Lords of the Seventh Swarm

Chapter 33

Abroad the dronon starship Acquiescence, Thomas stood thoughtfully gazing down onto the bridge.

The dronon starship seemed unthinkable by human standards: the deck, though clean, was much like the birthing chamber on one of the great walking hive ships. A bevy of dronon technicians clung to the sides of the dome-shaped walls like insects.

The technicians, with their twisted vestigial wings, their tan bodies and strange green facial tatoos, reminded Thomas of mantises, waiting to strike. Yet the technicians had no prey but the monitors and various switches they guarded.

Higher on the walls, in a great circle, were viewscreens that displayed images from on planet. Dronon hunting teams showed their Lords images captured as warships swept through a strange alien jungle, beneath a terrible storm.

The ships were diving into the woods, lights blazing through a nearly impenetrable gloom of foliage and mist, flying thousands of meters down into this vast and bizarre wood.

From here aboard the Acquiescence, the dronon would coordinate the work of the thirty-six hunting teams. Thomas watched the spectacle of the pursuit in horrid fascination.

Lord Karthenor had retrieved several people from the surface of Ruin-the dictator Felph and his two beautiful daughters. Karthenor spoke to Felph as if he were a “guest,” enjoying dronon hospitality, but Thomas knew Felph and his daughters were hostages. If they lied about Maggie’s whereabouts, if they tried to deceive the dronon, they’d pay dearly.

But Felph, a young man with glittering eyes that said he knew far more than a young man should, aided the dronon to the best of his abilities.

Thomas didn’t know whether to pity Felph, or to hate him. With his Guide on, Thomas could only stare, bearing silent witness to his treachery.

Karthenor said to Felph, in discussing the dronon invasion, “This is a rather unprecedented move of solidarity. to fly all the hive ships of the Golden Queens here in unison. But the dronon see the wisdom of combining their strength. Once they conquer mankind, they’ll share human technology equally. With both our species working together, we will begin a new era of prosperity.”

Felph looked out through the central viewport near the ceiling, where Ruin seemed to float above their heads, a ball of red sand blotched with hazy purple seas. Hundreds of brilliant objects floated around the planet, but Thomas could see they weren’t stars-they were dronon warships, along with technical support crews.

Nearby several technical support crews had already begun creating a passive ring of black metal in space, a new gate that would let the dronon fly their ships back to their ships back to their own home worlds once they’d found Gallen and Maggie.

“Marvelous, marvelous.” Felph mouthed the words without enthusiasm as he studied the construction of this massive Gate to All Worlds. “But I have to wonder, Lord Karthenor. Wouldn’t the golden age you speak of be just as grand if humans stood at the helm? What if we took control, discovered the secrets of dronon technology?”

Karthenor studied Felph with an appreciative smile. “The Tharrin would never do that,” Karthenor said. “The notion of dominating another species would offend their principles.”

Felph shrugged. “Well, the Tharrin aren’t human, are they? I ask you again, what if humans took control?”

Karthenor stared down at Cintkin and Kintiniklintit, Lords of the Seventh Swarm. In the center of the dome, the Golden Queen lay in a huge pit, her bloated body filling a remarkable portion of the room. Hundreds of small, white worker dronon scurried around her, constantly feeding her some obnoxious milk, or grooming her body by cleansing it with their mandibles, or hauling off the sickly yellow eggs that dropped from her egg sac every two minutes.

The sheer number of dronon in the room invited a sense of claustrophobia. Yet more intimidating than all this was Kintiniklintit himself, the Lord Escort who stood at the queen’s side, receiving his own ministrations from fawning attendants. Dozens of Vanquishers surrounded him, enormous, deadly creatures with their black carapaces. Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies.

Lord Kintiniklintit dwarfed all his counterparts.

Karthenor nodded toward Kintiniklintit, considering Felph’s treasonous attitude. “Marvelous specimen, isn’t he? He’s one of the first dronon Lords who has been modified through genetic manipulation. He outweighs his rivals by sixty percent. Most of his exoskeleton has been reinforced, so he can withstand greater damage in the arena. I believe if he wanted to, he could seize control of the whole dronon empire. But he’s biding his time, wisely I might add. He’s a young Vanquisher, and is studying the battle techniques of his enemies.”

That was all Karthenor said, but the implied message was this: we can’t conquer the dronon unless a human can survive in the arena with this monster. I’m backing Kintiniklintit.

