Chapter 14
- Krix’vorr -
I wake before Nora does.
The Beast's pulse moves through the chamber in a slow rhythm while I lie still and watch the female sleeping beside me. For several moments I can't remember why the room feels different. Then I look at her and the answer becomes obvious.
Nora is tangled in the tattered and singed remains of my Dulurtz banner, a trophy from my first Harvest as a Junior Harrower.
One thin arm rests beneath her head and the dark hair unique to her species has spread across the bedding.
Her breathing is slow and steady. A few singed strands remain near one side of her face, evidence of how close she came to the digestive fires.
Alive. But that was a close call.
I study her for longer than necessary. The previous cycle returns in fragments. The furnace. The fall. The sight of her tumbling toward the fire.
The certainty that I would arrive too late.
That strange pressure returns beneath my chest plates. The strange lightning again, the one that seems to get triggered by some chemical reaction between this female alien and my carapace. At least, that's the explanation I try to give myself.
I've experienced pain before. Battle. Success. Joy. None of those things resemble whatever has been happening to me since Nora appeared. Even now I find myself watching her breathe, as though some part of me expects her to vanish if I stop paying attention.
I reach toward her without thinking. My hand stops halfway there. What am I doing?
The question irritates me enough that I rise from the platform and move away. Nora is valuable and potentially unique. She may lead me to an entire world. Those facts explain why I rescued her, why I carried her from the furnace, and why I healed her.
Every part of that reasoning is perfectly sound.
Yet whenever I picture her falling into the fire, logic seems to have very little influence over the result. And the mating… it was beyond magnificent. I can’t remember having been so lost in an activity, ever. Even a battle or a fight is less intense than that. Perhaps–
A strong pulse rolls through the chamber. The lights dim. Moments later they brighten again.
Then they dim once more.
I glance toward the walls and narrow my eyes. The Beast knows I'm awake. Another pulse follows, carrying an unmistakable note of irritation.
"Nora survives one cycle in my chamber and you've already begun behaving like a hatchling," I mutter as I get to my feet.
The lights dim even further. That answers the question well enough.
The membranes open ahead of me as I move deeper into the Beast. Warm currents travel through the corridors and the living walls part before my approach. Every part of her knows where I am. Every part of her also knows where Nora is.
The thought follows me all the way to one of the primary circulation chambers.
The space glows with the movement of nutrient fluids flowing through translucent vessels thicker than trees.
Heat hangs in the air. The scent is familiar and comforting, carrying traces of digestion and life.
As I approach, the nearest wall swells outward toward me in greeting.
The Beast is very close here, her massive brain hidden in her thick skull.
I place my hand against the membrane. The chamber immediately responds. Pulses travel through the surrounding tissue. The response feels demanding, possessive, almost impatient.
“It’s enough now. You’ve made your point." The words sound harder than I intended.
The pulsing stops for a moment. Then the wall presses forward again beneath my palm.
I close my eyes and consider what happened in the furnace.
At first I'd assumed the Beast had acted carelessly.
Now that explanation feels increasingly unlikely.
She knew where Nora was. She knew what the digestive chamber would do to an unprotected body.
The more I think about it, the less it resembles an accident.
“You tried to kill her,” I growl.
I've always known the Beast disliked other females. She closes passages, refuses convenient routes, and makes her displeasure known whenever another female remains aboard too long. Usually it's an annoyance. This was something else.
I strike the membrane with the heel of my hand, just to get her attention.
There’s no pain, I know that. To this immense spacefaring creature, this is like a gentle tap, barely to be noticed.
The impact echoes through the chamber and the surrounding tissue immediately becomes still. "You endangered my mission!"
Nothing moves.
"You endangered valuable intelligence."
A faint vibration answers me. Defiance.
I strike the wall again, harder than before, and the vibration dies.
Then I find myself speaking words I hadn't intended to use. "And you endangered Nora."
The response is immediate. A pulse moves through the wall beneath my hand, and understanding follows a heartbeat later. The beast is angry about attention.
I stare at the glowing membrane for several moments before an unexpected laugh escapes me.
"You ridiculous creature."
The wall presses gently against my hand again.
For a moment I can almost understand her reasoning.
I feed her. Guide her. Fight beside her.
Travel inside her. Every important cycle of her life revolves around me, and there's no stronger bond than that between a Chief Harrower and his ship.
Now another female occupies my attention and the Beast has decided she dislikes the arrangement.
The absurdity of it would be amusing if it hadn't nearly killed Nora.
I straighten and let the humor leave my voice. "Your preferred feeding cycle is suspended."
The membrane immediately withdraws. Good. Now she's listening.
"You'll receive standard nutrient stock for the next ten cycles. You'll obey every command during the next cycles, and your performance will be flawless."
The chamber darkens. I let the silence stretch before continuing. "If I begin questioning your usefulness, things will become unpleasant for both of us."
The threat doesn't need further explanation.
Space beasts that become uncontrollable don't remain in service forever.
Eventually they are returned to breeding programs or retired, let loose.
It's not a bad thing for them, but they never see their Harrower again.
The Beast understands that perfectly well.
A pulse travels through the chamber again. This time it carries fear, followed by reluctant submission. The surrounding tissue relaxes. Nutrient currents resume their normal rhythm. Warmth returns to the air.
I rest my hand against the membrane one final time. "You are magnificent," I tell her. "I am proud of you and I have never regretted taming you for myself. Don’t change that."
The Beast answers with a soft pulse that feels almost apologetic.
Almost. For now, that's all I can expect.
I leave the circulation chamber more unsettled than when I entered it.
The Beast has submitted. For now, at least. That should have resolved the matter.
