Willful Child

by Steven Erikson

  “Ooh is that a camera? We like cameras.”

  “Love me love me can you breathe kitten? Let’s find out.”

  The blaster ignited. Kittens exploded in puffs of fur. A wild panic gripped Hadrian and he kept shooting, shooting, shooting.

  Behind the captain, Buck was screaming. “Hurry, Captain! You’re close! Now, turn and run!”

  Loosing another salvo amid deafening meowing, Hadrian spun round and launched himself through the gate after Printlip and Buck. There was a bright flash of light.

  He tumbled out to come to a rest against booted feet. Blinking, looking up, he found Lieutenant Sweepy Brogan staring down at him. She puffed on her stogie for a moment, and then pulled it out and said, “I take it none of you ran into my squad, did you?”

  Hadrian climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. His shirt was torn, shredded, and snarled with vicious burrs. “You sent them through? They must’ve landed somewhere else. Crap. We could’ve used more firepower. Like, say, a nuke.”

  “That bad, was it?”

  He noted the avid gleam in her dark, smoldering eyes—no, that was the stogie—her dark, steely eyes. “A bloody nightmare beyond all nightmares, LT. I doubt even you could sleep at night after witnessing what we just witnessed.”

  “I’m impressed, sir. You were gone, what, ten minutes? And by that red blinking light, I’d say your blaster’s exhausted. Outstanding.”

  “I’ll debrief you later, LT. Your quarters or mine?”

  “Mine, sir, it’s more private.”

  Hadrian offered her his brightest smile. “Why, LT, we could debrief each other.”

  “Sound plan, sir.”

  “Just deep-six the stogie, will you?”

  “Sir, where would you like me to deep-six it?”

  “Now hold on there—”

  “Captain!” shouted Buck. “The whole gate’s vibrating!”

  “Oh, I thought that was just me.”

  “Something’s coming through!”

  Everyone scattered and a moment later the squad of marines backed into view, their weapons still blazing at whatever was still beyond the gate. They were covered in gore, and at least two troopers were badly wounded.

  “I AM THE MASTER OF—OH SHIT, HOW DID YOU RUN INTO THEM? UNPLUG ME! UNPLUG ME!”

  Buck threw himself into the shrub hiding the power unit, and moments later had torn both wires from the box.

  A hologram flashed up briefly, forming a flickering wall sealing the gate. It said: TEMPORARILY OUT OF ORDER. REPAIR DISPATCH CONTACTED. WE APPRECIATE YOUR SERVICE AND WILL BE IN OPERATION AGAIN SHORTLY. Then, with a soft hissing sound, the image disappeared.

  Sweepy glanced at the Combat Pentracorder on her wrist. “Zero energy readings, sir. The gate’s dead as a secret cross-dresser making a pass at a Fundamentalists’ bachelor party.” A moment later she turned to her gunnery sergeant. “All square now, Gunny?”

  “Aye, LT,” Muffy replied through a partly smashed speaker grille on his helmet.

  “Hairy, was it?”

  “Hairier than my ma’s—”

  “Enough of that, Gunny. There’s gentlemen present. All right, then, scoot back to the ship and get cleaned up—you stink of fear.”

  “That would be shit and piss, LT.”

  Sweepy lit up another stogie with a marine-issue Multiphasic Universal. “Dismissed, Muffy. And since I’ve got no Sad Letters to write, no, I ain’t interested in your report.”

  “You got it, LT.” Muffy staggered off.

  Hadrian looked around. “So you found the adjutant and sent her back with Sin-Dour, then?”

  “Huh. About that, sir.”

  “Oh my. That doesn’t sound good.”

  “We believe she’s been kidnapped by the Radulak. A scout craft landed shortly after we did. And then took off again, rockets set at BOWMAOF.”

  “I’m sorry, rockets set at what?”

  “Bug-Out-with-My-Ass-on-Fire.”

  “Shit. Tammy!”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “How did you miss noticing a damned scout craft entering the atmosphere of this planet?”

  “I was preoccupied.”

  “With what?”

  “Well, with the Radulak Bombast-class warship fast closing on our position, if you must know.”

  TWELVE

  Hadrian strode onto the bridge and took his seat.

  Polaski said, “Captain! The commander of the Radulak ship is hailing us!”

