Chapter 12
- Nora -
The membrane closes behind Krix’vorr.
And the room immediately feels empty. He filled it so completely that now it’s as if something vital is missing, like a wall or a ceiling.
“He has an intense way about him,” I state, letting out a breath. “How do you rate him, Lucius?”
The drone starts his rotors again and buzzes up from the floor.
“A brute, a physically imposing male from a primitive culture that lives on death and torture and plunder and extinction of other species. A predator backed by a swarm, clearly in a leadership position supported by fear and the total obedience and subservience of the crew. An absolute menace, a psychopath and likely mass murderer.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply drily. “But how do you really feel?”
“Sorry,” the drone says. “But I’m not feeling too much sympathy for that locust right now.”
“You okay?” I glance over at him. “He squeezed you good.”
Lucius spins up his rotors as if testing them. “I’m fully functional. No damage was sustained. I was built to stringent military standards.” He does a lazy circuit of the room. “Captain, are you going to do some recon while you’re not in a cage?”
“Cage?” I ask. “You think he’ll put me in one?”
“You only barely avoided being brutally tortured,” he points out. “And I’m still not clear about why it was stopped. So yes, I think you can expect to have your freedom reduced even more. You are entirely at the mercy of that locust and his whims. The situation is unlikely to improve.”
I walk over to the opening where he left, touching the strange organic material. I have an urge to run after him, to stay close. Somehow these totally alien surroundings are less alien and less chilling when he’s near. “I don’t think I can do much intel work right now. It won’t let me out.”
“Let’s at least explore this room.” The drone zooms up to the uneven ceiling with its strange light.
It’s a big room for a spaceship, far larger than even the Admiral’s quarters in any Space Force vessel.
It’s probably even bigger than the mess hall on Scout Station Six in orbit around Earth.
To my spacer eyes, it looks like a waste of room, but the ship is immense.
I only got the shortest glimpse of it when I was thrown into space, but it was like a massive mountain behind me, red and black and gray.
The trophies line the walls and show how much Krix’vorr values killing and plundering.
So it’s not that I think Lucius is wrong, it’s that I think maybe I can find a way to deal with the locust. He hasn’t killed me yet, and that weird lightning thing is obviously alarming to both him and the torture lobster.
“Lucius,” I say and point up at the wall. “Can you get a hold of that?”
It’s a banner of some kind, showing what I assume is alien writing, but which could also be drawings or hieroglyphs or something like that.
He buzzes over. “You want me to cut it down?”
“Cut it or lift it or whatever, just help me get it.”
He reaches out with his little manipulator arm.
I go up on tiptoes to grab the lower part of the banner and pull with all my weight.
There’s a screech as the alien fabric rips apart, leaving me with about half of it.
Even then it’s the size of two bedsheets sewn together, but the fabric is as coarse as burlap.
It’s crudely embroidered with threads as thick as spaghetti strands, but at least it’s not transparent, and it’s much more supple than the silly cardboard the locust gave me to wear.
I discard the cardboard and the clingfilm, then wind the banner around me like a wrap. “I wish I knew how to tie a sarong,” I mutter as I struggle with the stiff fabric.
“I can help,” Lucius says, hovering beside me. “First take the other end…”
It takes me a few minutes and a good amount of swearing, but by the end I’m wearing the banner. I can even move around pretty well in it, and the coarse fibers seem to soften when rolled and crunched up.
“Not exactly Dior, but close enough for military work,” I mutter when I’m done. It makes me feel better to wear something that could pass as actual clothing. “You’d think it wouldn’t be necessary to strip me all the way bare.”
“It was a medical emergency,” Lucius points out. “The locust had to see what he was working with.”
“Watch out,” I tell him as I make the final adjustments. “You almost said something nice about him.”
“Oh, he clearly has a skill for healing. I don’t know that modern Earth medicine could have brought you back at all.
His intimate process did within minutes.
I’m allowed to be impressed by that. While I must note that you were in no position to give consent, the locust clearly did it as a healing process and not to enjoy himself.
Captain, would you look at this, please?
” He flies to a corner of the room and dives down almost the floor.
I walk over and bend down. “What?”
“Another opening,” the drone says. “Small, and it looks utilitarian.”
