Mech 3: The Empress Page 11

  This had turned out to be a grave error. By giving her the best, she’d trained the Empress to expect such fine meats every day. The Empress had swollen to a gargantuan mass and now spat out perfectly good supplements to her diet such as the rehydrated stews the crew had largely subsisted upon. She’d become accustomed to the flavor of human meats and constantly demanded more be brought. The fact that there was very little fresh game to be found aboard Gladius did not impress her.

  Currently, the Empress resembled a vast bladder of sprawling flesh, from which protruded a bouquet of tentacles and single, oversized food-tube. She squatted in a mass of her own expulsions, with which she’d formed a nest of putrescence that even the Parent found difficult to stomach.

  The Parent had suggested the young monarch move to a resin throne, as befit her station, but the Empress would have none of it. She relished her nest of cracked femurs, bits of clothing and hair. Originally, she’d complained about the alien stink of it all, but now the nest felt like home to her. The Parent sadly marked this down as another of her mistakes. She now accepted the obvious reality that she’d had no inkling of what she was doing when she gave birth to this demanding creature, and that raising a monarch aboard an alien ship had been an insane idea in the first place. She could only lament that her youth and inexperience as a Parent had led her down this unpleasant path. She’d dreamt of glory, of giving new life to the ancient Imperium, but she’d attempted it much too soon. In the end, she’d been saddled with the worst offspring imaginable, one that was now clearly her mistress.

  “You will stop sniveling, and provide for my comfort,” the Empress insisted. “I will tolerate no further excuses. Fresh game creatures must be found. I’m tired of week-old meats. I require pumping fluids and warm, wriggling meats. Do you not understand?”

  “Yes, my dearest. I understand perfectly. But I’m unable to comply. The food-creatures aboard this ship have become increasingly scarce. We’ve thawed and emptied out the larder of frozen creatures we found hibernating. That was the single greatest supply.”

  “But they do still exist?”

  “Yes, a small number of them are huddled within a protected area of this vessel.”

  “Break in then! I will consume them tonight!” Growing agitated with excitement, the Empress’ external lung-flaps fluttered and her tentacles set up a wet slapping chorus on the deck plates beyond her nest—which she was on the verge of out-growing.

  The Parent almost replied meekly, promising to do her best, but then a cunning thought entered her mind. Perhaps she could use her mistress’ obsession with human meats to attain certain goals.

  “There are only a few humans left alive in any case. I will do my best to procure them for you—but they will be the last.”

  “The last?” the Empress hooted softly. “I don’t like the sound of that. You must get more.”

  “There are no more sources of fresh game within the ship.”

  “Then you must reach beyond the ship. Must I think of everything?”

  “Well… There is a ship approaching us, but it will pass by soon.”

  “What? Does it have more food-creatures aboard?”

  “Almost certainly.”

  “Then we must capture them!”

  “This would be very difficult.”

  The Empress slapped her tentacles in frustration. They were growing in girth on daily basis, and now made a surprising amount of noise. “Why have you not made plans to assault this ship? How can I be cursed with such an incompetent Parent?”

  The Parent shuffled her own tentacles thoughtfully. “That might just be possible—but I would judge it unlikely.”

  “Why?” wailed the Empress.

  “Because they will be well-defended, and they are cruising by us at great speed. We’ve put all our effort into meeting your appetites—which is only as it should be, of course. But our military is not growing. We have no assets with which to reach out to passing vessels. We have not prepared boarding parties, nor invasion ships for our eventual arrival at Ignis Glace.”

  “You will build a single assault ship. You will make the attempt. I insist upon it.”

  “Your will is law,” the Parent said, feigning resignation.

  “What else can be done in the meantime to satisfy my digesters?”

  “Nothing, mistress. We must turn our servants away from hunting for fine foods. Instead, we must build up our military capabilities. This will result in a short term loss of incoming food supplies, but in the long term, it will result in an incalculably greater bounty.”

  The Empress cursed her and bemoaned her fate for some time, but at last she agreed. The Parent dared to congratulate herself on having successfully manipulated the despot into supporting her point of view. Before she could do so much as puff up her sagging organs, however, the Empress made a further demand. “I will allow myself to suffer now, in the hopes of fruitful times later. I will sacrifice my pleasures to prevent disaster. But I must have the last humans aboard this vessel. By surviving so close by, these creatures have defied the will of the Imperium. They shall not be tolerated. They can be used as breeding stock, if nothing else. You will capture them and bring them to my presence. I must have a tasting!”

  The Parent puffed her lungs sacs and released a blatting sound of defeat. Her mistress had spoken. Again, they would have to waste time and resources feeding her insatiable maw. At least, the Parent could dare hope the Empress would be forced into supporting her planned build-up of forces after this hunt—if only because there would be no humans left aboard to consume.

  #

  Garth’s eyes snapped open in a dark chamber. He was lying restfully, but he knew something was wrong. There were no wailing klaxons sounding the alarm, but his instincts were pulsing in his temples anyway.

