by S. J. Higbee
“It’s shady,” I said, shaking with relief.
When the alarms had started skirling, I was convinced that hundreds, if not thousands were about to die. Scanning the readout of the activity record, I waved at the bubbling tank. “This isn’t a problem.”
Denzel clearly wasn’t convinced. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And when I commed Master Trask, he hadn’t, either, Your Ladyship.”
My smile faded. “You’ve told someone else?”
“Master Trask is absolutely trustfast,” announced Denzel. “Well, he likes things done by the manual. But he’d never chatter to journo-spots unfavourable to the Brarian faction.” He sighed, looking at the bubbling tank. “What do we do about this, Your Ladyship?”
“We don’t, it’s solid.”
Denzel’s anxious frown was still in place.
Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me? I wandered across to the organi-packs stored on the opposite wall, as far away from the active tank as possible, given that several rows of adjoining tanks were also stirred up. Pressing my hands and forehead against a tank where the packs were all supine, though clearly healthy, I added, “They’re a credit to your care.”
Then closed my eyes, projecting my thoughts at the tank. I love you so much… Looking after you is the best job on the planet… You’re so amazing and clever… Know you are so, so cared for and safe, my lovelies. My precious sweetings… We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you… I was rewarded by a gust of sweet thick scent as the tank began bubbling.
“Well I’ll be spaced! If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I’d never have believed it,” muttered Denzel, behind me. In a different tone, he added, “It’s you that’s made the difference, isn’t it, Your Ladyship?”
Reluctantly, I stepped away. I could spend the rest of the night here… A luminous outline glowed blue where I’d touched the tank as the datastrands in the packs clustered beneath my skin. “Difference?”
“We pride ourselves on keeping the Prime Nodery in stellar condition, obviously. But everyone has noticed how much faster the tanks respond since you took over. It gets a mention every meeting, Your Ladyship.” Denzel added, “We’ve been checking their food, the liquid, the temperature. Some of the other local Nodes want to know how to get the same results.”
Seth is right – I shouldn’t stay holed up in Brarian Place, afraid of meeting all these lace-lined Uppies. After all, they’re Brarians like me, so they’d want to talk about organi-packs, response times and info-mining tips and tricks, rather than look down their pointy noses at the way I spoke, wouldn’t they?
“May I try it, Your Ladyship?”
“Course. I talk to them – in my head, that is. Tell them how much I… care. How special they are, that kind of thing.”
Vrox and I came here often. My throat tightened at the thought that never again would he croon over the tanks. Even now, I could see scratches on the transparent, toughened plastuff where he’d stroke the tanks with his talons. I never tired of watching the datastrands and packs blaze with sudden colour and start bubbling, while crowding under his claws, as if desperate to touch him. Training manuals repeatedly said they were just stacked facs stored within an organic medium, providing maximum capacity with minimum deterioration or data loss, so long as the tanks were well maintained.
But they hadn’t reckoned on a mantivore MindLinking with the Command Codes he was forced to memorise.
As Denzel pressed his hands against one of the tanks, he asked, “And the mantivore – does he also talk to them, d’you think, Your Ladyship?”
“He did. Sadly he had an accident, when he fell from a window, earlier on,” said Seth.
While I could feel the giddying vertigo in my head where the mantivore used to be. I still couldn’t believe I’d never again feel his vari-coloured luminosity flare through my head.
Denzel dutifully murmured condolences, clearly more concerned with connecting to the organi-packs as he leaned against the tanks.
Emptily sad, I stared at the tank which caused all the fuss. It was calming down, but still strobing flashes of blue. Just like Vrox before he fell… Longing for the old mantivore poured through me, as I crossed the room and placed my hands on it. Oh Vrox! What’m I gonna do without you? I’ll have to come and talk to these lovely beasties all on my own…
Cub! I am roaming free in a place full of trees and grass. While there aren’t nemmets or jaspers, there are small furry creatures with smaller minds that are rather too crunchy, but taste quite sweet. Nicer than rats.
CHAPTER THREE
Vrox? Can you hear me? Where are you? How did you survive falling off the windowsill?