Indeed there is another round hole in the membrane, almost invisible from just a few feet’s distance. I hold my hand in front of it. “Ventilation? Heating? There’s a draft coming out.”
“A ventilation system would make sense,” the drone says. “I wonder if it can be made bigger.”
I gingerly touch the opening. Everything about this ship feels alive, and it’s like touching someone else’s body. But the irregular opening does widen to a foot diameter. “Okay. Now what?”
“This might be exactly what you’ve been looking for,” Lucius says with an eagerness I haven’t heard a lot from him. “An escape.”
I kneel down and peer into the opening. It’s all dark red and there’s a weak light in there. “Or a way deeper into captivity.”
“We’ll never know if we don’t try,” the drone chirps. “It may lead to priceless information about the ship and about the locust.”
“Sometimes I think you’re more concerned about the mission than about my welfare,” I mutter. I don’t like the looks of this opening.
“Perish the thought, Captain,” Lucius says. “But if you’re going in there, you might as well start now. We don’t know when your jailer will return.”
I prod the fleshy material around the opening. “You know, he doesn’t seem that much of a jailer. More like a military officer who’s running out of options.”
“I hope you’re not starting to sympathize with that locust,” Lucius says. “Never forget that he’s the enemy. Shall we go?”
I steel myself and put my head through the opening. “If it slams shut now and cuts my head off, I’ll blame you,” I state.
“So noted,” the drone says behind me. “Go on.”
My shoulders stretch the hole, and I imagine this is what it must feel like to be born.
My hips stretch it even more, but then I’m through.
The tunnel is dark red, and the slow pulsation of the ship is more noticeable in this small space.
I can just about crawl on all fours, and it’s made easier by the walls being soft and forgiving when I touch them. “Are you following me?”
“Right behind you,” Lucius says. “I’m recording, so only say things you want heard by Space Force.”
“Shit,” I seethe. “Of all the times… Don’t look up my wrap, okay? There’s nothing under it.”
“I’ll censor all such instances,” the drone assures me. “Space Force doesn’t approve of explicit material.”
I make sure to self-censor the next few things that cross my mind. I focus on crawling on. I might be able to turn around in here, but it would be a tight fit.
The tunnel slopes downward so gradually that I don't notice it at first.
The walls pulse around us with a slow rhythm.
Every so often a stronger contraction runs through the fleshy passage, like a heartbeat moving through some enormous body.
The air is warmer here than in Krix'vorr's chamber, and it carries a strange scent I can't identify.
It's organic, like a compost heap filled with fruits.
"Still think it's ventilation?" I ask.
"It certainly appears to be some sort of circulation system," Lucius replies from behind me. "The airflow seems consistent. The temperature is increasing gradually. Keep going."
"I don’t really have a choice."
The tunnel forks ahead. One branch curves upward while the other continues down. Before I can decide, a warm current brushes across my face from the lower passage.
"Feel that?" I ask.
"The airflow is stronger below. If this is ventilation, it probably leads toward a central processing area."
“Is that good?"
"Oh yes. Power generation. Environmental control. Something important. We want important things, Captain. Space Force likes important things."
That checks out with my experience. I crawl onward.
The walls gradually become translucent. Dim orange light moves beneath them in slow streams. At first I think they're veins carrying blood, but the glow is wrong. They’re too bright and too fluid.
I stop and press my hand against the membrane. Something warm moves on the other side. Not something. Thousands of things that feel like streams and currents. The entire ship seems alive with motion.
"Lucius."
"Captain?"
"This feels like we're crawling through somebody's insides."
There is a brief pause. "I can’t confidently rule that out."
"See, neither can I. This ship is alive, isn’t it?”
“Possibly this is a life form,” Lucius says in the reluctant way of an AI asked to give a true answer.
“It would seem to fit with the locusts using organic organisms for many things. For instance, the star map is plainly a creature. The translation flower is… well, a flower. The torturer is an alien crab of sorts.”
I crawl on. “Yeah. Have we actually seen real technology since the minefield?”
“Not as such, Captain. Everything since then has been organic. Grown, as it were. Not designed. Unless the locusts have access to some kind of genetic design process.”
“Thought so.” The passage widens enough that I can sit back on my heels for a moment. Nearby, a round opening reveals a chamber beyond. I lean closer and peer through.