  There was an odd smell in the room. Garth knew it well—he’d been exposed to this alien stink before. He struggled to his feet and grabbed up his clothes in the dark. He did not bother with his jacket, nor touch together the nano-adhesives to close his shirt over his bare chest. He took the time to pull on his boots, but that was all.

  He got no further than the midpoint of the room when the Tulk in his head awakened. The being that shared his skull was an old one, and tended to sleep often. But now Ornth woke up and quivered with alarm. Garth felt an instant headache as Ornth no doubt employed his spines and sent probes through their shared nervous system. He felt the Tulk reach out to take the reins of his mind.

  Garth felt his arm lifting, reaching for the pad. He had not instructed his arm to do so. It was moving under the Tulk’s control. At a single touch, Garth knew the door would swish open.

  Don’t! Garth said loudly in his own mind.

  The hand hesitated. The fingers squirm like worms baking on a sidewalk. Then it reached closer still to the touchpad.

  You will kill us, Garth thought, unable to stop his arm from moving. You will be exposed.

  The hand paused and wavered uncertainly. It was a horrible thing to be trapped within one’s own shared skull and to be unable to control one’s body. Insanity must have felt much the same, Garth had often reflected.

  Do not dare to threaten me, ungrateful creature, Ornth responded directly.

  Despite the danger, Garth smiled triumphantly with half his mouth. Ornth had taken the rare step of conversing with his mount. This in itself was an achievement among skalds.

  I offer no threat. I am imparting a warning. The enemy is near. Can you not sense them?

  The ship is full of the beasts from the stars.

  Yes, but now they are inside our sanctuary. They have broken in somehow.

  Ornth hesitated, then Garth felt his arm lifting again. I do not believe you, Ornth said.

  Fine. Open the door. Prove me right as we are devoured, watch our flesh be sucked up into the food-tubes of the ancient enemy. How they will laugh when they find you hiding inside my cracked skull!

  The hand stopped, and lowered back to Garth’s side. If we a
re not to exit this place, what can be done?

  Garth felt his crushing tension relaxing. The Tulk was listening to him. Use a communication device. Attempt to communicate with another skald in another cubicle. Do not speak, but see if the others respond. We cannot let the enemy know we are awake and breathing in this place. They will hunt us, if we do.

  Ornth did as he suggested. He touched a device near the bedside in the darkness, after first muting the system. Garth knew a tone would sound inside another chamber nearby, but he could not hear it. Ornth waited, but after six chimes, no one answered.

  Try another, Garth suggested.

  You are clouding my thoughts, and causing me undue stress.

  I’m keeping us both alive.

  Ornth used Garth’s fingers to reach out and touch a different glowing cabin number. More chimes were indicated. Garth could hear them through the wall. Ornth must be calling a nearby room.

  This time, the call was answered. A face flickered into being on the screen and both minds stared with Garth’s wide eyes. It was a female face, but not the same skald girl who had tricked Garth days ago. She looked tired and baffled.

  “What is the purpose of this communication?” she asked.

  Do not respond, Garth urged. They are listening.

  Ornth said nothing with either his mind or Garth’s lips. The skald girl peered at them, unable to see much. She lifted her hand to disconnect the device—but hesitated, turning her head to one side.

  Suddenly, a shriek came from her. It was a strange sound of surprise and desperation. The cry was human, but not entirely so, as two creatures screamed together in mortal terror.

  Her face was gone from the view of the device a moment later.

  Turn off the device! Garth urged.

  What has occurred?

  Turn off the device!

  His own squirming fingers did as he demanded. The horrible sounds could still be heard, however. They were coming through the wall from the cabin next door. The walls reverberated with a sudden booming sound, as a body thudded against it.

  We must flee! Garth urged. Walk us into the lavatory.

  Ornth did so on shaky legs. Why are we here? There is nowhere to hide.

  Garth directed the Tulk to remove a clamp and the toilet slid from its moorings. A narrow dark hole appeared. A rich odor wafted up from the pipes below.

  You suggest we attempt to slide away into the sewers?

  I maintain this vessel. The pipes will expand as they join others. If we can reach an expulsion tank, there will be a maintenance portal. That may well be how the shrade got in in the first place.

  Ornth walked out of the lavatory, while Garth shrieked in his head. You are the mad-thing, not I. You have never met them in person. I’ve been in their nests. We must flee!

  No, said Ornth firmly. We will gather weapons and drive this interloper out.

  The Tulk do not fight, they flee!

  The Tulk do battle, upon occasion.

  But why change a successful strategy now? Why not continue to avoid the enemy?

  Because there is no way off this ship, disobedient rogue. Now be silent, I’m having difficulty cogitating.

  Garth was anything but silent. He pleaded, threatened and strained to recapture the reins of his body. But his nerve endings were riddled with fresh-driven control threads. He could not force his own limbs to stop moving. He felt his hand make contact with the smooth metal touchpad. The door swished open, washing him with the bright glare of the corridor outside. Although he didn’t see any aliens crouching at his feet, Garth shrieked helplessly within his own mind.

  Quiet, fool! Ornth demanded. I can’t think!

