The Empress

Eleven

Garth would never have made it across the vast ship if he hadn’t had specialized knowledge of its interior. Gladius was a vast structure, originally built over a century ago on Old Earth. Few colony worlds could hope to duplicate the technologies represented here, and even if they did, they could not have built it to last as this ship had. Garth had no inkling of the design goals or manufacturing technologies used in her construction, but he had an intimacy with her interior only a man who’d spent years aboard could. It is said no man knows a building better than its architect-save for its janitor. As a case in point, Garth knew in detail how a hundred tubes kinked and twisted in the guts of this vast ship. Pathways that would have left a shrade baffled were natural to him. He used that knowledge now to guide the Tulk who drove his body down the most rarely used sub-levels and Jefferies tubes.

At long last, they reached the lifeboat pods. A new problem presented itself at that point: most of the lifeboats had been dismantled. In shock, they viewed the situation from the darkest corners through grime-coated grates.

The aliens had taken apart a dozen vessels and built one larger shape with the parts. The ship was ungainly in appearance. Equipment had been randomly welded at various points upon the hull-but not welded in the traditional sense of melted alloys. A strange organic compound was used in most cases. It was a type of intelligent glue, as far as Garth could figure out. In any case, a glaze of it covered the ship and gave it an oddly glossed finish.

They are exiting the ship! cried Ornth inside their shared head. It is as I feared. They know this vessel is doomed and plan to flee.

I’m unconvinced, Garth said.

Your opinions are ill-conceived, and undesirable.

I managed to get us to this spot unseen, did I not? How many years have you spent studying and maintaining spacecraft?

The Tulk in his head did not answer. He often sulked like this when he didn’t like the results of one of their exchanges. Garth reflected briefly on how their relationship had changed over the preceding days. They’d started off antagonistically, but then as Garth played the role of subordinate, his opinions became steadily more acceptable to his Tulk rider. Now, they bickered like two surly roommates.

It does not matter, Garth said. Whether they are fleeing or planning to use this craft to invade Ignis Glace, it represents one of the few routes of escape.

We must board her, Ornth said.

Agreed. There is a route, but it will involve discomfort. The steam tubes under the ship are probably still connected. They are used to deice the vessel when it docks from suborbital missions.

Steam vents? We will be broiled alive.

First, we must steal a spacer’s suit. Then we will probably be able to survive the tubes.

I will shut off the sensory nerves to prevent discomfort.

Thank you, Garth said, surprised the Tulk would be so considerate.

You misunderstand. I will merely withdraw my spines from the sensory connection points, so I do not have to feel what you, my substandard mount feels. You will miss nothing.

Garth thought of a dozen angry retorts, but instead said nothing. If they escaped this deadly, terrifying environment, it would all be worth it. They would stow away, and exit when the situation warranted.

At least, that was the hope.

Aldo Moreno had been in love a dozen times, perhaps more. But this time, as he awakened beside Joelle Tolbert, he knew it wasn’t love he was feeling. His mind was filled with a heady blend of lust and triumph. It was a pleasant mixture of emotions by anyone’s measure.

He barely had time to watch her sleeping face and marvel at its smooth, carefree softness before they were rudely rousted from bed. A klaxon sounded, an irritating noise at the best of times. This morning, it was head-splitting after a night of drink and sex. Aldo rolled out of bed painfully, drew his power-sword and placed his thumb on the actuator. Joelle sat up and looked at him, blinking away her dreams.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. You’re navy, what’s that alarm?”

Joelle listened for a moment. “Proximity alarm. Something is coming nearby.”

“A meteor?”

“Perhaps. You’d best brace yourself, Aldo-”

She got no further before the ship lurched, heeled over and tossed her nude body rolling across the deck. Aldo had to twitch his blade upward to avoid skewering her by accident. Supporting himself by thrusting a hand through a loop that hung for the purpose from the curved ceiling overhead, he sheathed his sword.

The ship righted itself, then violently slewed in the opposite direction. Aldo helped Joelle get to her hands and knees.

“Evasive action,” she said. “There must be something on the detectors-something close.”

“At this speed?” Aldo asked. “We’d flash right by it. Why would we make more than one course correction, in any case? Once out of the object’s path, there should be no more maneuvers required.”

Joelle looked up from the floor at him with big eyes. He saw fear there, in her face. He reached down a hand and she took it. She struggled to her knees and tried to pull on her jumpsuit at the same time.

