Chapter 27
- Krix’vorr -
Leaving the Nest is often a busy time. The Beast needs reassurance, and so does the crew.
They all know I was summoned to the Queen twice, and they're all curious about what that means.
When Nora starts looking tired, I send her back to our chamber and make sure food and drink are delivered. There are things I need to do alone.
I make my way to one of the outside observation points, on the Beast's outer hide. I can remain exposed to vacuum for a long while without ill effect, and the absolute silence beyond a living ship has always calmed me. There are no voices here, no ambitious rivals, and no queens.
The Nest shrinks behind us. Ahead stretches the bright river of stars marking the Galactic Center.
I may be traveling toward my death. Everything depends on Nora's machine finding the Gzet homeworld, a place generations of Broods have searched for without success. If Lucius fails, then eventually the Inquisitor will stop pretending patience and begin doing the work he was sent to do.
At any rate, Nora must survive. That thought is what brought me here.
I grip the Beast's thick fur and climb down her side. The hairs are coarse enough to support my mass, and beneath them I can feel the immense warmth of her body. Far below lies a fold of flesh hidden from casual inspection. Years ago I allowed the Beast to grow something there.
A calf.
Her kind reproduces by budding copies of themselves from specialized organs along their bodies.
Most owners forbid it because calves consume resources and require care.
I never saw the point of such restrictions.
The Beast has served me faithfully for many longcycles.
Letting her produce one offspring seemed a fair reward.
And recently I instructed her to accelerate its growth.
The opening accepts me immediately. The Beast knows where I'm going and parts the tissue ahead of me.
Warm air flows through the cavity, carrying familiar scents of fur, blood, and nutrient fluid.
The passage widens as I descend until I emerge into a chamber hidden completely within the Beast's outer body.
The calf hangs suspended in a cradle of living tissue.
For a moment I simply stare at it. The resemblance is unmistakable. It has the same broad skull, the same layered fur, the same horns for weapons. Yet everything is reduced in scale. Where the Beast herself is a city of flesh and muscle, the calf is merely the size of Nora's damaged scout craft.
Its eyes are closed, its pulsations slow. It hasn't awakened yet. But it’s close.
I walk around it, inspecting the details. The nutrient organs are functioning. The propulsion chambers and pods are mature enough for interstellar travel. Inside is a compartment that could hold cargo.
Or a human woman.
The thought makes my chest tighten. Nora would likely hate this plan if she knew about it.
She'd call it cowardice. She'd insist on facing danger beside me.
She'd probably argue until she was red in her little face. She’s a fighter at heart, braver than the most ambitious Harrower.
That became clear during our pretend fights in the training chamber.
Then she'd forgive me, I think. Because if things go badly, sending her away is the only way to keep her alive. And she’d see the sense of that.
I place one hand against the calf's side. Beneath the skin I feel the faint pulse of its many systems and the heat of its small furnace.
"You're almost ready," I tell it.
The calf twitches beneath my hand. Perhaps it hears me. Perhaps the Beast hears me through it.
Either way, I remain there for several moments, imagining the route to Earth.
The calf is small enough to evade notice.
It could carry Nora across the stars while the Inquisitor watches me.
If I ever become convinced that our search has failed, I can put her aboard and send her home before anyone understands what I'm doing.
That possibility is worth more to me than all the promises of queens.
Eventually I climb back toward the surface. The Beast closes the passage behind me and hides all evidence of the calf's existence. By the time I emerge onto her outer hide once more, the secret is buried beneath layers of flesh and fur.
The stars greet me again.
So does the Inquisitor.
Brax'tok stands on the Beast's back as though vacuum is a pleasant afternoon stroll. One hand rests on a tuft of fur while he studies the Galactic Center. He doesn't turn when I approach, which tells me he knew I was coming long before I saw him.
"A beautiful view," he signals with his hand. "The Center always makes me feel ambitious."
I stop beside him and look out across the stars. "Yes, it has some allure." The old hand signs come easily to me. It’s important for my kind to communicate in empty space. "But most males become even more ambitious when they hear the Queen is stepping down."
Brax'tok smiles without looking at me. "There it is. I was wondering how long it would take. Shall we go inside, Chief Harrower? I’m not used to being in open space.”
