It then released a dose of the substances it contained. The pilot’s altered organism responded forcefully. Even her tattoos were transformed. The ktol decided to enhance this part of Mallory as well. The sensitive ink changed, and the tangle of brambles became three-dimensional, deforming her skin with new veins full of viscous blood.
Concentrating on the fight, she didn’t even notice. The new injection gave her what she needed to go on, and nothing else mattered. After the ktol’s latest intervention, Vassili suddenly seemed to slow, and she was able to dodge the punch he threw to crush her skull.
This time, the process of improving her abilities was as intense as it was brief. She looked at Vassili, whose arm was embedded in the ground at the exact spot where her head had been a tenth of a second earlier.
Her thoughts became confused again: the ktol was operating at full capacity to sustain her body, and it was not concerned with alleviating her suffering. Mallory’s consciousness descended into a sea of pain, and only her core self and years of training remained to deal with Vassili.
They clasped each other in a murderous embrace, oblivious to their immediate surroundings. Each punch, every kick propelled them from one place to another, leaving destruction in their wake. In no time, the inside of the large sphere was devastated.
But despite the ktol and her determination, Mallory was losing.
At the other end of the Urkein’Naak, in a room where a Vohrn was busy at work, Laorcq replayed Hanosk’s comments about the pilot’s condition. Only someone who she cares about can take the chance of getting near her. Scary.
A believer in the philosophy of “one problem at a time,” he focused on his surroundings.
The interior of the cruiser was astounding. He had already marveled at the areas where various ecosystems from the Vohrn worlds had been reproduced, as well as the purely mechanical areas dedicated to energy production and the synergetic system, but this room was incredible.
Arches as thick as a human arm stretched from floor to ceiling, connected by a sort of greenish cartilage. It was like being inside one of those long-extinct earth creatures called whales.
In the center of the room, the Vohrn finished the task Hanosk had given him: removing the flooring to provide access to a section of the organic genotech vessel.
He handled a device with two ends, each shaped like a U.
Laorcq stepped forward and stared into the opening created by the alien. He saw a wide-ribbed, shiny, dark blue pipeline.
The alien descended into the narrow channel inside which the large vein ran and installed equipment on each side. Slowly he mated the two parts, which came together to grip the artery. At the top of the assembly was a circular mechanism, an iris consisting of white ceramic blades. The Vohrn reached toward a tiny control panel located nearby and pressed a button. The iris’ blades parted. Behind it was a slight shimmer indicating the presence of a force field, through which Laorcq could see the fluid carried along by the vein.
The alien then connected a kind of sleeve over the opening. It all reminded Laorcq of the flexible tubes used to connect two vessels in the vacuum of open space.
He prepared for his dive. The equipment seemed designed to serve as an airlock. The Vohrn confirmed this: this temporary ‘airlock’ made it possible to introduce maintenance drones into the cruiser’s organic components.
Because the ship’s systems were under Vassili’s control, the flesh pipeline was the only way to traverse the ship quickly enough to reach Mallory.
“I’m ready.”
The alien climbed out of the opening and gave him diving goggles. He adjusted them over his eyes, wondering in passing where the Vohrn had found such an accessory, for which they had absolutely no need.
The Vohrn stepped away, and Laorcq took his place on the disk of pure energy. Around him, the sleeve ascended gradually to become a sort of cocoon. The upper end closed and the force field vanished. A foul-smelling fluid surrounded the large balloon from the bottom, submerging the human.
Laorcq felt himself slipping into the gigantic vein and being carried by the current to his destination.
He was in for nearly four minutes of apnea, a period exceeding his personal best. He hadn’t shared this detail with Hanosk. He tried to clear his mind and remain still to preserve the oxygen stored in his lungs.
The flow carried him through the cruiser with unbelievable sluggishness. His navcom watch was programmed to rouse him from his self-induced trance at the exact spot where he would find a permanent airlock.
The first two minutes passed without difficulty. The next was harder. The fourth was almost too much.
Pushed to the limits of his abilities, he began suffering from hypoxia. By the time the navcom buzzed on his wrist, he had forgotten the meaning of the alarm and how he should respond.
Only a vague feeling of urgency pulled him from his torpor. Gradually, his mind regained the upper hand. As his faculties returned, panic almost overwhelmed him: Had he missed it?
He turned his head right and left, scanning the narrow passage through the goggles. In addition to protecting him from the smelly fluid, they allowed him to at least distinguish shapes instead of being submerged in total darkness.
He moved forward a few feet and found the stainless-steel airlock grafted directly into the huge vein. He eased his lungs by releasing a little bit of air and entered the compartment, which was about the size of an escape pod. He operated the controls and brought his feet inside just in time: the door closed behind him. The liquid bathing him ebbed away. To Laorcq, the moist atmosphere that replaced it might as well have been fresh air. He took several large gulps.
Exhausted, he lay still in the narrow cylinder, aware of every passing second but unable to move.
He heard muffled sounds, a series of impacts that came to him through both his hearing and vibrations transmitted through the cruiser’s structure.
Mallory!
