Mech 3: The Empress (26 page)

Do you have the slightest idea where you are going?
Garth demanded.
We should go back to the hotel they offered us. We could bathe and eat there for free. Why are we leaving the area? We will become homeless vagabonds.

Silence, mount.

You have no idea what you’re doing, do you? We know nothing of this world. If we wander too far, we will be mistreated. You risk exposure by this illogical—

If you do not quiet, you will not be fed,
Ornth threatened.

Ha! Then you will starve as well, companion!

Twitching and snarling with half his mouth, Ornth and Garth stumbled and muttered down one city street to another, seeking the exit from this place. At last, they reached a high wall of sheer sandstone. It loomed overhead, rising hundreds of feet to the distant sky.

Ornth turned the skald’s head upward and gaped with wide eyes at the unscalable cliff that blocked his path.

Fool!
Garth crowed.
We’re in a deep valley, a cleft between vast cliffs of stone. We can’t simply walk out of here. Let’s return to the hotel. I’m hungry and tired of walking.

No,
Ornth insisted.
We must reach the open regions of this world.

What for?

I must see the stars, measure the winds, and determine our course.

Garth wailed inside his own head, making Ornth wince with half of Garth’s face.

You are the mad-thing,
Garth complained.
You have no course, no goal, no hope.

Ornth took a long shoot of wood from the ground near the cobbled streets. It was a stake of some kind. Earth dribbled from the tip of it, which was discolored with moisture. Ornth selected a spot on his left arm, a region of little importance, and lifted the stake high with his right.

What are you doing?

Applying discipline,
Ornth said, then he stabbed Garth’s arm with the wooden stake. Blood flowed.

Garth howled within his own mind.
Mad-thing, mad-thing!
He wailed.

Ornth lifted the stake again. Around him, he was oblivious to the passersby that twittered and gawked at the very strange individual in their midst.

I will plunge this stake into your appendage repeatedly. I will not experience discomfort, as I’ve blocked those receptors.

But why?

You must remain quiet, or you will be disciplined further. Do you acquiesce?

There was a moment’s hesitation.
Yes,
Garth said finally.
If you will give me some hint of our goal.

I must find something lost. I must remember what is forgotten. I must wander until direction appears to me.

That’s it?

Ornth raised the stake again.

I will be quiet,
Garth said quickly.

Satisfied, Ornth turned his glum mount around and headed toward the cobbled main streets again. He did not turn toward the hotel, however. He followed the main street relentlessly down the length of the city, until the path began to rise under his feet as it headed uphill. Eventually, the skald fell asleep from exhaustion.

Still, Ornth drove his mount uphill. Eventually, the sandals created bleeding lines where straps rubbed too long at the skald’s stressed hide. The bottom of his tough feet did not blister, however. A skald’s feet were those of a pilgrim, and were said to be as thick as folded leather.

By the time Garth reawakened and despaired inside his own head, Ornth had reached the wilderness he craved. One half of the skald’s face curved upward in a self-satisfied smile, while the other half remained twisted in grief.

#

The Parent’s ovipositors were aching. Her birth tracts had swollen to twice the size they’d been a month ago, and she was certain the left hind sac was going to prolapse when it finally managed to release the next jugger.

That was the problem: the juggers. She’d produced an endless parade of trachs and juggers—she’d given birth to an army of them. As the two largest of the myriad possible offspring, the Empress had specified that they all be
produced by the oldest and most despised of her Parents. The smaller, easier offspring such as hests, arls, culus-shrade teams and the like, those choice assignments went to her four younger daughters.

These four coveted princesses still had the gall to complain, that was the worst of it. Their dainty bodies were a fraction of the expanse of their bloated mother’s carcass. The Parent could scarcely move any longer, and her discomfort put her into a permanently foul mood.

One day, less than a month before planetfall, the nife that had impregnated her swaggered back into her presence. “Oh my,” he said upon sweeping his orbs over her grotesque form.