“Your Ladyship! The tank is responding to me! Look, it’s bubbling. This is the happiest moment of my life…” Denzel dabbed his eyes with his robe, before rushing across to another set of tanks to mind-talk to them, too.
“Yeah, that’s rain— I mean, stellar,” I mumbled, focusing on Vrox.
Using his night vision, I could see trees. Straight-trunked and leafy, growing surprisingly close to one another so branches and roots tangled together, making it difficult for the mantivore to walk through this woodland. It didn’t help that his torn claw, sore tail and cracked scales were starting to slow him up.
I turned to Seth. “Vrox is alive! In a wood somewhere and a bit battered, but he’s shady.”
“We’ll need to scoop him up before he causes any trouble, then. And it looks like you need to rethink your Brarian rota, given this alarm is a sunblasted waste of time,” muttered Seth, glaring at Denzel.
I stared at him, shocked. While I knew Seth disliked Vrox, I’d expected a flicker of relief at his survival, instead of this anger, showing all too clearly his disappointment that Vrox still lived.
Seeing Seth’s stenched mood, Denzel reverted to bowing and stuttering apologies for sounding the alarm, crashing into our sleep and wasting our precious time…
I interrupted him. “It’s good. Me and Vrox generally MindTickle the tanks when there’s no one else around, so why would you know what you’re looking at?”
Denzel drifted back towards the offending tank, looking thoughtful. “So the mantivore also MindSpeaks with the organi-packs, Your Ladyship?”
“Yeah.” Better than anyone else, as it happens. He’s MindLinked to them…
“Because I think I’ve figured out how he survived falling from a window,” continued the Brarian.
“Yes?” I said, a tad too impatiently as he paused.
“I reckon it was a combination of blind luck and then him pulling a bunch of them towards him. But if that’s the case, then the rumours must be true,” yabbered Denzel, shining eyes fixed on the tanks behind us.
“Is it a Brarian thing? Because I haven’t the faintest notion what you’re talking about,” said Seth, frowning.
“My earnest repentances, Your Lordship! I was just trying to put it together… The tank that became over-active – its Codings run the flyer-functions around Gloriosa.”
“Flyer-functions?” Seth looked blank.
“The aerial messenger service, delivery drones, and surveillance units. Oh – and single-seater flyers that taxi people across the city,” I explained.
“And what clever old Vrox must’ve done,” continued Denzel, clearly awed, “was pull either a taxi-flyer or a bunch of passing drones underneath him to break his fall, probably just as his grip slipped. He must have instructed them to either shunt him onto another ledge or somewhere else temporary. While perched there, he called up the Codings so that every piece of flying kit in the surrounding area responded, supporting him down to the ground. We’ve been getting a stream of complaints about non-responsive fly-bots from Armstrong sector, in particular. I’d assumed the tank was non-operational because it was behaving so atypically.” The Brarian looked over his shoulder, then lowered his voice so the guards couldn’t hear. “But the mantivore has access to the Command Codes, doesn’t he?”
“What?” I felt I’d been t
ipped into a slurrypit. If more than a handful of folks know this, then I needn’t worry about being Overlord for much longer – they’ll hoe me and Vrox flat, anyhow.
Denzel bowed once more, before adding, “My repentances if I’ve spoken out’ve turn, but dial me to amazed, Your Ladyship!”
Seth rubbed his eyes. “Given that it’s now gone four in the morning and some of us have things to do, rounding up the mantivore being one of them – I’d appreciate it if you’d pick up the pace.”
“Sorry, sorry, Your Lordship. Word is that when Osmar Brarian got shipped off to The Arids years ago, he stole the Command Codes to the Prime Nodery. After he’d left, apparently there was a time when things got far more exciting around here than they ought and old Trislen Brarian was as much use as a welly-boot in a waterfall.” Denzel shook his head. “Rumour is, they were on the brink of hauling Osmar back from whatever dust-ridden hellhole they’d buried him in…”
My home as it happens!
Seth caught my glance and rolled his eyes.