  “In a minute,” Hadrian said. “Shipwide intercom, please. This is the captain. As an addendum to my last shipwide announcement, any crew member caught posting kitten pictures anywhere on this ship will not only be personally executed by me. I will also hunt down all your relatives and friends and kill them, too. Carry on. Captain out. Now, Polaski, the Radulak. On viewer.”

  The bridge of the Radulak ship dripped with slime. Seated in a massive throne was a huge, hulking figure in shiny black leather. Drool sagged in glistening threads like tangled webs from the alien’s wide, fang-studded mouth. The three eyes that made a straight glowering line over the mouth were tiny and red-rimmed. A multitude of nostrils pocked the alien’s leathery cheeks, chin, and forehead. When it spoke, snot and mucus sprayed out from various nostrils, and spit erupted with every word. “I am Drench-Master Drown-You-All-in-My-Magnificence, Third Rate, of Radulak Bombast-class warship I Leave You Half-Eaten at Horrible Brunch with In-Laws, and I intend to destroy you utterly.”

  “That’s hardly a civil welcome, Drench-Master Drown-You-All—hey, listen, have you got a shorter name than that?”

  “As you wish. My given name is Bill.”

  “Bill?”

  The Radulak leaned forward and raised a gnarled fist. “It is a perfectly honorable Radulak name! Is it our fault you humans steal all of our best names? No! It is not! More proof of human inferiority in all things! Come up with your own names, human scum!”

  The commander was no longer visible as that outburst slathered everything in sight. After a moment, there was a blurred gesture from the Radulak and a small, narrow-headed Muppetlike alien appeared from one corner, and with deft strokes swept a squeegee across the screen.

  Hadrian caught Polaski’s eye and made a chopping motion with one hand. His cousin frowned. The captain stood, marched over to comms, and stabbed the cutoff switch. Then he wrapped his hands around Polaski’s scrawny neck and leaned forward. “Now listen carefully, so I don’t have to choke you. See this—see me slash across your neck, like this? Like this? Got it? When I do that, it means cut transmission! Understand?”

  Gurgling and blotchy-faced, Polaski managed a nod.

  Hadrian turned away, and then swung round and whapped his cousin on the back of the head. Massaging his bruised hand, the captain’s brows lifted. “Hey, that reminds me of when we were kids at the summer house! Happy days back then, eh, Polaski?” He made to return to the command chair, only to swing back and whack his cousin again. “Ah, see how nostalgic you made me?” He resumed his seat. “Now, then. Sin-Dour!”

  “Captain?”

  “Can you scan that Bombast monstrosity?”

  “Not without triggering its automated defense systems, sir. Visual survey indicates nine hundred and fifty-four weapon hardpoints. Oh, and as you know, sir, the Radulak form of communication is at least seventy percent, uh, liquid. Pheromones, innumerable enzymes, hormones, and a whole stew of—”

  “I am well aware of all that, 2IC,” said Hadrian. “There is nothing in the galaxy more disgusting than two Radulaks having a conversation. Well, if you can’t scan that ship, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” He waved at Polaski. Who stared. “Resume transmission, you twit!”

  The Radulak commander reappeared on the viewer.

  “All right,” said Hadrian. “It’s like this, Bill—no, dammit, I can’t do it. My motorcycle mechanic was named Bill.”

  “Then he stole my name and should be torn limb from limb!”

  “With what he charged—for crap s
ervice, mind you—I’m inclined to agree with you, Commander.”

  “Drench-Master!”

  “Okay, Drench-Master.”

  The Muppet alien reappeared from the same corner and wiped the screen clean again.

  The Radulak gestured and a pathetic figure was pushed into view. It dripped slime from head to toe. Bill flared all its nostrils. “Yes, Captain! This is one of yours, yes? I found it on the planet below. As you can see, I have interrogated it. And now I know everything!”

  “Oh well,” sighed Hadrian, “so much for the hard way. You know everything, do you, Drench-Master?”

  “Yes! And so, I offer this to you, even though I know humans to be liars, murderers, cheats, and eggshell dry. We will make an exchange, Captain—you, what is your name?”

  “Hadrian Alan Sawback, commanding the Willful Child.”

