Chapter 15
- Nora -
Krix’vorr stands by the window and looks out. Even now he has this regal, commanding presence, as if he’s expecting the stars themselves to obey him.
Other locusts arrive with food, crawling in and setting it on a table they brought.
Their submissive manner is almost ridiculous, if I didn’t feel some of the same urge myself.
Krix’vorr’s presence is overwhelming, both in its terror and in its weird safety.
When he’s near, nothing can happen to you. Except whatever he does.
I quickly eat the alien stew, which is just as tasty as before. I open a clear cylinder of fluid and sniff it. “Is this water?”
Krix’vorr glances over. “Anything not water will have some color to it.”
“I could think of many deadly liquids that won’t,” I tell him as I take a sip. “And what may be harmless to you may kill me.” If it’s some kind of poison, it tastes of nothing special.
He observes me. “That may be the case. But I have yet to see water kill anyone unless they were drowning in it.”
Another crewmember crawls in, holding a tray above his head. On the tray is a thick cylinder that at first looks like a cake.
“Dessert?” I ask, but notice that the translation flower doesn’t seem to know the word. “Something sweet for after the main meal,” I explain.
Krix’vorr sends me a puzzled glance and takes the ‘cake’ off the tray.
“Sweet?” There’s a screech as he pulls five feet of tape off what is now clearly not a cake, but a huge roll of the stuff.
“This isn’t for eating. This is for sealing injuries on the Beast, for protecting that which is vulnerable.
It will work perfectly for you, covering the softer parts. Well done, lackey.”
“Oh thank you, Chief Harrower,” the crewmember squeaks and scurries out.
Krix’vorr tosses the roll of tape over to me. It’s maybe three inches wide and reminds me of a stiff electrical tape, except a shimmering green. The pattern is organic and the sides uneven, so I’m sure it’s been grown somewhere. The inner side is sticky.
“You want me to put this on me?” I ask.
Krix’vorr puts his hands on his belt. “I actually prefer you without anything on. But you’re sufficiently distracting for the crew as it is, and I suppose even your species needs to keep some parts shielded.”
“Lucius, can you help?” I pull a foot of tape off the roll and consider how to do this.
I guess I could turn it into a tube dress of some kind, and if I use some of the half-burned rags from the wall banner here and there, maybe it will cover me somewhat.
At least this material is somewhat softer than the silly cardboard they gave me before.
Lucius takes hold of the roll and flies around me while I hold one arm out from my body and keep the burlap fabric in place with the other. “Have you thought about how you’ll get it off again?”
“It’ll be like a whole body wax,” I reply with a shudder as the tape sticks to me from mid-thigh to my waist, climbing steadily as Lucius rolls it onto me in a climbing spiral. “Don’t make it too tight, please.”
By the time Lucius reaches my ribs, I'm encased in a flexible green tube that looks halfway between a dress and emergency hull repairs.
I place some pieces of burlap over my chest as the drone winds the tape onto me. He stops and hovers. “You want some shoulder straps?”
“No,” I decide, trying to move but feeling like a mummy. “This thing will absolutely stay up on its own.”
“Oh, definitely. It’s literally glued to every inch of your skin. I meant for the look.”
“For the look?!” I splutter. “No! I'm not going to a gala. Just cut it!”
He does, then spends some time checking for gaps in risky places and tapes them up. “Can you move?”
I walk back and forth and do some shallow squats, making the tape creak and squeak while Krix’vorr looks on with mild amusement.
“It’s better than the cardboard,” I decide. “Just.”
Krix’vorr comes closer and strokes the outside of the wound-on tape with one knuckle. “I didn’t think you’d cover this much, but you’re now well protected against both meteorite impacts and an assassin’s dagger.”
An intrusive thought passes through my mind: How will I get this off again next time I’m alone with him? Because I’ll absolutely want it off if I get another chance.
“Uh-huh,” I say while thinking of something acidic to say.