  The being that was a hybrid of human and Tulk stepped out into the empty corridor. The room next door was quiet now—perhaps the shrade was eating its fill. Garth had to struggle to make a coherent argument with the creature that drove his body like a power-walker without his consent.

  You must see reason, Ornth, he said. At least, whatever you do, don’t open that door.

  I do not intend to listen to a rogue.

  I have faced these beings before. Allow me to be your tactical advisor.

  The Tulk hesitated uncertainly. Garth felt a growing sense of panic. They were taking a tremendous risk standing here in the hallway, staring and twitching. At any second, one of the aliens could arrive on the scene and there would be three creatures riding this single body.

  I would humbly suggest, great Ornth, that we move to a safer location, Garth said, trying make his thoughts seem as calm and reasonable as possible. His continued existence depended on it.

  I have no intention of exploring sewers. We are under attack. I must sound the alarm.

  Garth wanted to shriek again, to cry, to screech and gibber with madness. But these things would not increase his already dismal odds of survival. Instead, he controlled his thoughts as the Tulk clumsily drove him to take tottering steps toward the open saloons.

  Any audible alarm will also alert the enemy, Garth pointed out.

  I am not a fool. I will find the others and we will form barricades.

  Garth wanted to argue that the Tulk was indeed an old fool, even for one of his reclusive race. He was impressed by the bravery of this member of the Tulk, however. Fryx would have run and done anything to distance himself from danger. This being had larger ideas. Unfortunately, they were foolish ideas and likely to get both of them killed.

  The shrade will penetrate any barricade, as it managed to do when it entered this enclosed region. The critical thing now, is to stop the shrade from opening the exterior locks. It will seek to do so, and thus let in an army of its comrades.

  This line of reasoning halted Ornth in his teetering tracks. Even the arrogant Tulk mind could see the obvious logic behind Garth’s suggestion. Leaning forward, face and hands twitching, Garth was left standing there for several seconds. It was all he could do not to rave inside his head.

  Ornth jerked on the reins suddenly. They did an about-face and marched in the opposite direction. They passed the compartment where they’d awakened, then the next inside which the shrade had no doubt slain another skald. They headed toward the emergency engineering compartment at the end of the passage. There was a code lock here. Garth’s hand rose up and tapped at it. The lock quietly beeped a low tone, denying access.

  Allow me to control my hand, Garth suggested. I know all the codes.

  No, Ornth said, tell me the code, and I will type it in.

  Garth would have hissed in frustration if he could have forced his lips to make a sound. He had hoped the Tulk would allow him some level of nervous control. With good fortune, he could use this wedge to drive the rider into remission. Unfortunately, Ornth did not trust him and would not allow any sharing of muscular control.

  And if I refuse to give you the codes?

  Then, according to your own logic, we will quickly die together.

  Garth cursed the strong will of this Tulk. It was decidedly greater, and tougher, than Fryx’s had been. Fryx had been easily cowed by any threat of exposure.

  Garth gave the Tulk the code. They stepped inside, and touched various control panels and maintenance valves. With Garth’s help, Ornth managed to manually seal the exterior portal and disconnect the touchpads at the airlocks. Hopefully, this would delay the shrade and foil its plans.

  Together, they damaged the actuators so they could not easily be bypassed. Garth felt his body turn, and looking through his own eyes like an observer, he saw and felt his hand reaching for the panel.

  Wait, Garth said.

  The hand hesitated. You must cease these presumptuous interjections. It is unseemly that a mount should object to the actions of its rider.

  Naturally, Garth said, that would be the usual case. But in this instance I am acting under extreme circumstances. Our joint survival is at stake.

  You claim to respect my authority? I suspect subterfuge, as you are a known rogue.

  I have acted to survive in the pas
t and thwarted my rider’s wishes, granted. But let it be known that in the end, Fryx and I were cooperative in our endeavors. We took turns sleeping and driving this body to cross a great distance more quickly. We were symbiotic, not antagonistic once we’d realized we had identical goals.

  Disgusting. Do not dare to think such a relationship could exist between us.

  I would not dare suggest such a blasphemous perversion! Garth assured the Tulk.

  Ours shall be a traditional arrangement between rider and mount, not some coequal partnership.

  Granted. I know my place, be at ease on that point. I am not coequal, but I might be more useful to you if elevated to the status of loyal servant, rather than abject slave. As such, I could increase the odds of our survival tenfold.

  During this internal conversation, Garth’s body stood in an odd, off-balance stance, with the right shoulder hunched up higher than the other so that it pressed against the earlobe. His fingers and the toes, all twenty of them, writhed independently like the tentacles of a dying squid on the deck of a boat.

  Loyalty? Your mind dares to mention the concept? These internal whisperings we’ve been engaged in may have convinced the venerable Fryx to trust you, but not I.

  We did build trust in time, Garth insisted.

  Then Fryx must have been losing his faculties. You are one of the worst rogues in known history. You gunned down a number of skalds and exposed their riders. It is an act of sheer desperation, an unavoidable accident, which caused me to choose you to ride within. I’m coming to regret the decision more greatly with every passing moment. I will listen no further to your syrupy treacheries.