by Eric Thomson
They dragged him inside and shoved him into a metal chair. Restraints slapped over his wrists and ankles, pinning him down. Then, the hired guns backed off and took a position against the walls of the lounge.
The room was plush, as Decker expected from anything surrounding Amali. It was the size of a typical citizen's living room, about ten meters by ten meters. Three of the four walls were a muted beige, while the fourth, the one Zack faced, was the milky opaque of a polarized window, currently shut.
Smooth blue carpeting covered the floor, complementing the exquisite period furniture with its tones of turquoise and lavender. Several loungers were grouped around table hewn from a single crystal. Abstract paintings from old Earth Masters covered the three solid walls.
They waited in silence as the minutes ticked by. Zack wished he could work off his rising anxiety by throwing wisecracks at the mercs, but he fought to keep silent. The last thing his pride would let him do was to show those rent-a-troopers that an old Marine noncom was scared. This was obviously the start to the promised finale.
After almost half an hour, the doors sighed again, and Zack caught a whiff of Walker Amali's expensive scent.
“Good morning, Mister Decker. I trust you've recovered from your little session with Doctor Cantos. An exceptional scientist, our doctor, do you not think so?” Amali came into Decker's field of view and smiled at his captive. He wore an expensive white tropical suit of shimmering silk, which absorbed perspiration without a trace. A platinum chain glittered around his neck, nestled below a strong chin.
Zack, for want of anything better, smiled back, peeling his lips from his teeth in imitation of an Arkanna challenge. The gesture was lost on the human.
“A pity he is slowly sinking into madness,” Amali continued, “but he does good work for me, and I must reward him as he wishes, with the finest quality shimmer.”
He sat down on the sofa, his gestures elegant and restrained.
“Somehow I feel I must thank you for having provided me with such a wealth of information, Mister Decker. Shame that you were telling the truth about not being a Naval Intelligence agent. Had you kept your nose in your own affairs, you would have had a pleasing career on my ships. I can always use Fleet-trained material. A pity too that your meddling has cost a competent first officer her life. Darhad was destined for her own command in one of my shipping firms.” He smiled sadly at Zack.
“Bastard,” Decker spat out. “You won't put the blame for her death on me. She was an honorable woman, who did what she believed was right. It was your whore who killed her!”
Amali's sad smile broadened into a delighted grin. Zack could read the 'gotcha' spelled out in large letters on his face, and to his surprise, the realization calmed him.
“You know, Amali, I can't figure why I let a sniveling little coward like you get my goat,” he said, voice low and even, though it remained hoarse. “You wouldn't last a minute in a man-to-man fight. But then, I forget. You're not really a man, are you? Tell me, was that bleached blonde of the other day actually a woman, or was she just for show?”
Walker Amali's grin froze, and his nostrils flared minutely, but he did not otherwise react.
“Insult me all you want, Decker. You can prove what a man you are very soon.” He snapped his fingers at his attendant, whom Zack hadn't noticed until now. The woman, a small, pale-skinned, and thin creature of indeterminate age and pinched countenance scuttled forward.
“Yes, Walker?” Her voice was soft, weak, and her use of Amali's first name sounded stilted, uncomfortable. She wore a white lab smock over a tan pantsuit and kept her agitated hands in the coat's pockets.
“Sit, Ellenah.” As she complied, Amali turned his attention back towards Zack. “This is Professor Ellenah Rocheford, late of the Pacifica Institute of xenomedical research. Among her many degrees and accomplishments, she is an expert in alien neurosciences. Ellenah, meet Mister Zachary Thomas Decker, late of the merchant vessel Demetria, which, you'll be interested to know, Decker, we are actively hunting down.” Again that cruel grin flashed across the magnate's face.
But Zack felt an inner jubilation. They hadn't found Avril yet. By all appearances, she had escaped and Amali had made a mistake telling him. Now, the gunner could let himself relax.
“Mister Decker will assist us by acting as a test subject,” the aristocrat continued. “I think it is appropriate that he receive a full briefing before we begin the experiment, purely in the interests of fairness.”