Felph.did not answer. He just eyed Kintiniklintit with an amused twinkle in his eye. “We share an unhealthy fondness for eugenics, I see.” Felph glanced at Karthenor.

“You’ve met my beautiful daughters. When you find Gallen and Maggie, you’ll meet my son, Zeus. I hope you find him admirable. Sometimes, there is more to a man than meets the eye.”

Thomas heard the threat under those words: don’t back Kintiniklintit until you know the competition.

Lord Karthenor smiled affably. “A son? You have a son?” he waved expansively at Kintiniklintit. “Then we both have sons, for though he was born to the Lords of the Sixth Swarm, Kintiniklintit is as much my son as his father’s.” Thomas was stunned by the admission. “So, our sons will do battle. How amusing.”

“Fortuitous,” Felph said, “I hope.”

“Amusing, whatever the outcome,” Karthenor said. As if to change to a safer topic, he added, “It’s odd, don’t you think, that a species as advanced as the dronon never considered the benefits of genetics till they met man? You’d think any self-aware species would instantly recognize the benefits of genetic manipulation-to cure disease, improve intelligence. But the dronon never saw it as anything more than a curiosity.

“You see, they knew what to do with those who were deformed or sickly. They killed them. Threw them away.”

“The result is that for millions of years, the dronon have been almost free from genetically transmitted ailments. So they never considered the possibility of improving themselves …”

Karthenor waited for Felph to respond. Clearly he wanted to know what “improvements” Lord Felph had made to Zeus. There was a dangerous glimmer in Karthenor’s eyes, a stern tightness about his mouth. If Thomas weren’t wearing a Guide, he’d have warned Felph of the dangers of revealing too much.

Perhaps Lord Felph was smarter than Thomas credited. With a grin, he simply said, “Hmmm … interesting.”

Around the room, a rhythmic, pounding hum reverberated as dronon technicians kept up constant chatter. But suddenly Kintinrklintit began loudly clacking his mouthfingers over his voicedrum; the other dronon quieted.

Karthenor seemed to have no difficulty understanding the dronon’s words. “Ah, it looks as if you have steered us correctly, Felph. For that, I thank you. The dronon located the ship precisely where you said it would be.”

The central screen, which took up nearly a third of one wall, displayed a three-dimensional image of a glowing blue spaceship buried deep beneath the tangle.

“I suspected he’d be there,” Felph said. “I had some work for Gallen in this region.”

“Work?” Karthenor asked.

“Searching for ancient ruins. The natives on this world once stood or, the verge of creating technology. It’s rumored that an ancient city lies there somewhere, but it’s the devil to get to-local predators, you know.”

“Hmmm.” Karthenor shrugged, uninterested in the matter.

Dronon technicians in one sector of the dome suddenly began humming loudly, and Karthenor spun on his heels, watching the monitors they tended. The dronon cleared away from several screens. Klaxons began screaming a warning in the distance, while brilliant blue lights flashed along the floor of the dome.

In space, all around the planet, dronon battleships suddenly began to dive landward. Felph wrung his hands nervously and shouted, “What’s happening? Where are they all going?”

Karthenor studied the ships, his dark eyes darting from monitor to monitor. “The other Swarm Lords know we’ve found Maggie’s ship, and they’re trying to get to her first. They’re sending in Vanquishers-their own search parties.”

Thomas almost grinned. So his niece was a treasure, and all the dronon were going to fight for her, fight for the chance to challenge Gallen O’Day.

Karthenor waved to a screen at the far right. “See, the Lords of the Fourth Swarm are sending down six full Flights-over forty-six thousand Vanquishers. I should have. anticipated this!” he grumbled. “With thousands of worlds at stake, the opportunity to loot mankind’s technology, I should have known!”

As the Lords of the Fourth Swarm launched six battleships toward the planet, the others were forced to deploy their own troops in ever-greater numbers. Sixty thousand Vanquishers from first swarm, ninety from second.

Within minutes, over half a million Vanquishers departed for Ruin. Thomas wished he could talk, at least enough to hurl a curse at the dronon. He hoped the Vanquishers would do more than merely race toward Gallen and Maggie. He hoped they would fight over their prey. At least that way, if Gallen and Maggie died, some dronon would be lost, too.

Thomas could think of nothing to do-no way to help his niece, but to pray silently. “Hide, Maggie. Hide!”