She waved a tentacle at him irritably. “What do you want?”

“Juggers did this?” he asked, circling around her body and examining her from all angles.

“Of course! I’m birthing all the juggers,” the Parent snapped.

The nife, thinking her helpless upon her birthing throne, circled her and dared to approach her from behind. She was ready for that, and slapped him away with a hard, sudden blow. He was sent tumbling across the floor.

He crawled back to his feet. “There was no call for that.”

“You are a rude thing.”

“It would be best for you to remain in my good graces. I could tell the Empress of our bargain. She would space you in an instant.”

“In that case, we shall be spaced together, because she will hear your part in the deal as well.”

Sullenly, the nife paced in front of her—keeping a safe distance. “We’ve got enough juggers now, you can stop seeding them.”

The Parent almost swooned in relief. “What shall I make, then?”

“Trachs, I should think. We need more fighters, and trachs can assemble them from salvaged parts here in the ship.”

“Just trachs?” asked the Parent. “What about hests for the technical work, and arls to pilots?”

The nife shrugged. “Those tasks have already been assigned.”

The Parent made blatting noise in his direction, fluting with her foodtube. “By that, I assume you mean my daughters were given the easiest work. What is it that the Empress has against me? She has never mistreated others so thoroughly to my knowledge.”

The nife appeared surprised. His cusps snapped wide, and then retreated. “You mean you don’t understand the situation?”

“I have said as much.”

“The answer would seem obvious to me. She doesn’t like you because you challenge the absolute nature of her dominance. As her progenitor, you have a certain natural authority over her. What monarch enjoys being reminded of a time when they did not exist, when they did not rule? What despot has ever happily endured the advice of an elder?”

The Parent ruffled her tentacles in thought. “I’d hadn’t thought of that. You think it is simple jealousy?”

“Not exactly. It goes much deeper. You are an embarrassment. A physical admission that she is not omnipotent. She belittles you to make the past inconsequential.”

“I understand,” The Parent said, “but as I can see no way to remedy the matter, I suppose I must continue to endure.”

“Naturally. What other course could there be?”

The Parent thought about the situation carefully while the nife prattled on about rosters of troops, tactical groups of spacecraft and the like. He had given her an idea. She probably would never have had the idea come to her if she’d been in the Empress’ presence of late. The compulsion toward obedience would have been too strong then.

As an idea took root and began to grow in her mind, she wondered at its origination. Perhaps, the seeds had been planted in her previous interactions with the nife. Together, they had successfully manipulated the Empress and prevented the Parent’s execution. She now found that she wished to continue her existence in this universe, and further, to improve her station within it.

Her genetic compulsions were too strong to consider open rebellion, of course. Such ideas were impossible for any of her kind. The ‘self’ was always subservient to the Imperium as a whole.

But perhaps there
was
a way. In her successful scheme with the nife, she had circumvented the will of the Empress with the excuse they must do so for the good of the Imperium. The stakes in this assault were extraordinarily high. This was not a typical planetary assault. In the distant past a thousand invasion ships had glided in the black void between every planet in the Faustian Chain.

No, this wasn’t a routine mission. This was a crucial campaign. If they failed, the entirety of their species might well be snuffed out. Didn’t these undeniable facts constitute special circumstances, and thus allow unusual actions? If the Empress were a negative factor in the calculations—a factor that worked to bring about failure, rather than improving the odds of success—would that not give the Parent the right to thwart her will?

The right to do what, exactly?
the Parent asked herself.

Not to assassinate her Empress, certainly. But there were ways. There were always ways…

#

After a few days of enjoying the company of Nina Droad, Aldo was contacted by Joelle Tolbert One-day morning. He cleared his throat and stretched when he activated the link with a brush of his hand. He did not open the vid channel, as Nina lay stretched out and bare beside him.

“Aldo? Do you know what time it is?”

