The Dragons of Andromeda

by W. H. Mitchell

  “Son of a bitch,” she said and jumped into the hole.

  Landing next to Ruggles, she shoved the glasses into his hands.

  “Put these on, you idiot,” she said.

  “Who? What?” Ruggles stammered.

  “Put ‘em on!”

  Obeying, he winced once he got a good look at the Ougluk sharing the pit with him.

  “Good god!” he said.

  “I distinctly said no interference!” Bortok raged, shaking his fist. “Was I talking to myself?”

  Flax looked up.

  “If you kill him,” she said, “you’ll have to kill me too!”

  Bortok took a breath, calming himself.

  “I see,” he said. “As you humans say, that would be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Even an Ougluk wouldn’t do that.”

  Flax nodded and smiled, surprised that it actually worked.

  “That was sarcasm!” Bortok said. “Kill them both!”

  “Stop!” someone ordered.

  Bortok, Flax, and everyone else turned their heads. Next to the pit, a Magna stood beside a Red Dahl, tiny in comparison.

  “What is this nonsense, Bortok?” the Magna said.

  “Ipak-Bog,” the Ougluk replied, staring at the ground. “We were just trying to have a good time...”

  “By wasting livestock?” Bog asked. “I was unaware the needs of my home world meant so little to you.”

  “No! It was just a little fun.”

  “Get them out of there!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Judicator Busa-Gul arrived at the Ministry of External Security with the information he had gathered while visiting the Talion Republic. The offices of the ministry were located on the Magna home world Diavol, in the Consilium, a dark pyramid overlooking the city of Oras Dracilor. The Consilium was, for all practical matters, the center of the Magna Supremacy government. Those who worked in the building also lived there and, for the remainder of their lives, never left.

  Gul, in his golden kilt and spiraling horns, waited in the lobby, a room devoid of furnishings except for a slab of basalt serving as a bench. The walls and floor were black as slate, fixtures in the corners providing the barest minimum of light.

  After many minutes, a pair of heavy doors opened and Gul rose from the bench and walked inside. Once the doors shut behind him, Gul became aware of a desk on the far side of another largely empty room. Like the lobby, the walls and floor were dark stone. Above the desk, the Magna emblem was carved into the rock. It was a crescent lying on its side with the points sticking up. Cradled between the points was a circle and, below the crescent to the left and right, two more circles. The whole of the emblem was encrusted with rubies, the red contrasting against the black of the walls.

  “Come forward and report,” a voice said from behind the desk. In a high-backed leather chair, a Magna sat with horns weathered by age. Around his neck, he wore a gold crescent hanging by a chain.

  Gul crossed the long chamber until he was a few feet from the desk which he realized was cut from basalt like the bench outside.

  “Minister,” he said. “I have the information as requested.”

  “What did you find?” the minister replied.

  “The K’thonian raiders have continued to plague the Tals, especially along the outskirts of their republic.”

  “That’s not unusual.”

  “Correct, but the frequency and nature of the raids have changed,” Gul said.

  “Nature? What do you mean?”

  “In the past, the K’thonian attacks seemed random, even malicious. The raiders appeared without warning and killed and destroyed whatever they could find. Recently, the raids have increased markedly and the Tals have noticed something peculiar. Instead of merely razing settlements, the K’thonians seem to be looking for something specific.”

  “Such as?”

  “Books, Minister.”

  Gul heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the desk.

  “You must be joking,” the minister said. “Those mindless savages aren’t the reading type!”

  “No, indeed,” Gul replied. “In fact, I had an opportunity to study a K’thonian specimen — dead of course — and found the corpse surprisingly primitive. However, upon closer examination, I discovered the body contained several unused organs, remnants of an earlier time evolutionarily speaking. Also, the fact that the K’thonians use psionics suggests they were not always so backward.”

  The minister pulled at his chin, thinking deeply. After a long pause, he said, “Someone or something is pulling their strings.”

  “Indeed,” Gul replied eagerly. “The K’thonians appear to be thralls of some sort, under the influence of some greater power.”

  “Obviously, the most important question is whether this poses a threat to our interests...”

  “It’s still too soon to tell, Minister.”

  After another pause, “Fine work, Judicator,” the minister said. “You have impressed us yet again. I assure you, the Supremacy has not overlooked your achievements.”

  Gul bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

  “You may go,” the minister said, waving toward the doors that were opening as he spoke.

  The yacht of the Veber family reflected much of Lady Veber’s own aesthetics. Unlike most starships, which featured metal walls and technology on constant display, the yacht’s interior was more like the estate on Lokeren. The walls were painted in shades of white and pale blues. Ceramic tiles, decorated with the family’s scallop motif, lined doorways and corridors. In Lady Veber’s stateroom, where her style was most apparent, bare bulkheads were covered with paintings and lavish tapestries.

  Resting comfortably on a chaise lounge, Lady Veber was deep in thought. With a start, she roused herself, blinking several times.

  “Computer,” she said, “call Lord Maycare’s estate on Aldorus.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” the computer responded.