Yeah, I'll bet, Zack thought disgustedly. You want to be fair to me like a reiver wants to tango with a fully armed Pathfinder commando. More like enjoy a bit of psych torture before you let me have it.
“Ellenah will be pleased to explain everything and answer all your questions.” He nodded at the woman. “You may begin.”
“Yes, Walker. Mister Decker, have you ever heard of a planet called Ventos Prime?”
“Yeah. Been there, seen the nuke strike craters, scanned the eggs on board Shokoten and the stasis boxes that contained, no doubt, a couple of mature ones. Now you want to surprise me by announcing that you have a matched set of Quas on this island.”
“Ah, so you know. Good, that will make my explanations much simpler.” She seemed to take Decker's familiarity in stride.
“Sure Ellenah, but you’ll tell me why, aren't you?” Zack smiled his patented Decker smile at her, but the old charm was gone. Or the Professor was immune.
“Why not start from the beginning.” Amali's silky voice intervened.
As if Zack had suddenly inherited Raisa's empathic talent, he knew this briefing was important to Amali, that the gunner was the first outsider to see the extent of his plans and accomplishments.
“Yes, Walker. A Navy survey ship discovered and charted Ventos Prime twenty years ago. They found a remarkable example of dual evolution that produced two quite distinct species, constantly at war with each other. The Qwallor, six-limbed reptilians, developed on one of the two largest continents and attained sentience approximately thirty thousand standard years ago. They evolved rapidly and have reached the rough equivalent of Earth's early atomic age. The other species, the Quas, are six-limbed insectoids who evolved on the other main continent, in total isolation from the Qwallor. A hive society, the Quas are at best semi-sentient and in the estimate of the Commonwealth's best xenologists, will likely remain so. However, the Quas are very prolific, highly aggressive and very, very expansionistic. Their soldier subspecies has terrifying strength, speed, and endurance. The expanse of ocean between the two species has kept them apart for millions of years, until sometime recently, within the last millennia, a storm washed a young queen and a few drones across the water on a natural raft. Or at least that's what Qwallor scientists believe. The newcomers immediately tried to establish a colony, starting an interspecies struggle that still goes on.”
“The Qwallor soon found that the only weapon in their inventory that could destroy a hive was a nuclear device. They wiped out the abortive colonies on their continent and then built long-range bombers in an attempt to bring genocide to the Quas lands, with very limited success. Under ideal conditions, a single surviving queen can spawn as many as fifty new hives in the space of a hundred standard years. That, Mister Decker, can mean up to fifty million adult Quas, consuming everything organic in sight, even each other when nothing else remains.”
“Shit,” Zack interrupted, laughing. “You want to seed Outworlds with these bugs and watch 'em eat up whole colonies? It won’t work, Amali!”
“Silence, Decker,” the magnate snapped. “And listen.”
“You are correct. Such a project would not be viable. Though incredibly resilient individuals, the Quas' reproductive cycle slows in conditions too different from their home world. They would not spread fast enough on Earth-norm planets to achieve critical mass and overwhelm them. It would take very long to breed them to adapt to Earth-norm, however, in a controlled environment, the queens will thrive.”
“Then w
hat are you doing with the things?”
“Patience, Mister Decker. The Qwallor have the Quas under control on their world though they're slowly poisoning it with radioactive fallout. After discovering the Quas, the Navy interdicted Ventos Prime, correctly deducing that the insectoid species represented a grave danger if taken off-planet, a disease that could devastate any life-bearing world. They continued their studies under strict secrecy, however, recording a significant amount of valuable information. Nevertheless, importation of Quas eggs or queens is a serious offense. Walker,” she motioned to her boss, “found out about the Quas and immediately saw the potential in them. He hired me to study his plans and develop a way to turn these semi-sentient beings into something humans could control.”
“You wouldn't,” Zack gasped, suddenly realizing where the Professor's monolog was headed.
“We already have, Mister Decker,” she continued, unemotional as ever. “We have implanted control circuits into Quas brain stems and can control their actions through neuroelectric impulses.”
“Think about it, Decker,” Amali chimed in, unable to resist crowing at the climax of Rocheford's story. “A hive of Quas, with a queen at the center, a queen producing eggs like a munitions factory produces artillery shells, and every two out of three shells, soldiers, almost two meters tall, bodies covered with their own natural armor, fearless, ruthless and unstoppable. A private army under my control.”