“A missile,” she said. “It has to be a missile. Gladius — they must have fired on us as we passed by, Aldo!”

He nodded grimly, finding her logic unassailable. They made their way out into the corridor. The ship had stopped lurching now, and seemed steady. There had been no pronouncements from the bridge. No word had come from the pilot or the AI as to what was happening. That fact was as worrisome as anything else about this shocking morning. What was going on?

Aldo affixed his headset on his head and heard nothing but static. He turned to Joelle in confusion. She shook her head and tapped at her own equipment. Nothing.

The lights in the corridor flickered and died then, leaving them in darkness for several terrifying seconds. Emergency battery-powered lighting kicked in after that and the ship was lit in a lurid red.

Aldo felt a cold sensation in his belly. He drew his sword again, and this time, he thumbed it into life. It blazed brightly in his hand, rippling and crackling with kinetic energies.

Joelle, for her part, had a pistol in her hand now. Aldo signaled her to be quiet. She chewed at her lower lip and nodded in agreement. She followed him down the corridor. There were strange sounds ahead, coming from the forward compartments. Then they heard the unmistakable ripping sound of a rattler firing. Someone must have opened up the armory. Aldo raised his eyebrows at that. He hadn’t even known they had automatic weapons aboard. Sidearms, certainly, but military-grade weapons?

The firing stopped and what came next to their ears was an odd, strangled sound. Aldo moved forward quickly. The best moment to strike any enemy was while they were engaged with another combatant.

He charged around the corner and saw a shrade wrapped around Captain Stanley Knox’s neck and torso. The man’s mouth was open, but he could not scream, having no breath with which to do so. He still struggled to raise the rattler in his numb hands, but could not get them to operate. His face was a mixture of palest white and blood-red weals. Buttons popped from his uniform as the shrade squeezed harder. A crackling sound came from his chest as his ribs cracked in a rapid sequence. The small noises reminded Aldo of a big man cracking all his knuckles at once.

Aldo slashed with the sword, slicing the shrade in two. He did not stop there, however. With deft strokes, he removed the head and the tail. Disconnected from both brains, the shrade relaxed and fell off the Captain with a heavy thud. The man’s eyes stared at nothing, and his dislocated jaw was torn half-way off his face.

Joelle fired then. Aldo turned, and saw her target for the first time. Ambassador Garant raced into the room, panting and bleeding. Behind him, a moment later, a killbeast charged into the room and lifted a rifle. Joelle’s pistol caught it in the chest, and threw it backward.

The killbeast bounced right back up again onto its horn-bladed feet. It had not even dropped its rifle. Joelle fired again and again, while Aldo advanced. The killbeast returned fire from the ground, but being shot repeatedly seemed to spoil its aim.

Aldo slashed it apart until it stopped thrashing. He looked back over his shoulder. Ashen-faced, Joelle stood with her back against a steel wall. She seemed uninjured. The Ambassador, however, had not been so fortunate. Aldo realized instantly the killbeast had not missed with its final bullets, but instead had chosen to finish its original target. The Ambassador was sprawled on the floor, covered in gore that was a mix of alien and human body fluids.

Aldo check both the Captain and the Ambassador, just to be sure. He found no pulse under his probing fingertips.

Joelle’s sides heaved and she signaled Aldo they should retreat into the hall. He shook his head, and motioned her forward. He knew from experience that when fighting the Imperium warriors, one had to kill them all until the last one stopped flopping on the deck at your feet. That was the only way to end the fight in your favor.

He reached up, and pressed the manual override that opened the hatchway to the bridge section.

Garth finally convinced Ornth it was time to leave their hiding place. Far from the initial bravado he’d exhibited back when first fighting the aliens on Gladius, Ornth had increasingly shown the natural reticence of his kind. He was a warrior compared to others of his species, but he still frightened easily. After having faced death on a dozen occasions over recent days, he’d grown more skittish rather than less.

Garth understood the mood of his rider well. He was no hero himself. Self-sacrifice had never been his strong suit, and nothing had changed. Violence came to him as a means to an end: that end always being his own survival.

But sitting aboard the assault craft hoping the Skaintz would be overcome placed entirely too much faith in the humans aboard this ship. Garth felt it likely they were unaware the assault was coming. There was even a likelihood the crew of the smaller ship was unarmed. Almost certainly, they would not be prepared to repel an invasion by these deadly alien warriors.