  One of the walls of the stateroom flickered and the larger-than-life face of Maycare’s butlerbot appeared. Lady Veber wondered why he kept such an old model.

  “My Lady,” Bentley said. “Good to see you again.”

  “I want to talk to Devlin,” Veber replied. “Is he available or has he gone gallivanting off somewhere?”

  “No, he’s here at present. Let me get him for you.”

  After several minutes, Lord Maycare appeared on the screen. His hair looked as if someone had tried, unsuccessfully, to comb a rat’s nest with a rake. Also, an unkempt beard covered much of his face. The gray strands in the beard made him look older than Lady Veber had ever seen him.

  “Good god, man!” she cried. “Have you been kidnapped?”

  Maycare, clearing his throat, tried to mat down his unruly hair. “No.”

  “Are you ill?” Veber asked more calmly.

  “Actually, I’ve been hard at work researching your son’s condition.”

  “Researching? Don’t you have people for that?”

  “Well,” Maycare replied, his eyes lowering, “there’s been some employee turnover...”

  Lady Veber huffed in exasperation.

  “Listen, Devlin,” she said, “Philip is getting worse by the day. I need you to find something — anything — that could help.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’m heading to Aldorus now—”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I have some unfinished business in Regalis, but I’ll only be there a short time before returning home. It’s important that you’ve made some progress before I do.”

  “Yes, Becca.”

  “I’m counting on you, Devlin!”

  Maycare nodded. “Understood.”

  The screen went blank, returning the stateroom wall to its original appearance. Lady Veber pulled herself off the chaise lounge and left her quarters with a sense of determination in her stride. Taking a lift to a different deck, one less fancy than the one she had left, Veber stopped at a me
tal door and placed her hand against a palm sensor. The door slid open. Inside, Magnus Black sat on a bed, looking out the window.

  “It’s a better view than a prison cell,” Veber said.

  Lady Nasri found herself eating cookies and drinking tea with Lord Tagus II in his West End estate. The room, with its Victorian style and blazing fireplace, was the same as last time, but the circumstances were vastly different. The old man took a sip and placed his cup on the coffee table in front of the large couch they both shared.

  “This was not exactly what I had in mind,” he said.

  “In what way?” she replied.

  “One doesn’t usually kill the head of a royal household.”

  “I told you,” Nasri insisted, “I had nothing to do with it!”

  One of his bony shoulders, beneath his well-worn, black and yellow tunic, rose in a feeble shrug.

  “You must admit,” he continued, “the timing of his death was not ideal. It has raised a good many questions, most of them shouted rather loudly.”

  “The hysteria of the general public means nothing. The truth remains that I am innocent!”

  “I hope that’s true, Lady Nasri. The consequences otherwise...”

  Sitting in silence, Tagus took another cookie and, taking a bite, chewed laboriously. Hearing the slow, crunching sounds coming from the old man made Nasri cringe. She focused on the flames in the fireplace.

  “On the other hand,” Tagus said finally, “without an heir, the House of Santos is no more and we’re left with six families instead of seven.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Nasri asked.

  “Well,” he replied, “there’s no one to break a tie if the families find themselves evenly split.”

  “I suppose a stalemate is better than losing.”

  “Rightly so.”

  A butlerbot came to the room, apologizing for the intrusion.

  “What is it?” Tagus asked.

  “Lady Veber is here to see you,” the robot said.

  Nasri felt herself turning red, but hoped the dimly lit room would keep her secret.

  “Well, send her in obviously,” Tagus replied.

  Lady Veber swept through the doorway in a well-tailored gown.

  A bit overdressed, Nasri thought.

  “What a pleasure to see you,” Tagus said, standing momentarily until Veber took a seat in the chair across from the couch. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Veber replied, her mouth in a tight smile.

  “What brings you here?” the old man asked.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the death of Lord Santos,” she replied, glancing at Nasri beside him on the sofa.

  “As I explained to Lord Tagus,” Nasri spoke up, “I don’t know who killed Andre and I’m just as upset as anyone about what happened.”

  “There’s a great many people upset, actually,” Veber said. “VOX News won’t stop talking about it.”

  “It’s troubling,” Tagus agreed, “but what can be done? Do you have any leads as to who might have been involved?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Veber said, leaning in, “I do.”

  From a shadow in the corner of the room, a figure appeared. He was dressed in black with hair shaved close to the scalp. The light from the fire danced along the features of his face.

  Lady Nasri gasped while Lord Tagus merely surveyed him with detached interest.

  “A friend of yours?” Tagus asked, turning to Lady Veber.

  “Not exactly,” Veber replied. “His name is Magnus Black.”

  “He must be very skilled to get past my security undetected,” Tagus remarked.

  Nasri took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s partially about you, my dear,” Veber replied.

  “How? I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “Actually, he’s the man who killed Lord Santos,” Veber said.

  “Then arrest him!” Nasri shouted.

  “I was going to,” Veber went on, “but it occurred to me that I might have a different use for him.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that...” Tagus said.

