Mech 3: The Empress (32 page)

The last Parent, the one that had been shunned for so long, the progenitor of them all, finally dragged her bloated carcass into the room. Her daughters fell to privately radioed whispers and audible blats of surprise at her pathetic appearance.

The Parent heaved herself closer, and looked for the throne she was supposed to mount. There was none.

“Excuse me, Empress,” she said.

The Empress made a liquid sound of disgust, then turned her attention to the new arrival. “You are late.”

“My apologies— I was not told of the affair until just now.”

“There is no excuse for tardiness.”

“Ah, of course not, Great One. But I was wondering where my throne might be?”

The Empress made a great show of swinging her many orbs around the chamber. “Why, it appears to have been forgotten. I suppose you must squat there on the deck. There’s nothing for it now. The battle is about to commence.”

“I see,” the Parent said. She collected herself with as much dignity as she could. She tucked her tentacles under her swollen birth chambers so they would not spread and splay quite so broadly on the flat deck. Internally, she burned with fury and embarrassment. Here she was, the birthmother of the entire flock, and they dared treat her like a moronic trach.

Nearby, the younger Parents on their thrones twittered amongst themselves, amused by her embarrassment. How was it her own daughters had been twisted from her so easily? The Parent fought to control herself and thus prevent an outburst that might result in an immediate spacing. Perhaps that was the Empress’ plan…if so, she’d not give her the pleasure. The Parent wished to witness the glory of this moment, her life-long goal, as much as anyone else present.

The Imperium assault, when it began at long last, was poetry in motion. The lead nife commander had prepared for months, and his inborn knowledge of Imperial tactics was razor-sharp. Long before the enemy ships reached firing range, he ordered his fighters to launch and intercept. More than a hundred sleek, needle-shaped vessels streaked out from
Gladius’
outlying nodules, many of which had been modified into launch bays during the long journey out from Neu Schweitz.

The nife paraded in front of the Parents and the Empress, all of whom dwarfed him. This was his day of triumph, and his stalks were fully extended in his excitement. “Truly, ladies, this is the hour of Imperial glory we’ve all awaited. Let us all take a moment to contemplate—”

“Get on with it,” the Empress interrupted. “Show us the battle display.”

With a crestfallen glance in her direction, the nife quickly tapped at the nubs and tips of a control nodule that resembled an upside down jellyfish. They were all offered a channel link, which the Parent quickly accepted.

Their minds were immediately linked to the external organic sensors on
Gladius’
hull, and to the incoming data from the fighters themselves. They were thus able to experience the optical and auditory input of the Skaintz in the battle without actually being present. It was like human video and audio reproduction—but infinitely superior.

The nife’s voice played over the images and sounds they were receiving like the input of an announcer. “You see here, the enemy ships are converging on our position. We are unable to alter our course, so they will intercept us within a few hours. This is an attack we cannot prevent. However, before the enemy reach us, they will have to deal with our defensive fighters.”

Now, their point of view shifted to the fighters themselves, switching from one intense arl pilot, working the controls of his hybrid-organic ship, to another. There were dozens of pilots, and they all had in their sights an enemy human patrol boat. There were three fighters targeting every enemy ship, oftentimes four. The Parent felt a gush of pleasure-inducing chemicals in her brain. The humans were about to be wiped out.

To their credit, the enemy did not waver in their attack. They must have been able to see the oncoming onslaught, and realized their doom was at hand. But they did not turn away nor decelerate. They pressed onward, apparently as eager for battle as the Skaintz themselves. The Parent felt a quiver of emotion. Defeating an enemy that struggled vigorously was an infinitely superior experience when compared to the running down of bleating cowards.

They did not have long to wait. The first laser bolts were fired rather earlier than expected. The Parent felt a moment of qualm when she realized her own ships were not firing. They were, in fact, engaging in evasive action. At this great range, the laser bolts took several seconds to reach their destinations. By randomly adjusting position—swerving from side-to-side, up and down, the firing ship must guess where the enemy might be when the laser bolt reached the target distance.

“Why aren’t our ships firing?” the Parent demanded.

“Yes, order them to fire at once,” the Empress said irritably. “I’ve waited long enough to see the enemy perish.”