I do need some air soon, but the Inquisitor appears to be more affected by the vacuum than me.
“I like it out here,” I signal. “See how clearly the stars shine! Have you been to many worlds, Inquisitor?”
“I have unfortunately been cooped up in the Nest for too long,” he signs. “The Queen required me nearby at all times.”
“When did she decide to retire?” I ask, turning to look at the stars.
“Some time ago,” he replies, starting to look strained from the lack of air. “She wanted the succession to be orderly, and she wants everything to be settled. The new Queen, the new Royal Mate and so on.”
“She always had the wellbeing of the Brood as her guiding star,” I reply slowly. “She’s rightly the most beloved Queen in all the lore of the Brood.”
“Yes. Now I need to breathe air,” the Inquisitor signals and hurries to get through the airlock that consists of the Beast’s muscles.
I grin and follow him inside after a suitable pause to demonstrate my superior space ability.
Inside, I struggle to not gasp for air - I was also at the end of my tolerance.
“I see now… that the Queen’s… appointing you a Chief Harrower… was a good decision,” the Inquisitor pants, back inside the small observation cupola that has some thin membrane windows. “Surely you must have the greatest… space tolerance of anyone from our Brood.”
“I had a lot of practice as a Harrower,” I tell him, leaning on the wall and hoping it looks nonchalant, although it’s because I was starting to get dizzy. “I spend my time in space, furthering the cause and the reach and the terror of our Brood.”
“And a fine job you do,” he admits. “And yet, your alien doesn’t seem to sense any of the terror she should.”
I frown, pretending to misunderstand. “My alien? Sris, you mean? She’s only an assistant. Much like your Deeg.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t mean your helper, no. I mean Nora. The alien female you brought to the Queen’s chamber.”
“Oh, her. She’s entertaining, a fun diversion.
If you have never been in space before, Inquisitor, you have no idea how boring it can get out here.
I saw Nora navigate through a bad minefield, and when her ship was blown up I took her onboard, seeing as she could be a valuable clue to the location of a rich target.
As it turned out, her planet is worthless.
And then I kept her with me as a fun little thing to show to the Queen in her boredom.
She may seem like a pet to you, and I suppose I think of her a bit like that.
We’re Thyrr of the Brood, and it is our right to take and use anything we want from other species and from other Broods.
Nora comes from a species that's powerless - they are not enemies nor a competing Brood. So I use her while she amuses me. And then… well, who knows.”
I’m pretty sure that won’t put him off the trail, but I have to try.
“Who indeed,” he says pensively, touching the transparent membrane with one hand.
“It’s just that the Queen is deeply concerned about the lightning that was reported.
She calls it 'the thunderstorms', meaning the electric discharges that are seen between you and the alien. She knows about it and she would have pressed you much harder about it in her chamber, but she wished to cause you no embarrassment in front of the others there. So it falls to me. Do you experience small bolts of lightning between yourself and Nora?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “Static discharge from her clothing, no doubt. Well, you saw the silly tape I had to encase her in so she wouldn’t hurt herself on every sharp edge around.”
“Yes, I wondered if that was her own attire. The queen was sure it wasn’t. But the lightning, Chief Harrower. It’s my opinion - and that of the Queen - that it’s not static electricity. Her Majesty thinks that you’re Marankz with this Nora.”
That was just about what I was afraid he might say.
I pretend to freeze, and then I turn slowly to face him. “Marankz? That old nonsense from the ancient myths?”
“Not as ancient as you may think,” the Inquisitor says.
“The Queen herself has seen it. Not in her Brood, but another. A long time ago, certainly. But it’s real enough.
Every few centuries it happens. A handful of males become obsessed with outsiders.
They abandon stations. Defy Queens. Ignore duty. "
“Are you suggesting…” I growl.
The Inquisitor goes on without pause. "The Brood fractures.
There are fights. Duels. Civil conflict.
Then, a generation later, the offspring of those unions become some of the strongest bloodlines in the Brood.
Our Queen suspects that this has started and that you and Nora are the first. This is distressing her a great deal, just when she is about to leave the throne. "
“Fated Mates,” I snort. “Couples predetermined by some mythical prophets eons ago. Eternal love that goes across species and brings new blood into the Brood. Yes, I know the myths. Surely the Queen doesn’t believe a word of it?”