  “You see, with Lord Santos gone,” Veber went on, “the families are evenly divided. As you pointed out, Lady Nasri, with the seven families my own house’s influence was weaker and now with six, that’s even more true.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Nasri said, but as she tried to stand, her legs no longer responded. “What have you done?”

  “If something happened to you, my dear,” Veber said calmly, “My family’s place would return to its former importance.”

  “My hands,” Nasri said. “I can’t feel them.”

  “Mr. Black has been kind enough to poison you,” Veber said.

  “How?” Tagus asked.

  “In the food,” Veber replied.

  “Highly unlikely,” Tagus remarked skeptically. “Everything I eat is carefully scanned.”

  “I used a binary poison in the cookies and the tea,” Magnus spoke for the first time. “Separately they’re completely inert, but combined together they become quite toxic.”

  “Why in heaven’s name would you poison me too?” Tagus asked angrily.

  “I felt that poison would be appropriate,” Veber replied, “since that’s what you gave my son.”

  Lord Tagus coughed, the spittle on his hands a dark red. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “On the contrary,” Veber said coldly, glaring at the Tagus patriarch. “It made perfect sense once I realized it. You resented that I broke the tie that made Hector Augustus the new emperor instead of you. Of course, you weren’t foolish enough to attack me directly. Killing the head of a royal household would be too dangerous, so instead you went after my son.”

  “This is madness,” Tagus said. “There must be an antidote...”

  “I’m afraid not,” Magnus replied.

  Turning to Lady Veber, Tagus struggled to raise his hand toward her. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I swear!”

  “Dying will suffice,” Veber replied.

  The old man fell off the couch while Lady Nasri slumped against the cushions. Barely able to keep her head upright, she stared at Lady Veber through a darkening haze. Veber stood, joined by Magnus Black beside her. As she died, Nasri watched them walk away, fading into a blanket of flickering gauze.

  Jessica Doric read the rejection notice on her datapad. Since quitting her job with the Maycare Institute of Xeno Studies, Doric had applied to a number of other institutions, from colleges to private research organizations. She even tried getting her old job back as a professor at the University of Regalis, but the dean felt Doric’s time with Devlin Maycare had tainted her academic credentials. In the back of her mind, she considered the idea of working for Warlock Industries, but quickly discarded the possibility, in part because they had tried to kill her at least twice.

  Just off the hallway to Doric’s bedroom, a pile of dirty clothes was slowly ripening. Unwashed dishes filled the sink while a few others lay about the apartment in strategic locations. Books were also scattered across the living room floor. Doric felt compelled to research the Necronea, her professional and personal curiosity gnawing at her mind at all hours of the night. Sleeping had become a luxury, as well as bathing and most other forms of hygiene. None of the sources available to her, including articles on the nodesphere, could give Doric the detailed answers she was looking for. With bitter irony, she realized the truly useful bits of information were stored in Maycare’s own private library. She could think of at least a dozen books that currently lay out of reach.

  Sitting on the couch, she felt a vibration beneath her. Leaning to one side, she pulled her phone from under her leg and saw Lord Maycare’s picture, framed in dramatic profile, on the screen.

  Shit, she thought.

  Knowing she hadn’t washed her hair in nearly a week, she answered with voice only. “Hello?”

  “Jess!” Mayc
are shouted, as if not seeing her meant he had to talk louder. “Are you there?”

  “Yes,” Doric replied in a normal tone. “Stop shouting.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Why aren’t you on vidcam?”

  “I don’t feel like seeing you right now.”

  “Ah, don’t be like that, Jess! I wanted to show you something.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m downstairs,” he replied, “in front of your building.”

  “I’m pretty busy...”

  “Come on!” Maycare pleaded. “Give me a chance...”

  Doric sighed, running her fingers through her hard, brittle hair.

  “Okay,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

  Half an hour later, Doric appeared at the entrance to her apartment building. She was dressed and showered and wore something from the back of her closet, a gray dress with brown street shoes. Outside the main doors, Maycare was standing beside a shiny blue gravcar. Shaved and dapper as usual, he was dressed in a nice suit and tie. She joined him outside.

  “Jess!” he said and waved his hand over the hood of the car. “How do you like it?”

  Doric scrutinized the vehicle doubtfully and then did the same to Maycare. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s brand new!” he went on excitedly.

  “So, you bought another car? Is that what you wanted me to see?”

  “No, Jess,” he shook his head. “I bought you a new car!”

  “What?”

  “I wanted to apologize about how terrible I’ve been acting and beg for your forgiveness.”

  “So, you bought me a car?”

  “Well,” Maycare said, “I wanted to buy you flowers—”

  “I like flowers...”

  “—but Bentley said that would be inappropriate.”

  “Remind me to thank him.”

  “I thought a car would be better anyway. I mean, you could use it for work...”

  “Hold on,” Doric said. “Who said I wanted to go back to working for you?”

  Maycare’s chin, normally square and facing skyward, sank abruptly. Doric’s eyebrows rose.

  “Don’t you like the color?” he asked.

  Blue was her favorite color actually, but she wasn’t about to mention that.