“Uh—” the nife said, touching various nubs and tips in rapid succession. The point of view switched rapidly from one sleek fighter cockpit to the next. None of them were firing. “There seems to be a small difficulty.”

“A problem?” boomed the Empress. “I do not like problems, and I do not like being kept waiting. Order our fighters to fire at once—what was that?”

A flash had impinged on all their remote senses. Then, a moment later, a second flash.

“We are taking incoming fire,” the Parent said dully.

“Is this true?” the Empress demanded.

“Yes,” said the nife, “you see, we are not yet within effective range—”

The Empress slapped her central tentacle then, and the vibration from the impact made everyone’s skin tingle. “I’ll not have this incompetence. I’m not the fool you may believe, nife whelpling. You did not design our craft properly.”

Two more flashes ensued. Five had been destroyed, and still the Imperium craft did not return fire. How long before they were all wiped out? At this rate, the Parent did a quick calculation. The enemy was destroying a fighter every thirty seconds or so. The whole force would be wiped out in under an hour.

“The enemy do seem to have greater range than I had anticipated,” the nife whined. “My estimates were based upon previously encountered ships of this class. But we will be in range soon.”

“How soon?”

“About…ten minutes.”

“Order the fighters to increase their acceleration.”

“But, Empress—they will not be able to return to this ship before we make planetfall—they’ll be too far out, going too fast to turn around in time.”

The Empress made a bass noise of disgust. She paused, thinking. The Parent did not envy her choices. More flashes continued during this interval, and the Parent perceived they were coming with greater frequency. The enemy was getting closer, and becoming increasingly accurate.

“Do it anyway,” she said at last. “We must destroy their fleet. They must not be allowed to endanger my person.”

“Calculating the growing rate of losses—yes, I now agree, Empress.”

“One does not
agree
with an Imperial order. One obeys it.”

The nife was strutting again. He seemed to recover incredibly quickly from any setback. The Parent marveled at his unquenchable bravado.

“Ladies,” he said. “Our fleet will meet the enemy on full burn. The battle will be short and vicious. I’d hoped to spare a few of them, disabling their ships and capturing a few fresh food-creatures. Alas, we must destroy them all in the cold void.”

The Empress made a sound of disappointment at hearing this. But she did not countermand the order. The enemy was far too close.

At last, the humans were within effective range. The imperial fighters began firing back with deadly accuracy. When the first hit was confirmed, everyone slapped and flapped excitedly.

Laser bolts flashed out into the dark, answered by return fire. Each side was at a range so great they could not hope to actually see their enemy. But the results were deadly all the same. Before it was over, the Imperium fighters had been reduced to twenty-six effectives. The enemy was utterly destroyed, a series of silent, floating hulks of metal and frozen blood.

Everyone in the Empress’ chamber set up a great hullabaloo. There was now nothing between them and the target world. No defenders could stop them. They were going to make planetfall with their invasion ships, and commence a most gleeful slaughter. The Empress in particular began to describe to the others the choice meats they would sample, and everyone slavered at the prospect of live food.

Alone among them, the Parent worried. She thought about the skalds in their enclosure, and the Tulk they’d discovered in their skulls after vivisecting them. She thought about the enemy tactics, which had almost succeeded in overcoming their defensive fighters. These humans were full of nasty surprises.

#

As they fled deeper into Nightside, Sixty-Two decided to follow Garth’s advice and head for a region known as ‘The First Deep’. It was essentially a gigantic sinkhole that wound down into the planetary crust. The rim of this region wasn’t a cliff, but rather a stair-like series of jumbled rocks. From the depths of the hole steam and other vapors rose from geothermal vents. This sounded promising as cover. If the Twilighters were looking for them from the sky, they could be tracked via their heatsinks, which would glow brightly for any thermal-sensitive cameras. The hot vapors would obscure these telltale signatures from the sky.

As they reached the rim of the upper vents, Sixty-Two saw the billowing heat roiling up like a dark pillar that propped up the stars. He suspected the skald had led them here for the warmth, if nothing else. The place would increase the man’s odds of survival as well. It was not important, however. As long as the humans lost their trail, that was good enough.

“Steam, where there should only be ice,” the skald said aloud from Lizett’s back. He was standing high now, fully exposed. The air had warmed considerably, and he was taking full advantage of it.