“It’s not a matter of belief,” the Inquisitor snaps. “It’s a matter of record.”
I stare out at the stars without seeing them. This is exactly what I feared, what I suspected. The lightning is the surest sign that Nora and I are Marankz. And it would explain everything. But I can’t imagine a worse thing happening! My entire future with the Brood may be ruined.
Marankz. If the Queen believes it, then it's no longer a myth I can dismiss. It's a diagnosis. And the treatment, as far as the Brood is concerned, has always been the same: separation, ideally by death.
“Changing topics,” the Inquisitor says, “I was allowed to see the next Queen. She’s just out of the pupa, young and fresh.
She’s incredibly beautiful, and the nursery staff say she’s the most active and intelligent female they’ve ever had there.
She’s already predicted to be one of the great Queens, perhaps almost on the level of our beloved Szum-zic. ”
“Assuring a great future for our Brood,” I reply dutifully.
The Inquisitor turns to face me with a smile. “Yes, exactly! But everything depends on her beginning. And you know the most important factor for the earliest years of her reign, of course?”
“The Royal Mate,” I state between clenched jaws. “A good First Royal Mate is vital for the continued reign.”
“Indeed. And of course he can become legendary as well. Oh, remember the tales of Trak’roz the Glorious, Chief Harrower?
He was the first Royal Mate of Queen Xen’trac, and he conquered nearly every other Brood.
The Harvests during his lifetime are even now whispered about.
He wielded power over many planets and took our Brood from the smallest to the greatest in a very short time, while his Queen was still finding her footing.
Or Gepr’ent the Grand! Cas'cas the High!
Ma'pret the Splendid! All the first Royal Mate of a new Queen. All legendary. All with power over billions and billions!”
“And who does the Queen favor for this honor?” I ask, playing along.
“She hasn’t made her choice yet, but she has a couple of names in mind.
You must have understood that you are one of them, Chief Harrower.
But this business with the alien female almost certainly being your Marankz could ruin everything.
The time is approaching fast when you have to get rid of all such obstacles.
The sooner, the better.” The Inquisitor straightens the sash that shows his exalted position.
“I can see we’re going towards the galactic center.
Does this mean you already know the location of the Gzet homeworld? ”
“I’m still finalizing the details,” I admit. “And the Beast always needs some time to adjust to fast space travel after visiting the Nest.”
“I can only hope it won’t be long before we’re there,” Brax’tok sighs. “Deeg easily gets impatient, and then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to hold him back.” He turns and walks out of the cupola, down the ramp to the inner parts of the Beast.
I look out at the stars. They could all be mine.
For a moment I can see it: The throne. The Harvests. Entire worlds trembling at my command. The old courtiers replaced with new and better males, the Harrowers told to take more risks and expand our reach, the Brood stronger than ever under my reign. Oh, it could be marvelous.
The vision follows me all the way back to my chamber.
Nora rolls off the resting platform and comes towards me, the new clothing clinging to her scandalously female shape. “Everything all right, Krix’vorr?”
I reach out and run one knuckle gently down her soft cheek. “The Inquisitor wanted to talk. He would have needed some longcycles as a Harrower in space to understand how the galaxy really works.”
She leans her face into my hand. “What did he say?”
I lean in and smell her exotic hair. “Just court business, my love.”
“What court business?” Her eyes are impossibly clear.
I let my hands run down her sides, to the swelling of her hips. The pressure in my loins increases. “Oh, don’t make me go through it again. This garment suits you well. But I wonder if you don’t look better without it. May I see?”
“You know what I look like under it.”
I kiss her alien lips. “Yes, but what if I forget? Perhaps I need to be reminded.”
She smiles against my mouth, and her hands rise to the fastening at her shoulder.
The wrap loosens, slips, and pools around her waist.
I trace the line of her collarbone with one claw, careful as always, marveling as always at how something so unshielded can make me feel so thoroughly disarmed.
She shivers under my touch, and the shiver travels through my own body like a current finding ground.
I gather her up and carry her to the resting platform, and when the Beast dims the lights without being asked, I decide that the old creature is learning after all.