“…when suddenly things calmed down. The Bullits started behaving themselves – odd messages had been turning up all over the place – and trafcars began running properly, again.” He glanced across at the guards, who were busy in a discussion of their own, further lowering his voice, “Though it had nothing to do with Trislen, who hardly knew his info-mine from his facs-diving. And the way he hauled on the pressureholds…” He clicked his tongue. “It was enough to make any Brarian worth the name want to weep, Your Ladyship. Master Trask was always keen to tell anyone who’d listen that he’d never had any part of the Overlord’s training.” Denzel leaned in, whispering, “But my aunt knew Osmar quite well. And just before they shipped him out, he promised her he’d be back. That the old mantivore they’d locked up down in the keep under Brarian Place for—” He caught sight of Seth’s face and hastily said, “Well, anyhow, he reckoned he’d cornered the beast and got it to memorise all the Command Codes and could MindSpeak it from anywhere on the planet. Auntie always reckoned sooner or later Osmar would return, Your Ladyship. Said you couldn’t keep a bod like that down, and that Trislen wasn’t half the Brarian that Osmar was.”
“Did your auntie share this opinion around?” asked Seth.
“Oh no, Your Lordship! She’d have been MindReamed if she had. I was something of a favourite and because I worked here, in the Prime Nodery, which is a solid honour, she felt I needed to know…”
Arlester smiled reassuringly. “You did exactly the right thing tonight, Denzel. We’re very grateful. And I’m sure we can rely on your further discretion in this matter, can’t we?”
His face flushing with relief, Denzel turned to me. “Of course. Anything I can do to assist you, Your Ladyship! I feel honoured to have witnessed an actual Nodemaster at work. There’s Brarians who reckon they never existed – Master Trask for one. But to actually see someone with your skillset in action – it’s… I’ll never forget this night. Never!”
“Thank you, Denzel. I clearly need to spend more time with the team, here. Maybe talk more about how the organi-packs function—”
Mine! Vrox’s furious response zipped through my head in a blaze of agony.
I took a breath, gritting my teeth against the pain. No – ours. You didn’t make the organi-packs or any of their memories. They’re our TributeDrool – a thing to be cherished and honoured. Which is what Brarians do. Look after and nurture the tanks. Unless you want to move into the Nodery and spend your days tending and cleaning them?
As I coped with his ill-tempered response, interspersed with giddying flashes of his progress through the park, I realised I’d not contacted my fellow Brarians because of Vox’s hostility. Do his opinions regularly affect my decisions? I didn’t know.
“Her Ladyship had some very bad news this evening,” said Seth, reaching for my hand. “And the mantivore’s accident didn’t help.”
I must have been staring at nothing like a sun-blasted field hand. Again. “Sorry… must’ve tranced off,” I muttered.
“MindLink stasis is what it’s known as here, Your Ladyship,” chattered Denzel, bowing again. “A number of the old Overlords used to be prone to it, apparently.” He lowered his voice reverently, looking at me as if I belonged in a museum, “Another aspect of Overlord virtuosity I never thought I’d witness, Your Ladyship.”
Vrox moans, tired, cold and very sore. Wanting to return to his den. Right now.
“We need to collect Vrox.” I turned to Denzel. “Thank you for your trust. I know you took a risk to tell us what you know and I won’t forget it. I’ll be back to see you again. And… earlier – you did the right thing, sounding the alarm. If you need me to, I’ll always come.”
“Your Ladyship!” Denzel bowed, again. “It’s been an honour – and if I may say – a comfort to know that at last, we are safe in the hands of a true Nodemaster.”
I nodded, pulling my robes around me, wishing we really were safe. Because the Nodes weren’t under my control. It was Vrox who had all the Command Codes that impacted upon every aspect of our lives, not me. Arcadia and all its human inhabitants were at the mercy of a grumpy alien, who had every reason to hate us all.
Meantime, we needed to pick him up. Fortunately, as Overlord Brarian, I owned a fleet of trafcars in varying sizes, so was able to order one that would be able to accommodate the mantivore, so long as he sat still. I sent Arlester to bed, while Seth and I rode in the car together along with the one healer prepared to treat the mantivore who Vrox would tolerate.