“This is the spot?”

Ornth shook Garth’s head slowly. “Farther. We must find the source of the anomaly. Standing on the rim gazing in wonder is insufficient.”

Sixty-Two swung his orbs downward, doubtfully staring into the jumble of steam-slicked, fallen stones. His feet were metal, but he did not relish sliding down into the darkness on those wet rocks. Every surface appeared treacherous, whether it was frosted with a glaze of ice or dark and shining with hot liquid.

“I think if we circle the vent, we’ll do fine,” he said. “This is an excellent place to avoid our pursuers. I commend you for thinking of it, Ornth.”

The skalds burning eyes turned to him, as if seeing him for the first time. “What? You must proceed! I have come so far. Lightyears and thousands of miles on foot.”

“For this? You must explain yourself or I will not step another inch closer to that hole.”

“This is the anomaly!” Ornth said, becoming excitable. “Can you not see with those optics?”

“What anomaly?”

“That which cannot be, but is. That which can’t be found, because it is plainly visible.”

Sixty-Two clacked his grippers in irritation. Always it was like this with the skald, or the Tulk, or whatever he called himself. There were no clear answers, nothing useful. Sixty-Two turned away from him and his army of mechs followed. The man made a few squawking cries, but Sixty-Two ignored him. They would circle the vent, using its heat to shield them from detection. After that, they’d plan their next move. He thought the best move would be to head even deeper into the freezing wastes of Nightside. The crazy skald could stay behind if he wished. In fact, leaving him here would be a pleasure. Lizett would be heartbroken, of course, but it couldn’t be helped. If they pressed on into the darkest regions of the planet, he could not survive anyway.

It was Lizett’s cry some minutes later that caused Sixty-Two to relent and look back. Immediately, he worried she had fallen into the dark crater. But he could see her. She was at the very rim, looking out into the rushing vapors.

Sixty-Two signaled a halt and moved to her side. “Have you gotten your foot stuck, Lizett?”

“No,” she said. She pointed with a gripper out into the plumes of fog. “Look!”

Sixty-Two peered into the steam and adjusted his orbs in vain. It was difficult to focus when the gasses were opaque and shifting. He did notice, however, that Ornth was no longer riding on Lizett’s back. Immediately, Sixty-Two directed his orbs downward, expecting to see a mangled body on the jagged rocks.

“Did he fall out?” he asked.

“I don’t know how got out there. I could not feel him climbing free of his sack. Only when my weight and balance gyros registered a shift did I suspect it. I reached for him, but he evaded my grippers.”

“Got out where?”

Insistently, Lizett pointed not downward, but directly out in a horizontal direction. Sixty-Two peered—and finally, he did see. The skald appeared to be standing in the midst of the rising steam column, where there was no surface to stand upon.

“How did you get out there?” Sixty-Two demanded.

“This is the place. The place that cannot be. Follow me, if you would know the truth.”

“Follow you? How can I do that? You are a mad-thing.”

“Place one of those great clanking feet in front of the other until you stand at my side,” Ornth said.

“I’ll do no such thing. Come, Lizett. He’s trying to trick us. He stands upon a stone we can’t see. We’ll leave him here. Either he’ll come to his senses, or he won’t, and I’ll be rid of him at long last.”

Sixty-Two turned and walked away. The rest of the mechs formed ranks again to follow.

“I’ve done it!” cried Lizett’s voice behind him.

Suspecting he wouldn’t like what he saw, Sixty-Two swung his orbs back to look at Lizett. She was walking on nothing, heading out into the vapors to where Ornth stood waiting. Sixty-Two stared at the pair, dumbfounded.

#

Aldo and Nina rode their mounts at the head of their combined armies, driving deeply into Nightside. Now that they had the numbers, Nina no longer moved carefully. She wanted to find the enemy, and overrun them. Moving at full speed, their mounts were capable of nearly twice the pace of a running mech. The ride wasn’t comfortable, however. The freezing air rushed by like a hurricane. Their goggles were soon frosted with rime and even with suit-heaters running at full blast, their extremities were numb from the cold. Aldo wondered if he’d have all his toes left after this expedition. He doubted it.