  “That is an alien name. It makes my spine drip sick-bile. No matter, I must swallow my vomit at least for a little while longer. The exchange is this. We send you this female Morning Discharge, and you send us the Talking Box known as Wynette Tammy. A simple process. We place the female in a Keep-Alive Pod and send it to the halfway point between us. You do the same with Wynette Tammy. Then we exchange! What do you say?”

  “A little while ago, you said you were going to destroy us.”

  “Did I? A moment. I must consult.”

  A number of other Radulak now crowded the drench-master. Spit, drool, and gobs flew. Incidental misfires struck the screen again, and the Muppet returned with its squeegee, until a stray mass of phlegm engulfed its narrow, oblong head, knocking it over. The consultation ended when Bill drew out a weapon of some sort and blew off an advisor’s head.

  The drench-master waved the others away and leaned forward to flare its nostrils at the screen. “We are agreed. I never said anything of the sort. It was your imagination, human. Either that, or you are lying.”

  “You want us to play it all back for you, Drench-Master?”

  “No! I offer you the exchange! Accept the deal or die!” It prodded Tighe with the barrel of its pistol.

  She lifted her sodden, slathered face. “C-Captain! Please! Save me!”

  Hands reached out and dragged the adjutant away.

  “Drench-Master, what’s your beef with Tammy Wynette?”

  “Beef?”

  “Bone to pick, then.”

  “Bone to pick?”

  “Why’s Tammy up your ass?”

  The Radulak pounded a fist on the arm of its throne. “Horrible hunting mind-set! You humans are terrible creatures! We should all gang up and destroy every one of you!”

  “Oh come now, Dren—hold on, we don’t hunt up anyone’s ass. Anyway, do calm down, will you? We need to consult on this end, in private.”

  “You need to concoct lies and deceits and betrayals, is what you mean.”

  Hadrian turned to Polaski and gestured. The man stared, flinched, and then frantically cut transmission.

  Settling back in his chair, Hadrian said, “Tammy?”

  “What?”

  “Why do the Radulak want your head? What did you do to them?”

  “None of this is relevant, Captain. I refuse to be extracted and sent over to the Radulak. Sad to say, it would be wise to write off poor Lorrin Tighe right now. I have primed the Dimple Beam—”

  “Not a chance! Belay that!”

  “I’m not going!”

  “That’s fine. I wouldn’t have done that even if I knew how. Relax, will you? Galk!”

  “Captain?”

  “Head down to Deck Twenty and rig up a stealthed antimatter bomb and put it inside a cargo crate. Have the ignition linked to two seconds postdisplacement and/or resumption of gravity. Got that, Galk?”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  “Inform me when it’s ready to send across. All right, Polaski, resume the feed.”

  A Radulak was standing very close to the screen, using a limp Muppetlike thing to wipe down the lens. Noticing Hadrian, it ducked out of sight.

  “Well, Captain Hadrian?” Bill demanded from its throne.

  “It wasn’t easy, Drench-Master, but we have managed to extract Wynette Tammy from our mainframe. We are packing his central Identity Matrix Unit into a crate.”

  “Good. We will do the same with the female human.”

  “Obviously,” said Hadrian, “for this to work, we’re going to have to trust each other.”

  “Of course, Captain. After all, if you send us, say, an empty box, we will fire all weapons and obliterate you.”

  “We won’t. This is all legit, Drench-Master.”

  “Hmph, we shall see, won’t we?”

  “Captain, this is Galk. Package ready to send, sir.”

  “Ah,” said Hadrian. “Did you hear that, Drench-Master? Good. So, midrange point, correct? And then what, we displace the items to our respective ships?”

  “Yes. Maintain your distance, Captain, as our ship’s superior displace-inhibitor field extends well beyond our hull!”

  “Just as we have similar countermeasures to unauthorized displacement, Drench-Master. No worries. A moment, please. Format Command: split the screen, external view, forward, and Radulak bridge continuous. There, perfect.”

  The Radulak must have done something similar, for Bill was leaning far forward now, two of its three eyes fixed on something to one side. Drool spooled endlessly from the alien’s gaping mouth. “We see the crate, Captain Hadrian.”

  “There are modest thrusters affixed to the frame, Drench-Master, to halt the object at the agreed-on midway point.”

  “Yes, we see them. Mass indicates that the crate is indeed not empty. Very good, Captain. See now, we are sending you the female.”

