mmnnuggl spun sharply. His ears twitched, and the top of his body took on a sickly green tone. Yorden huffed. He’d been on a Mmnnuggl ship too long. He knew exactly what that coloring meant.

  “I’m not behind Ardulum,” Yorden explained in a low whisper. “I don’t give a fuck about that planet, but I do care about some of its inhabitants and rulers. What I’d like is for you all to shake torsos and agree to leave each other alone, but if that isn’t going to happen, I’m siding with the Neek. ‘Cause whether you like it or not, Ardulum, through some very convoluted pathways, does, in fact, listen to me.”

  Neither got another chance to speak. The floor cracked. A ten-meter section near one of the doorways gave way, and three Mmnnuggls fell through to the deck below. That spurred everyone into action. Spheres charged the now aerial mycelium with their bodies or shot at it with lasers, but only managed to singe Hepatica’s white hyphae. The fungal mass, now writhing with thick tendrils, snaked through the small gaps in the wall and short-circuited the electronics. The paneling broke apart. More Mmnnuggls fell.

  “It’s time to go, Captain.” Atalant grabbed Yorden’s sleeve and tugged. “Salice is already onboard.”

  Yorden began to follow, but looked back over his shoulder before boarding the ramp to the ship. He couldn’t distinguish the Mmnnuggl captain through the chaos, but he called loudly, “Captain! Get your kids out of here!” A creaking sound came from above, and when Yorden looked up, powdered flakes from the ceiling snowed onto his face. He tried to wipe the bits from his eyes using the sleeve of his flight suit, but that only served to grind in the powdered metal. He could still see, but his vision was distorted and grainy and—damn his eyes hurt. H
e ran up the Lucidity’s ramp, tears streaming from his eyes.

  “Yorden!?” The voice was Atalant’s.

  “Get us out of here, Atalant!” Yorden bellowed back as he felt the solidity of the Lucidity’s carpeted floor under his feet. He bumped into a wall, eyes still tightly shut, and heard the boarding ramp shut.

  “Captain—”

  “Atalant, now!” Yorden rubbed at his eyes, desperate to clear them or get some relief from the pain. He heard the stamp of Atalant’s boots on the carpeted floor and then the firing of the ship’s thrusters.

  The Lucidity jerked, and Yorden fell against the wall, hitting his head against what felt like textured wallpaper. He forced his eyes open again, this time to a haze of colors that bled into one another.

  “Pbbb.” Salice rested a hand on Yorden’s shoulder as the Lucidity made another tight turn.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered. “Take me to the cockpit, okay?”

  Salice led Yorden through a hall of yellows into a surprisingly large cockpit. Here, the yellows bled into greens and browns and then formed into shapes he thought looked like chairs.

  “Yorden?” That was Atalant’s voice. Salice led him to a chair, but he refrained from sitting. He’d not break her new ship his first time on it.

  “Can’t see well,” he said, rubbing at his eyes again. “We on track?”

  The tone of Atalant’s voice changed due to either worry, fatigue, or both—Yorden didn’t know. “We’ve cleared the Ttynn and left a gaping hole in her side. Three of the pod frigates and half a dozen of the small pods, oval and otherwise, are moving towards her. Maybe to salvage Mmnnuggls? Regardless, we’ve got about a dozen more coming towards us, too.”