We must act to save ourselves, Garth said inside his own head, knowing his Tulk rider was listening.

Your opinions, rogue, are not as fascinating as you seem to believe.

I beseech you to listen. I’ve fought the Skaintz on several occasions. I’ve personally killed individuals on two worlds and in space. I know something about defeating these vicious beings.

And you advise me to expose our joint person to attack? You suggest we should leave a perfectly good hiding spot on the slim hope we can affect the outcome of this battle? Madness. I do not understand how you have survived so long. Blind luck is my best theory.

Garth felt a fresh wave of frustration. The Tulk were infinitely arrogant, frequently cowardly, and always condescending. My sole goal is survival. I find leaving matters to others frequently results in an unsatisfactory outcome.

Ornth hesitated. Garth knew a moment of triumph. The simple truth of his statement must have won through to the other.

You urge me to risk everything.

Only our joint lives.

No, Ornth said. You ask me to risk much more than that.

What do you mean?

I would not expect my mount to understand. But more is at stake here than our individual lives.

I will accept your assertion. But that changes nothing. The best path is still the one most likely to result in survival, no matter why survival is important.

Another hesitation. Garth suspected he was weakening the other’s will, a feat unto itself.

Very well, we will act. But if there are suitable humans aboard this craft, I will abandon you, mount. You are most uncooperative.

Garth thought of many sarcastic remarks, but made none of them. Instead, he both thrilled and feared to feel his body rising up and painfully extricating itself from its cramped hiding place.

Aboard Aareschlucht, the situation was grim. Aldo and Joelle crept through chamber after chamber, but met only scenes of slaughter. Aboard the bridge, they found the pilot and navigator dead at their posts, but another of the enemy killbeasts was there too. Mortally wounded, it dragged itself toward them purposefully. Aldo dismembered it, so that Joelle could save her weapon’s charge.

On the lower decks they found the intruding ship itself. The aliens had not bothered to attempt docking with their craft, but had instead crashed right into the underbelly. A ram-like wedge had poked through the metal, forming a breach. Aldo examined the scene as they crept closer.

“I would have thought the ship would have lost all pressure,” he said.

“Yes,” Joelle agreed, “but see this organic material that glistens all around the intruding hull? I think it must have sealed the connection point.”

Aldo circled the angular intrusion. To him, it resembled the nose of a shark rammed up into their hull. The underbelly hull was much thinner, as it did not have to absorb passing particles. “How do you get into this thing?”

Joelle cast him an alarmed look. “Get into it? Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“We must finish what we’ve started-before they do.”

Aldo walked up to the breach. Gray vapors smoked from the site, spiraling upward. “I think I see a portal of sorts, here in the side of it. But I have no idea how to open it.”

“Then we should wait until they come out,” Joelle said in a whisper. “The moment they do, we will ambush them.”

Aldo pursed his lips and shook his head. He had no intention of allowing the enemy to determine the moment of their next conflict. As a duelist, he had strict tactical policies in these matters. When one had an advantage in mortal combat, it had to be pressed home, not fritted away waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Experimentally, he thumbed his sword up to the highest power setting and thrust it into the portal mechanism. There was a brilliant flare of light and a sizzling sound, but the most alarming reaction came from the slimes that glistened over the hull, sealing it so the cold vacuum outside could not seep within either ship. The material bubbled and churned as if it were alive and in pain. Some of it turned brown, as might a slurry of melted sugar as it burned. The mass slid away from the blade, leaving a rime of burnt material behind.

“It’s hard metal,” Aldo said, grunting as he worked the tip gently deeper. He did not wish to break his sword, but he applied as much thrust as he dared. The weapon vibrated in his hand, and he put a second palm on the hilt.

“Is this wise, Aldo?”

“Probably not,” he admitted, “but we must take action while we are able.”

Suddenly, the portal gave way and groaned inward. He almost lost his sword and his balance, but being athletically inclined, he managed to spring backward and take the sword with him. He looked at the dark opening, puzzled. The mechanism must have shorted out and yawned open-either that, or…

Something rose up from the opening. It was an alien, but not like any they’d seen before. It was certainly not a killbeast, nor was it a shrade. It was vaguely humanoid in configuration, but had a beard of fine tentacles circling the lower portion of its head, and it had a weapon in its tentacled hand.