I was able to use our MindLink to pinpoint exactly where Vrox had holed up, hunkering down in a pile of leaves to conserve his body-heat on the edge of the largest park in Gloriosa. Mantivores naturally roamed throughout Acinos Province, including along the edge of The Arids, so he was designed for a much hotter climate – like me. Though before humans colonised the planet, there had been a sub-species of mantivore, now extinct, that had ranged across Gloriosa Province, larger than Vrox with a pelt of thick bristled fur and tusks.
Vrox tried to force his way into the trafcar, snarling with irritation as the door slowly opened.
The trafcar won’t run if the door won’t close, so don’t break it! Or you’ll be waiting in the cold for another vehicle to come and collect us. Feeling like a nemmet’s leftovers, I was in no mood to cope with Vrox’s temper because he’d spent too long out in the cold, instead of heading straight back to Brarian Place and the warmth of his den, like any sensible vore lord would’ve done. As I told him, when he snarl-swore at me.
He turned his back on me, submitting to Heskon Vore-Healer’s ministrations with far less growling and fuss than usual.
I leant against Seth and dozed in the stuffy warmth of the trafcar, now travelling more slowly due to Vrox’s size and weight. By the time the vehicle rolled through the gates – along with our armed escort – the sky was starting to lighten, though dawn this far from the equator was a far more sluggish affair than the swift sunrise we were used to back home.
Sleep well, Vrox. And thank you for saving me.
Vrox snarls his dismissal of Cub’s inadequate gratitude at his act of courage in jumping onto the windowsill to save her. He stomped out of the trafcar before the door had fully opened, wrenching it out of shape.
I apologised to our driver as Seth and I sleepily stumbled around the bent wreckage, surrounded by a phalanx of armed guards, who didn’t break formation to include the mantivore within their protective cordon. I was too tired to protest, even though I knew I should.
When we finally entered our private chambers, the sky was pearl-grey. I fell onto my bed with a groan. There wasn’t a single cell in my body that wasn’t sore. Seth gently sat on the side of my bed and stroked the back of my hand – about the only part of me that wasn’t scuffed or bruised. “I’m staying. If that’s shady with you, that is.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.” That’s so limp, it needs crutches… What if I kneel up and fling my arms around his neck? Pull him down o
nto the bed alongside me and cover his face with kisses? Is Vrox too sulky, tired and cold to get interested?
Vrox huffs excitedly, thinking this is a fine time for his Cub to finally become a full queen.
So that’s a no, then.
Ignoring Vrox’s disappointed growl, I struggled with my frustration. I didn’t see Seth all that often, these days. Not alone. And when I did, he generally had his nose buried in a datatab or was busy leafing through musty piles of parch. I scrabbled to think of something to say – anything that wouldn’t trigger a quarrel, or have him sigh and let go of my hand.
Clearing my throat, I started to speak. So did he. We laughed. “You go first,” I said.
“I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. About Mai. I know full well she was a scheming woman who threw you away for her own selfish reasons. But you purely don’t need that kind of trouble pitching up at your door, right now.”
I nodded, my throat closing at the kindness in his beautiful voice. He used to pray for me during my nightmares while we were on the run. But he had to stop when we first arrived in Gloriosa, as it was too dangerous. Uncle Trislen would have loved nothing more than to accuse Seth of treason. Recent legislation reinstating the Priest Family and their religion meant that it was no longer illegal, but what with one thing and another, it wasn’t a habit he’d resumed.
“Pray for me, please.”
“Of course.” One of those micro-grins of his flitted across his face. “Lights out,” he commanded, stretching out on the bed alongside me, like he used to when we lived in Pistacia. I curled into him, mindful of my injuries as he began, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…”
Closing my eyes, I breathed in his musky Seth-scent which always smelt like home. Far more so than the lavender perfume that had pervaded our house in Cnicus – except Osmar’s room, of course, where I spent most of my time. But even the smell of Osmar’s piss and shit was more homely than lavender. Because the lavender came with hurtful words, stinging slaps and poisonous glares…