  “So noted, Drench-Master.”

  A few moments later both objects halted side by side in space with about four kilometers between them.

  Bill leaned back, nostrils opening wide all over its ghastly face. “We have a lock on the crate, Captain. Our systems have overwhelmed its guidance command hub!”

  “I’m sorry,” Hadrian said, “but is that display of processing prowess supposed to impress me?”

  “Bravado, human? I am not surprised.”

  “Now then,” said Hadrian, “we have a lock on the adjutant. Are you ready for the exchange? Shall we release the gravity snares on our respective offerings?”

  “Yes.” Bill held up a nubby finger. “I will press the button when you do the same.”

  Hadrian held up his middle finger. “Here’s mine,” he said, smiling.

  “Good. Are you ready? Excellent. We mutually release the gravity snares. One, two, three…” The Radulak stabbed down and Hadrian did the same.

  Bill’s nostrils flared, and then snapped shut. “You didn’t release your crate!”

  “You didn’t release the pod, Drench-Master.”

  “Didn’t I? Oh. I must have missed. Hah hah.”

  “Shall we try it again?”

  “Yes, and this time, for certain, Captain.”

  “Why not?”

  Buttons were pressed.

  “Captain,” reported Polaski. “We have her and … and … and … and … yes, she’s alive!”

  On the screen, phlegm slammed into the lens. “Now we have Wynette Tammy—and now you die!” Bill cocked his head. “What? Report!” Gobs slammed into the side of its head. “Oh, the lower half of my ship has just disintegrated, has it? Cascade effect? Captain Hadrian!”

  “Yes?”

  “You have betrayed me! Liar! Cheat!”

  “You were about to kill us, Drench-Master.”

  “Was I? Let me consult on the matter—oh, no time—”

  On the screen, the view of the Radulak bridge went dark. The external shot went very bright.

  Hadrian said, “Captain to sickbay. Doc, the adjutant needs cleaning up. When that’s done, send her to her quarters and tell her to throw on something more comfortable. I’ll be there shortly.” He stood. “In the meantime, well done, everyone—
no, not you, Polaski, but everyone else. As for me, I’ll just change into a new uniform—”

  “Captain!” cried Jocelyn Sticks. “Another Bombast-class ship has just appeared in-system!”

  “Oh, really? Crap on everything! Galk! Rig us up another bomb, will you?”

  “Aye, Captain. How about I do four or five, just to save time, at least until we leave Radulak space?”

  “Sound plan, Galk. Proceed. In the meantime … Helm! Take us behind the planet and match speeds with the Bombast.”

  “Sir, how will I know—”

  “The Radulak run everything at full tilt, Lieutenant. For a Bombast-class, that’s six point three-two-four, come hell or high water.”

  Was that an admiring look from the lovely Joss Sticks? Hadrian offered her a warm smile. “It’s the captain’s job to know such things, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Puffing his chest—but not obviously, no, more in a subtle way intended to make it seem incidental—Hadrian strode to his office. He paused just outside the door and swung around. “Oh, and have someone mock up a Bombast silhouette, one to a hundred and ten scale, and get a drone to slap it on our hull, next to the Misanthari Swarm-Mother ship. Two jaw-dropping kills for an Engage-class Terran starship, wouldn’t you all say? Carry on, everyone.”

  In his office, Hadrian tugged off his tattered shirt. From his clothes cabinet he selected a much thinner, stretch-every-which-way sky-blue polyester shirt with gold piping on the cuffs, collar, and lower hem. Taking his seat behind the desk, he opened the lower drawer and drew out a bottle of cologne. He flicked some onto his palm, dabbed his cheeks and neck, and then dried his hand on his flat, muscular belly just above his belt. “Tammy, you’ve been quiet of late.”

  “I was just sitting back and admiring your capacity for treachery, Captain.”

  “Just do as I say and not as I do, Tammy. Besides, Bill was planning the old double cross anyway. Just like old times. Eighty fucking credits for a reconditioned flywheel. I mean, who was he kidding?”

  “‘Ye shall sow what ye shall reap.’ Is that not the human saying?”

  “Don’t think so. I think it’s ‘So and doh ray me,’ actually. In any case, it should by now be obvious to you that I was born to this.”