His mind clearing, Laorcq crawled out of the airlock, took off the goggles, and activated the flashlight on his watch. He had emerged in a room that was identical to the one where he had descended into the vein. Giant, beetle-like drones lined one of the organic walls. Right next to these large insects, he found an antigrav handling arm.
This device projected a zero-gravity field, making it possible to pick up very heavy objects with ease. Laorcq immediately decided to take it: he hoped he would be able to use it against Vassili.
Designed for a Vohrn, the instrument resembled a steel gauntlet. He struggled to slip his hand inside, and once he managed to do so, found he could not reach all of the controls. Only the most basic features were within range of his fingers.
A new series of thumping sounds vibrated through the ground. Laorcq checked his grip on the inside of the gauntlet and rushed towards the noise. As he ran, he realized that the unpleasant smell that had been assaulting his nostrils for some time was the liquid soaking his outfit. He passed through several corridors and emerged into a large, open area. Unlike other sections of the alien ship, the room was bathed in bright light.
He approached cautiously and peeked in the doorway. Inside the huge sphere traversed by a pillar with flared ends, Mallory and Vassili were engaged in an exceptionally violent battle. Each blow would have shattered any other living being. Before Laorcq’s stunned eyes, their hand-to-hand combat threw them from one end of the spherical room to the other. Wherever they landed, they left deep marks in the maze of pipes that covered the area.
He almost cried out for Mallory’s attention, then stopped himself. The slightest distraction could give her opponent the opportunity to kill her. He saw with terror that she had suffered terrible injuries. She was paying dearly for each blow that landed.
If I try to get between them, they’ll crush me without noticing. He had to do something else. He screamed, “Vassili! The Vohrn will be here soon. Give yourself up, or they’ll cut you to pieces.”
The fight continued as if nothing had happened. Mallory had j
ust struck her opponent’s belly with a vicious blow from her knee. In retaliation, he threw her against the central pillar. Before Laorcq could say a word, they engaged each other once again.
With a gesture inside the gauntlet, he activated the antigrav field. The air began to flicker a few feet in front of him. He opened and closed his hand, seeing the flow of energy react to his movements. He now had a kind of giant claw created by combining gravity cancellation and a force field.
He entered the large sphere and prepared himself. When they separated, he would jump between them and try to stop Vassili with the gauntlet. He wouldn’t last long, but it should be enough for Mallory to capture her opponent’s ktol.
However, she still had to recognize him and give him time to explain.
Mallory floated over an abyss of pain that threatened to swallow her whole. Her anger was her only connection to her immediate environment: the sphere covered with copper pipes and her opponent. Distorted as much as amplified by the ktol, her senses transmitted pulses of perception to her, each of which contained more information than the human brain could process within a day. Light and dark, transparency and opacity lost their meaning. She could sense the hull of the cruiser through Vassili’s body and the stars beyond the mass of the ship.
She also felt her body weakening, despite the ktol’s artificial support.
Her only chance was to defeat him quickly.
She threw herself at Vassili and feinted with her right leg. She thought she had cornered him, and aimed a punch that could have pierced an armored door. He stooped to dodge and managed to grab her around the waist. He literally crushed her in his arms, and she felt her organs suffer under the pressure. She bent her knees and fell sideways, dragging him with her. They rolled together on the bottom of the sphere, coming to rest against the wide pillar in the center. Vassili’s back struck the column. The shock made him release his grip. In a movement that would have been impossible for a mere human, Mallory suddenly twisted her pelvis. Her opponent’s arms loosened a little and, pushing against the floor with a leg for support, she managed to break free. Once liberated, she sent a knee into Vassili’s abdomen.
She then jumped back, opening a gap of almost forty feet between them. Suddenly, a form intervened, preventing her from continuing the fight. From among the mass of information she was receiving, she identified the silhouette. Her first instinct was to destroy it, but she dismissed the idea: the speed at which it moved and its lack of fluidity indicated that it was an unmodified human and therefore of no importance.
She would just pass by it during the next assault.
As she was about to launch herself, something unexpected occurred.
A field of pure energy flowed from the man in front of her, surrounding and lifting Vassili off the floor. Suspended in mid-air, he was deprived of support and leverage, which neutralized his inhuman strength.
From within the hurricane of sound transmitted by her enhanced hearing, a set of strangely familiar modulations reached her.
The silhouette standing before her cried out, “Mallory! Take his ktol. Quickly, I can’t hold him for long!”
The tornado of sensations flooding Mallory’s consciousness subsided. She searched Vassili and detected the ktol he carried nestled in his belly. The artifact shone brightly, a tiny star on the red background representing the host organism.
Without knowing why the newcomer’s voice filled her with confidence, Mallory threw herself at her opponent once again. Taking advantage of Vassili’s involuntary immobility, she kicked a boot at his face. He raised his hands and parried easily, turning his foot up.
Exactly what I wanted. Emerging from her previously instinctual state, Mallory’s mind sharpened, and she began to plan her moves like a chess player rather than acting spontaneously.