“And the bugs just let you do it?”
“No,” Rocheford shook her head. “They're semi-sentient and don't recognize such concepts as cooperating with other species. For Quas, there is either their own hive, or prey, but we found that short of killing them, one thing will incapacitate Quas without harm: a particular ultrasound frequency. We disable them with the sound and while they're stunned, bore into the chitin at the base of the neck, connect the box, and close the opening. It will be easier with the hatchlings, which we will implant at the pupa stage while the exoskeleton is still forming. So far, we have harnessed the adults that came from Ventos Prime, except the queen, of course.”
“Just an idle question, Prof. How come the Qwallor obtained bugs for you? I thought you said they nuked 'em on sight.”
“I shall answer that, Ellenah,” Amali's smooth, cultured voice stayed the Professor's reply. “You see Mister Decker, we offered them an irresistible price for their cooperation: the disabling ultrasound frequency. It will not do them much good as they don't yet have the technology to produce it at a sufficient energy level to do more than simply repel the creatures. Nor, do I think, will they ever attain that level. I fear their world is doomed to perish under the weight of environmental poisoning. The Qwallor part of their world that is. Quas can absorb radiation and other poisons without problems. They can survive where no human can. Who knows, maybe they will mutate into something even fiercer.”
Amali rose and approached the milky polarized window. With a sweep of the arm, he gestured towards the impenetrable barrier.
“Mister Decker, prepare to meet the future terror of the Marine Corps. An army of soldiers who don't question orders but execute them, even if it means their own lives; soldiers who take six months to hatch and six more to reach adulthood, with all the fighting instincts built-in. Compare that to the eighteen years or so it takes to make a Marine from a single ovum and spermatozoid. With my one queen, the good Professor assures me I can have a regiment within two years, even under the less than ideal conditions we have here. A regiment that will renew itself completely every twelve months, a regiment that needs no logistics tail because it will live off the land. A cheap, renewable and highly efficient resource.” There was a light of madness in Amali's eyes as he spoke.
“The Quas soldier can be taught to use suitably modified plasma weaponry, simple to be sure, but deadly enough. And failing that, he can tear a human of your size and strength in two with his forelimbs just as easily as you can pass wind. His exoskeleton is equal to the armor your Marine friends wear, and a simple plasma rifle will not be enough to stop the soldiers. Not by a far cry. Consider them six-limbed, single seated tanks if you will. Tanks that will overwhelm even the bravest Marine regiment in the blink of an eye.”
“You're fucking insane, Amali.” If Zack wasn't scared before, he was now.
“No, Mister Decker, I’m merely desirous to solve the Commonwealth's endless bickering and problems for good. Since Grand Admiral Kowalski's day, the Fleet has been a law unto itself, flouting the rightful authority of the SecGen and the Senate, often in favor of the upstart colonies who style themselves the Outworlds. My army, which I will place at the SecGen's disposal, will sweep away anybody foolish enough to stand in the Coalition's way. If your Grand Admiral Connor fights our rightful leadership of the Commonwealth, millions of Outworlders will suffer. You cannot reason with Quas soldiers. They eat the ones they defeat in battle.”
“You're mad,” Decker whispered. But the sounds died in his throat as the murk vanished and the window opened to a nightmare world.
An embryonic Quas hive, in the heart of the Commonwealth.
Sixteen
“Behold, Mister Decker.” Amali's glee knew no bounds and for once, Zack was too horror-struck to make a smart remark.
On the other side of the window, a grotto bathed in dim red light cut a picture of the Hell foretold by so many human faiths. A hell populated by man-sized, six-limbed demons with huge composite eyes.
The Quas were much more hideous in person than their pictures on Korden's computer screen could convey. Insectoid down to every detail, their reddish-brown exoskeletal bodies looked like those of giant ants. On some of the creatures, the lower segment tapered into a short, powerful tail ending with a long stinger, a refinement Amali and his tame academic had forgotten to mention. It didn't take Zack long to realize that these were soldiers.
