Seven #3
Willow closed her eyes for a second. Because apparently the Scozid response to every problem was: Step One: Create catastrophe. Step Two: Kill anyone who points out the catastrophe. Step Three: Declare victory.
The ship reached inner atmosphere. Vibration rolled through the hull. Warning alarms began sounding throughout the vessel. The crew moved. They could hear boots. Voices. Orders. Metal doors opening and closing. The entire ship became a kicked anthill.
Renjik checked the corridor. “Now.”
The service passage ran parallel to the main corridors, hidden behind maintenance panels and environmental systems. It smelled faintly of coolant and recycled air.
Willow hated it. Which probably meant it was a good hiding place.
Threx led them deeper into the ship.
Twice they stopped while Scozid patrols passed. Once they watched three officers drag a contaminated crewman toward a sealed compartment while he begged them to listen. The compartment door closed. The officers walked away.
Willow looked at Threx. “How often does this happen?”
Threx stared at the floor. “Not often.” A pause. “Usually not important enough.”
That answered a lot of questions about Scozid society.
They continued downward. The vibration changed. They weren’t descending anymore. They were landing. The ship touched down.
Silence was broken with screaming. Faint through layers of metal. But unmistakable.
Everyone froze. The screams multiplied.
Threx closed his eyes.
“Oh,” Willow whispered. The freha enhek had reached the city. The realization hit her like a punch. Not because she hadn’t known it’d happen. Because it was suddenly very real. Real individuals. Real families. Real lives ending beyond the walls of the ship.
Na’ashq’ii lifted its head. Its plates shifted. Blue. Purple. Then black. The color rippled across its body like spilled ink.
Willow frowned. “That’s new.”
The creature clicked. Once. Then again. A different sound than before. Not warning. Not command. Something else.
She leaned closer.
The rhythm repeated. Three clicks. Pause. Two clicks. Pause. Three clicks. The same pattern. Again. And again. And again. Na’ashq’ii wasn’t reacting. It was listening.
Willow stopped walking.
Renjik nearly walked into her. “What?”
She looked down at the creature. Then toward the hull. Then at Threx. “Wait.”
Na’ashq’ii clicked again. Three. Pause. Two. Pause. Three. Willow felt something slide into place. The way a puzzle piece suddenly fits after you’ve been forcing the wrong shape for hours. “It’s listening to it.”
Renjik frowned. “Listening to what?”
“The freha enhek.”
Silence.
Na’ashq’ii clicked again. Three. Two. Three. The exact same pattern.
Willow’s pulse jumped. “That’s not random.”
The creature’s black plates shivered. Another series of clicks followed. Different. Longer. Answering.
“Oh.” She stopped walking entirely. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Renjik immediately looked concerned.
Which was fair. People usually became concerned when Willow sounded delighted during a disaster.
“Willow.”
“It isn’t just giving commands.”
“Willow.”
“It can hear them.”
“Willow.”
She looked up. “The freha enhek is transmitting.”
Nobody spoke.
Even Threx looked alarmed. Which was saying something.
“The command language.” Her thoughts raced ahead of her mouth. “That’s why it responds to cadence. That’s why it reacts to vibration. That’s why Na’ashq’ii keeps reacting before we do.”
Na’ashq’ii clicked again. This time the rhythm changed midway through. Like it was receiving information. Then answering.
Willow stared. The tiny armored menace stared back.
“Oh my God.”
Renjik pinched the bridge of his nose. “Explain.”
“I think when the weapon was altered to move across inorganic material, they inadvertently made each contaminated surface a relay.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Even Threx.
Willow gestured wildly. “The Scozid think it’s a biological weapon. But what if that’s not what it ended up as?”
Renjik’s eyes narrowed. “Keep talking.”
“I think they built a command network.” The words came faster now. “I think they accidentally engineered something that could carry information across infrastructure.”
Threx made a startled clicking sound.
Willow pointed at him. “Exactly.”
He blinked.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Neither do I, but it felt supportive.”
Renjik sighed.
She ignored him.
“The freha enhek spreads through connected systems. It responds to commands. It shares information. It adapts.”
Na’ashq’ii clicked. The black coloration faded slightly.
Willow looked down. Then slowly smiled. A smile that generally worried people.
Renjik groaned. “You figured something out.”
“I did.”
“I dislike that expression.”
Willow pointed toward the city beyond the hull. “We don’t need to stop the freha enhek.”
Renjik stared.
Threx stared.
Even Na’ashq’ii seemed offended.
“We need to hijack it.”
For one glorious second nobody said anything. Then alarms began screaming throughout the ship. A new voice came over the speakers. Panicked. Desperate. No longer pretending everything was under control.
And Willow’s smile widened. “See?”
“Of course that’s your plan.”
“It’s an excellent plan.”
“It’s a terrible plan.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Unfortunately, he knew she was right.