Following her deflected leg, she allowed herself to be projected towards the top of the sphere. Carried by her momentum, she made a U-turn and found herself upside down, eyes briefly at the level of Vassili’s belly. A split second was enough: she stiffened her hand into a blade, which she plunged into his abdomen where the ktol was located. The movement’s speed and the inhuman strength of Vassili’s muscles broke her index and middle fingers as she reached for the artifact. She grabbed it with her still-working fingers and pulled before colliding with the top of the sphere. She struck the ceiling feet first and grabbed onto the maze of tubes with her undamaged hand. Hanging like a bat, her first instinct was to bring Vassili’s ktol to her mouth. She closed her jaws with a snap, crushing the object and spitting it out. Blood flowed from her lips while her body tried to repair the damage to her gums caused by the artifact’s needles.
She looked down. Concentrating on the form of the human who had spoken to her, she focused on his face, ignoring the other levels of perception at her disposal.
Despite the altered state induced by the ktol, she slowly associated this face with images from her memory. The gray eyes and the scar that ran from the right temple to disappear behind the skull eventually evoked a name: Laorcq.
Her memories became clearer, although she didn’t have time to explore them. The force field immobilizing Vassili vanished in a cloud of glowing dust. Freed, he hurled himself at Laorcq.
“No!” Mallory shouted, rushing at the two men with all her strength.
She arrived a split second too late. Vassili hit the scarred man in the chest. With painful clarity, she heard the sound of bones breaking. Laorcq staggered backward and collapsed. Near his heart, a cavity disfigured his chest.
Mallory looked at her friend lying among the tangle of tubes, probably dead. Sadness and anger mingled in her, and her body responded to the sudden jolt of adrenaline. In response, the ktol once again acted on her body. On her arms, the tattoos changed at an accelerated pace. Instead of veins running under the skin, they now looked like contracted muscles.
She felt the patterns become more than just drawings, ink transforming into living matter and becoming a real extension of herself. The merger of the artifact and the sensitive tattoos took an unexpected turn.
In her conscious mind, where she perceived Squish during their telepathic exchanges, she noticed an embryonic presence: the ktol lodged in her flesh. The notion that her tattoos now provided her with an advantage against Vassili became clear to her.
Mallory attacked her opponent once again. He greeted her with a fist that flew faster than sound. Just as quickly, she veered to the right and used her hands to block his wrist. He delivered a series of blows with the other arm, aiming at her ribs. Mallory felt her bones breaking. She refused to let go and, with a sudden twist, pulled Vassili into a savage hand-to-hand confrontation.
Weakened by the destruction of his ktol, he reacted more slowly, but was nevertheless still mortally dangerous. Mallory struck him with her knees and head. Finally, after almost completely circumnavigating the sphere in the fury of their combat, they found themselves strangling each other.
She let all the accumulated rage in her flow through her modified limbs and into her tattoos.
The result was astounding: the tracery of thorns on her skin began to expand, becoming muscular bulges, extending up to her shoulders and down to the tips of her fingers. She felt cracks open on the backs of her hands, and while she maintained her grip around Vassili’s neck, the brambles became substantial, thickening and adopting the texture of tree bark. With a violence that tore a cry of pain from her, they sprang from her flesh in a torrent of spikes and stems.
They flew at Vassili’s face and brutally penetrated his nose and between his lips like barbed-wire snakes, attacking his ears, and finally forcing their way through his eye sockets.
He tried to scream, but the thorny branches slithered into his mouth and throat and sank deep into his body.
In a daze, Mallory watched the brambles continue to flow from her hands and into Vassili’s skull. His attractive features became distorted by the plant fibers burrowing through all of his head’s orifices.
Des
pite the robust reinforcement provided by the ktol, his skull finally gave way under the pressure. It exploded with a wet crunch, displaying its contents before the branches reduced it to a bloody pulp.
With a last gasp, Vassili’s fingers loosened their grip around Mallory’s neck. His arms slid along the pilot’s shoulders and fell inert on each side of the headless body.
Trapped by the brambles extending from her flesh, Mallory couldn’t move. This didn’t bother her: she had finally lost consciousness.
EPILOGUE
HUNT
PROFOUND darkness followed by a red veil. Unintelligible sounds. Cold, rigid objects attached to skin. Unpleasant sensations offset by a warm and familiar presence.
Mallory gradually woke, emerging into reality from the icy ocean of her coma. Every breath felt like blades were piercing her lungs. The slightest movement tortured her muscles. She opened her eyes and saw a brown ceiling, ribbed with bulges like a skeleton.
She was still on board the Urkein’Naak, lying in a bed under a sheet, with Squish nestled against her side. Her gaze went to the left. Torg and Alrine were deep in conversation, sitting in Vohrn-shaped chairs. At the sight of her bodyguard, Mallory was flooded with relief. The brief moment of euphoria was swept away by the memory of Laorcq laying on the ground, unmoving.
Ignoring the pain, she tried to speak: “Torg. Where…”
The words stuck in her parched throat and were too quiet to be heard. She swallowed hard and tried again. “Where is Laorcq?”
This time her voice carried. Torg stood up and approached her. With surprising tenderness, he took her hand in his huge fingers. “Mallory! You weren’t supposed to wake up for days!”
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