Aldo and Joelle were taken by surprise. Cursing, Aldo struggled to his feet. Joelle lifted her pistol. The creature aimed its weapon, and somehow managed to utter a word. The word came not from the creature itself, but rather from a mouth that appeared to have been grown on its abdomen. The mouth resembled a shellfish, or some other bizarre thing one might expect to meet at the bottom of a strange, dark ocean.

“Ssurrender,” the mouth said.

Aldo and Joelle froze, knowing the alien had the drop on them. They did not lower their weapons, but they did not lift them, either. Could this thing be attempting to capture them? Aldo was uncertain as to the best course of action. If they attacked, one of them might survive. But if they at least pretended to surrender-he didn’t know how that would turn out.

The moment was an odd one, and the situation might have turned deadly in a dozen different ways, but the final result was quite unexpected. The alien’s head exploded.

As the corpse sagged down, the gun in its hand fired once reflexively. A bolt spanged off the walls around them, making Joelle and Aldo crouch. They raised their eyes and their weapons again, but what rose up next from the breach was quite a different surprise.

It was a man-after a fashion. Thin, with pale features and a twitching face, the stranger carried what appeared to be a hammer in his hand. The hammer was shivering, and Aldo was uncertain if the vibration was caused by the tool or the odd being that held it.

Joelle took a step forward and aimed her pistol at the stranger.

“Freeze right there, or you are dead where you stand,” she said.

The man paid her no heed. Instead, he crawled over the gory corpse into the hold of the ship.

“I don’t like this,” Joelle said. “There’s something wrong with him.”

She raised her weapon toward the stranger who seemed to understand he was being threatened for the first time. A series of unusual emotions ran across his face. It was not unlike watching someone undergoing a seizure. The nose wrinkled up as if smelling a sharp new stink. The lips curled from the teeth in a flaring grin. The eyes widened impossibly, then closed to slits and widened again in turns.

Aldo reached out with a single finger and tipped up Joelle’s gun. She fired, but the shot went high. She glared at him in disbelief. “Look at him! He’s a mad-thing. We can’t allow him aboard the ship. The aliens have taken his mind.”

“Yes,” said Aldo thoughtfully, “he exhibits madness. But he struck down an enemy to our benefit. More importantly, I think I recognize him. He’s not possessed by invading aliens-not exactly.”

Joelle peered more closely at Garth. “You’re right. I’ve seen him in the vids-the ones from Garm.” She stepped toward the writhing man. As she did so, Garth’s grav-hammer twitched upward. Aldo pulled her back.

“Garth? I believe that was the name,” Aldo said. “Is that you in there, sir? Are you the mad skald who fled Garm long years ago?”

The stranger’s lips trembled and the left half of his mouth spasmed as he forced words out. “I am not Garth. I am Ornth. I ride Garth. I have taken his reins.”

“I see,” Aldo said, nodding. “You are an alien invader, but possibly a friendly one.”

“Your description is insulting.”

Aldo laughed quietly. “Touchy, and arrogant as well. You will make a fine companion on this long journey.”

“It will be a short trip if we’ve not expunged every vestige of the Skaintz on this vessel.”

“Agreed,” Aldo said with a sweeping gesture. “Welcome aboard, and let us formally declare our alliance to defeat the-as you call them- Skaintz.”

Again, the lips writhed and the eyes stared sidelong. Finally, one corner of the stranger’s mouth ejected a single hissing word: “Agreed.”

Together, they mounted a search, but found nothing left alive aboard Aareschlucht save for themselves. The aliens had very nearly been successful. Joelle continuously cast uneasy glances at Garth, and Aldo didn’t blame her. Was he going to be completely trustworthy? Aldo has his doubts. The coming months of deceleration would clarify matters.

“One thing puzzles me Garth-ah, Ornth,” Joelle said. “When we met you, the alien from the invading ship did not fire on us immediately. Why did it hesitate?”

“I believe they were under orders to bring back live prey-you two, specifically. A breeding pair would be most prized.”

“Take us back to Gladius? Why?”

“As livestock for consumption. The Skaintz will eat almost anything, but they crave living meats and they are always ravenous.”

Joelle nodded, but did not speak. She shuddered as Aldo watched her. Doubtlessly, she was contemplating the fate they’d avoided.

Aldo found himself wanting to get off this cursed ship more than ever.