Suddenly my stomach lurches.
Then the room turns upside-down and becomes like a film negative, with white becoming black and green becoming red. I yelp in surprise and reach out to grab Krix’vorr’s hand before things turn back to normal a second later.
I take a second to remember how to breathe.
“Incredible phase shift,” Lucius says quickly. “This whole mission was worth it just for that.”
I slowly regain my balance. “What was that?”
“It’s all right,” Krix’vorr says as he takes my hand. “Going into the Soft Dark can sometimes be strange. You get used to it.”
“The ship went into a fifth dimension,” Lucius says. “What is sometimes called ‘hyperspace’. It can travel faster there, one would assume.”
“We will soon be at the battle,” the locust rumbles. “I want you to see it. Come along.”
I rise from the table and follow Krix'vorr toward the opening membrane, still trying to decide whether I'm more disturbed by the sudden color inversion or by the fact that I grabbed his hand without thinking.
A few steps later I look down and discover he's still holding it. His larger hand completely encloses mine as he guides me through the living corridors of the Beast.
None of the crew we pass seem surprised by the arrangement. If anything, they become even more deferential when they see us together. Locusts flatten themselves against the walls or drop to both knees as their chief passes.
I glance up at him while we walk. "Do they always do that?"
"If they wish to live."
For a moment I think he's joking. Then I see that he's entirely serious, and it sends a coldness down my spine. It’s not entirely unpleasant.
The Beast feels different now that she's moving through whatever impossible place the Soft Dark actually is.
Vibrations travel through the floor beneath my feet.
Warm currents move through the corridors.
Every so often the walls pulse with light as enormous biological systems work harder around us.
The entire ship feels alert, like a hunting animal that's caught a scent and knows prey is nearby.
The further we go, the busier the interior becomes. More crew appear in the corridors. Some carry bundles of supplies. Others hurry along with tablets pressed against their chests. Several disappear through side passages that close behind them like lips sealing shut.
"Are they preparing for battle?" I ask.
Krix'vorr glances toward a group of passing crew members before answering. "A battle begins long before the first strike."
The statement sounds remarkably familiar.
For a moment I picture admirals and generals back on Earth saying exactly the same thing.
The details couldn't be more different. Their ships weren't alive, their crews weren't giant locusts, and their weapons almost certainly didn't involve biological horrors.
Yet underneath all that, the logic feels familiar.
There are preparations and logistics, with Krix'vorr in easy, unassailable command.
It makes him seem even more dangerous. Somehow it also makes him more attractive, which is a complication I don't particularly want to examine right now.
“Will we be in danger?” I ask.
“Every battle carries some danger,” Krix’vorr rumbles. “I expect this battle to be fierce and short. Here is the control chamber.”
The corridor widens ahead of us. A membrane parts and warm light spills through. I take two more steps before stopping entirely.
The room beyond is enormous.
My eyes search automatically for screens, consoles, holographic displays, keyboards, or anything remotely familiar that I’d expect in a control room.
I don't find any of them. Instead the entire room appears grown rather than constructed.
The walls curve upward into a high dome filled with translucent lenses of different sizes.
Some are no bigger than dinner plates. Others are larger than vehicles.
Stars drift across one. Darkness fills another. Strange distortions ripple through several more. Together they provide views from every direction around the Beast's body.
"They aren't displays," I murmur.
Lucius immediately rises higher into the air. "They're connected directly to external sensory organs. Multiple spectrums. Multiple viewing angles. Organic sensor arrays. Or ‘eyes’, as they’re usually called. Captain, this is extraordinary."
I continue staring upward. It makes my skin prickle. Somewhere outside the Beast, enormous eyes are looking into space. What I'm seeing here are the results.
The center of the chamber is even stranger.
A massive chair rises from the floor like the trunk of a tree.
Around it hangs a web of cords, tendons, pulleys, and living control lines.