A subordinate disobeys, discipline is imposed, and the mission continues.
The simplicity of that arrangement has always been one of the great comforts of command.
Instead, as I move through the living corridors, I find myself thinking about Nora again.
The female has somehow managed to disrupt the Beast, distract me from my duties, and convince herself that crawling through the digestive passages of a living war-beast constituted a reasonable escape plan.
Any sensible creature would have died several times already.
Nora appears determined to survive through stubbornness alone.
I make my way back toward the command levels.
A membrane opens ahead of me before I reach it.
On the other side, the Signals Chief drops to his knees and holds up another tablet "Chief Harrower! The transmission from Harrower Buc'xsit has arrived."
“At last,” I grunt. Something understandable. Something that follows familiar rules.
I take the message tablet from him and touch it to my antennae and read the writing.
The battle continues. Dri'puxz remains engaged. The enemy Harrower has suffered significant damage. Coordinates are attached, along with a collection of sensor recordings and recovered imagery.
I review everything once, then begin again more carefully.
The battle is farther from the Nest than I'd expected. That alone explains why it has continued for so long. Living ships can endure astonishing punishment, especially when rival Harrowers become too proud to withdraw. Pride has prolonged many battles that reason would have ended.
My pulse quickens. Battle! It’s been a while for the Beast and me.
We’ve spent too long on the edge of known space, watching mine fields and exploring cold stars for possible targets to Harvest. Nothing will tame the Beasts murderousness towards Nora like a battle.
And nothing will make me feel more alive. Except possibly mating with Nora.
The signals chief remains motionless on the floor while I continue studying the data. He knows better than to interrupt.
That enemy Harrower may hold evidence of a second alien vessel. Or even an alien like Nora.
One vessel can be an accident. One vessel can be a curiosity. Two vessels suggest a pattern. They suggest that Nora's civilization is more sophisticated than I thought.
The Queen will be highly interested. And if one Chief Harrower returns with not one, but two scouts from that civilization, then… well, the rewards should be ample.
I lower the tablet and look at the signals chief. "Prepare the Beast for immediate travel through the Soft Dark to these coordinates."
Excitement flashes through his posture before he suppresses it. "We are joining the battle, Chief Harrower?"
"We are ending it," I say flatly.
His antennae flatten respectfully. "Yes, Chief Harrower."
He begins backing away toward the membrane, but another thought occurs to me. "Wait."
The signals chief freezes.
I glance down at the tablet again. If another creature like Nora truly exists, the implications extend far beyond a battlefield.
Finding her world becomes more likely. Understanding that world becomes more likely.
My position before the Queen becomes stronger.
Every calculation points toward immediate action.
Yet another possibility follows close behind. If another creature like Nora exists, she may already be dead. Nora would want to know.
I study the tablet. "Prepare departure. Then have provisions sent to my chamber."
The signals chief hesitates long enough to reveal his confusion. "Chief Harrower?"
"I said provisions. Oh, and fabric. Thin fabric. Supple."
His mouth works in silent puzzlement. "Yes, Chief Harrower."
He disappears through the membrane. I have no idea where he’ll get supple fabric aboard the Beast. But Nora needs clothing and it’s an underling’s duty to obey all his superior’s commands.
As I continue toward my chamber, the Beast is already responding.
Deep vibrations travel through the deck beneath my feet while enormous muscles throughout her body prepare for acceleration to the mysterious Soft Dark, where distances are shorter than in normal space.
Nutrient flows increase. Internal temperatures adjust. Across her immense body, thousands of lesser organisms will already be moving toward their assigned functions.
Battle awakens her. Normally I appreciate that. Today my thoughts remain elsewhere.
The membrane opens into my chamber and I find Nora awake.
She sits on the edge of the resting platform.
Her dark hair is tangled from sleep and the translation flower still rests behind one ear.
Her machine hovers nearby, rotating slowly as though he has spent the last several minutes lecturing her.
Both of them look toward me immediately. For a moment nobody speaks. Then Nora smiles.
The reaction catches me off guard. It is an entirely irrational response, yet something in my chest loosens when I see it.
"There you are," she says. "For a while I thought your ship might have burned you. Again, I mean."
My gaze lingers on her. Alive and awake, reminding me how my ship almost killed her.
The pressure beneath my chest plates returns, in fierce competition with the pressure further down.
Mighty Swarm, she’s all bare! As if she was specifically designed to allure males.
And still she’s defiant. How can such a female survive more than half a cycle?
But she has. Her strength is all on the inside, and I'm sure I haven't yet seen the depths of it.
I clear my voice. "The Beast considered the possibility. I persuaded her otherwise."
Nora studies me for a moment, as though trying to determine whether I am joking. Then she gives up and folds her hands in her lap. "Should I ask?"
"Ask what?"
"How you persuaded her."
“It would be a waste of time.” I tear my gaze away from her naked form and hold up the tablet. "We are departing."
Nora immediately becomes serious. "Departing where?"
"There's a battle." I walk closer and offer her the image. "Another wreck has been discovered. Possibly another ship from your world."
For a moment she simply stares. Then everything about her changes. Hope appears first. Then disbelief. Then the cautious excitement of someone who has learned not to trust good news too quickly. I watch the transformation happen. It’s remarkable, and somehow I find myself pleased by it.
A deep vibration rolls through the chamber. The Beast is preparing for battle.
Nora feels it too. Her head lifts and she looks toward the walls. "What's happening?"
"The Beast is going on the hunt." I turn toward the opening membrane.
Somewhere ahead, another vessel from Nora's world may have been found. Somewhere ahead, there may be another creature like her.
And somewhere ahead, an enemy Harrower is about to discover that this battle - and likely his life - is over.