The most horrifying feature of the Quas was its head. A flattened ovoid that sat on the upper segment like a malicious tumor, it sported two huge, multi-faceted eyes, eyes that never closed, never blinked and never showed emotions. Beneath the eyes, a mouth like something out of a nightmare glistened. Its jaws were able to open wide enough to swallow a small pig. Blackened pincers as long as Zack's forearms framed the mouth and long, thin antennae grew out of either side of the head.
They walked on the rear two limbs, but the other four could be used as additional legs for climbing and running. Each arm ended in three sharp claws.
In the grotto, drones and soldiers skittered around, their limbs scraping across their chitinous bodies. It sounded eerily like the rustling of dead leaves. They chattered among themselves in a language that resembled the high-speed clicks of a beetle, if it had been fed amphetamines, but alien as they were, Decker could see that they belonged to a structured, disciplined and organized society.
What most held his attraction were the rows of pulsating, semi-translucent white globes: Quas eggs, hundreds of them.
“What do you think, Mister Decker?” Amali leaned languidly against the window, arms crossed, a look of intense satisfaction on his face.
“You have a producing queen,” the gunner replied, mind still reeling from the sight of the Quas hive.
“But of course. You helped bring it back here.”
He touched a key on a hidden pad by the window frame. The milky whiteness returned, only to dissolve into the image of a small cavern. In the middle of the chamber, gross, distended and nightmarish, a Quas queen wallowed in a nest built out of a vaguely aspic-like substance that pulsed every time she moved. Her distended, lumpy egg sac filled most of the space, glistening and shining with an inner light of its own. As Zack watched, mouth hanging half-open, another egg slid out of the sack, sticky and gelatinous.
“Another soldier, Mister Decker,” Amali smirked. “Two out of three eggs are.”
A drone picked up the egg with loving care and skittered out of the queen's chamber, chattering away in its clicking tongue. The image faded as Amali fiddled with the controls. It refo
rmed, this time showing a honeycombed cavern of indeterminate height. Each alcove contained a whitish, fibrous mass, held into place by thin filaments. The masses moved and writhed in their nests.
“These are the pupa hatched from the eggs you brought back from Ventos Prime. All are doing well. I have twenty new soldiers, ten drones and,” Amali's voice dropped to a whisper, “one new queen.”
“She will be ready for impregnation in less than a year,” he continued, “a ritual I shall be most interested in watching. You see, the drones compete for the favor of a single moment of sex, but at what cost, Mister Decker, what cost?” His eyes gleamed with perverse pleasure. “I shall tell you what cost: the queen eats her mate after the act.”
Decker snorted.
“I know a few human females who'd do the same thing, given half a chance. Like your whore, Nihao Kiani. Who knows? You might meet one like her soon, and good riddance.”
“You are mouthy for a man about to undergo the ultimate test, Mister Decker,” Amali snapped irritably.
Zack snorted. “Oh? And what would that be, asshole?”
“Laugh and insult me all you want, Decker.” Zack noticed that Amali's urbane politeness had vanished: he no longer rated the 'Mister' in front of his name. “But before you have too much fun, watch this.”
The window faded to white again before opening on yet another view of the hive.
“Unfortunately, we must make do with a recording. I would have liked to show you a live example of Quas feeding, but...” He let the rest of the sentence hang. It didn't matter. Zack felt sick to the stomach as he realized what he was about to see.
A human, disheveled and gaunt, filled the center of the screen. Dressed in simple gray coveralls, like the ones Zack wore, he was tied to a stake with a chain that wrapped around his waist. The chain had maybe two meters slack. Zack recognized the prisoner and his nausea intensifed.
“Failure must be dealt with swiftly and harshly, pour encourager les autres, right Decker?” Without waiting for a reply, Amali continued. “It was Captain Strachan's misfortune to hire you aboard Shokoten and jeopardize my plans, the second time he has made the mistake of taking on Fleet infiltrators. He will not make that mistake again. Another good officer lost because of your meddling, Decker. Oh, have no fear, he is alone in paying the ultimate price. Your former shipmates, whom I cannot blame as they don't even know they serve me, are alive and still aboard Shokoten, under a new master.”