Some disappear into the walls. Others vanish into the ceiling.
The whole arrangement vaguely resembles the control harness for an enormous animal.
Every line appears alive. Several pulse with glowing fluids moving beneath translucent surfaces.
Crew members occupy smaller stations arranged around the central position. They manipulate lesser bundles of living cords while monitoring clusters of lenses. The entire chamber feels less like a bridge and more like the nervous system of some gigantic organism.
The moment Krix'vorr enters, the atmosphere changes.
Conversations stop. Crewers turn toward him. Antennae lower. Every motion in the room suddenly revolves around his presence.
I've seen admirals command respect. I've seen politicians command attention. I've watched famous people enter a room and immediately become the center of it. This feels different. This is more electric.
The crew are orienting themselves around him. Every reaction suggests the same thing: if Krix'vorr gives an order, reality rearranges itself accordingly.
For the first time I understand why he's survived long enough to become whatever a Chief Harrower is. His authority feels built into him. It's not just something he wears like a title.
He releases my hand only when he reaches the central station. The crew parts before him without being asked. Nobody questions him. Nobody offers advice. Nobody looks uncertain about who belongs in command.
Krix'vorr settles into the living chair and places both hands on the thick control tendons extending from it.
The response is immediate. Several lenses brighten.
Deep vibrations move through the floor beneath my feet.
The cords surrounding the chair tense like muscles awakening under a handler's touch.
For a moment I forget to breathe. This is more than a captain taking his seat on a bridge. It's a rider climbing onto a living predator.
Krix'vorr looks completely at ease. The Beast seems to know him as well as he knows her. Watching the two of them connect through those living controls makes it easy to understand why he speaks about the ship as though she's another person.
A moment later he glances toward me. "Stay close and don’t get in the way. There will be some movement. Hang on to that." He nods above me, where a tendon-like rope hangs down.
I do as he says and grab it.
By now I've learned that when Krix'vorr tells someone to stay close, he means they'll be safer if they do. The truth is that I also really want to.
The deep vibration beneath my feet changes. Every lens in the chamber flickers at once. The strange distortions of the Soft Dark vanish and stars appear in their place. My stomach lurches as reality seems to snap back into its proper shape.
Several crew members brace themselves against nearby structures while the Beast releases a long, resonant sound that I feel through the floor and the walls.
"We've arrived," Lucius says, rising higher into the air. "And I strongly recommend looking at the primary sensor."
I don't need the suggestion. The largest lens dominates an entire section of the chamber wall. The image inside steals my attention so completely that I forget everything else for a moment.
Two colossal creatures are fighting in space. My mind refuses to accept it at first. Every instinct insists they should be starships. They're larger than anything alive has any right to be, immense enough that entire Earth vessels could probably disappear into their shadows.
Yet they're moving.
One resembles the Beast enough that I immediately recognize it as another member of her species.
The second is completely different. Its body is broad and armored, covered in overlapping plates and huge spikes.
It reminds me of a turtle, if someone had scaled a turtle up until it became a floating mountain and then crossed it with an immense porcupine.
The two monsters collide. The impact appears almost slow from this distance, yet the force behind it is obvious. The image trembles. Massive limbs and armored plates scrape against one another while glowing fluids spray into space.
"Oh my God." The words escape before I can stop them.
The Beast surges forward and the image change. Stars stretch briefly across the lens before snapping back into focus. Every crew member in the chamber becomes intensely focused on their tasks.
The other locust vessel immediately breaks away from the fight.
"That is Harrower Dri'puxz," Krix'vorr says while studying the lenses. "He has done enough."
The retreating beast peels away into the darkness. The spiked creature remains. Its attention turns toward us. At first I think sections of its shell are separating. Then I understand that those aren't shell plates; they're jaws.
Several enormous appendages unfold from beneath the creature's body and lash outward. The movement is fast enough that I flinch. Whatever this thing is, it has no intention of dying politely.