“Humph,” he said, yawning. “I suppose it is time to go visit the Nexus headquarters and deliver our warning.”

“It is an hour past. I’m surprised you are still in bed.”

“I suppose I’ve slid into the leisurely ways of this world.”

“Well, slide out of them,” Joelle snapped. “Meet me in the lobby immediately.”

The connection broke off. Aldo made a sour face, but the expression turned into a smile as he surveyed Nina, who was curled into a nude ball on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open as if sensing his attention.

“Was that the officer woman from the ship?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“She spoke with you in a very familiar fashion.”

“I thought you were asleep,” Aldo said. He hoped to cut off her next question, which would undoubtedly be another probe into the nature of his relationship with Joelle Tolbert. In his experience, women always wanted to maintain an internal pretense that they were the first sexual partner in a man’s life—even though the facts were self-evident. In Aldo’s case, where the list was alarmingly long, he felt it was a topic best avoided entirely.

“I need to be going,” he said.

“Will you come back to the hotel?”

“If the situation warrants.”

Nina frowned at him. She pulled the sheets up to cover her shapely form. “Have I bored you already?”

“Not at all, milady!” he said. He came to her and swept her hand up to brush it with his lips. “But I have a mission to perform. I daresay you do as well. Perhaps, after this business of war is settled, we can rekindle.”

Nina cocked her head and eyed him thoughtfully. At last, she smiled. “Perhaps,” she said.

Five minutes later, Aldo stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. His black hair shone with the quick lashing of wet fingers he’d given it to flatten it into place. He’d barely taken the time to dress himself, but his sword was strapped to his side, as always.

Joelle met him with hooded eyes and led the way to an egg-shaped cab she’d hired. They climbed aboard and were whisked away through the bustling streets of Lavender City to the Nexus spaceport.

There, in the central building, they found the entrance again. This time, however, it was choked with citizens. All of them held small devices bearing contracts and tapped-out identification biometrics. They were here to pay taxes, apply for permits and even to buy passports.

“What a long line,” Joelle breathed. “We should have come hours earlier, as the guard suggested.”

Aldo made a grunting sound and strode past the throng without so much as a glance in their direction. When he reached the front of the line, he found the security man they’d met two days earlier. He still squatted in his chair, checking IDs as people shuffled dispiritedly by.

“Here, here,” said the guard, “you have to step back into line, sir.”

“I’ve had quite enough of lines,” Aldo said. “This is a diplomatic passport and I’m engaged in Nexus business. Kindly stand aside.”

“I’ll have to contact my supervisor.”

“You do that. Come, Lieutenant Tolbert.”

He stepped past the security man, and slid among the patrons. “Excuse me, make way! Thank you.”

In his wake, an embarrassed Lieutenant Tolbert followed, making apologies as they stepped upon feet and bumped into people. Very quickly, they reached another roadblock. This came in the form of a long line of desks behind a force-screen. At each desk sat an AI bureaucrat with a camera aimed at the patron. The force-screens were set to allow speech, but they blocked enough vibration to require shouting by both parties.

“Another line?” Joelle asked in exasperation.

“This way,” Aldo said, touching her arm and pointing to a small, unmarked side door. They stepped to it, and Aldo tried his ID on the lock without success. “Try yours,” he said.

“Don’t you think we should go through protocols, Aldo?” she asked in a whisper. “If we are to be taken for diplomatic officials, and we should at least behave…diplomatically.”

“Nonsense. Give me your ID if you won’t do it.”

She handed it over reluctantly. Aldo applied it to the lock, and it booped at them. Several patrons were watching them curiously now, and a fair number of the bureaucrats were craning their cameras and examining them from behind their force screens as well.

“Apply your thumb here,” Aldo said.

Joelle did as he asked, and the door opened. They stepped inside and closed it behind them.

A long dark corridor led to another, larger corridor. They reached a quieter area filled with rich vermillion carpets, and at last Aldo smiled. “This will be the place.”