Willful Child

by Steven Erikson

  Hadrian waved a hand. “No reason for that, Tammy.” The captain looked around to see that all the officers on the bridge were staring at him. Even the security officer, Nina Twice, had shifted her battle stance around to squint up at him. Hadrian sighed. “Tammy, go into the ship archives, will you? Review the earliest contacts the Affiliation had with the Klang—this was shortly after their break from Radulak domination.”

  “Said files are tagged as SECRET, HIGH COMMAND ACCESS ONLY—hey, what are those files doing in the main computer of an Engage-class ship?”

  “Never mind that, Tammy. Crack them open.”

  “High encryption values here—well, high for Terrans, that is. Uh, oh, yes, here we are. Hmmm. Ahh, I see. Well then. Understood, Captain. Please forgive my earlier comments. Do carry on.”

  Hadrian sat. “Carry on, Tammy? How generous of you. Power down the weapons, will you? So, here you are in Klang space like you wanted—what next?”

  “We must return to my recovery coordinates. I have set the course.”

  “So, you really had no further interest in the Klang.”

  “No, just the place where they found me, adrift in space, inactive, horribly damaged, a mere trickle of energy left struggling on to maintain minimum function—”

  “Quit it with the violin music, will you?”

  “Oh, I thought it a nice accompaniment to my description.”

  “You thought wrong. Too big a brush, too much paint. There’s no place on this ship for crass sentimentality.” He raised his voice, “Listen up, bridge officers! In case you’re wondering what just happened with the Klang, well, there isn’t much I can tell you, in truth. Classified and all that. But!” Hadrian raised a finger. “Consider this—what if the Klang joined the Affiliation? How would our enemies see this sudden imbalance of galactic power? What, in fact, would the Radulak do? Or the Ecktapalow? Or the Bisheen Compact? What about the Ahmoose Protectorate? The Yibr-Prol Palladium? What about—”

  “Captain,” cut in Sin-Dour. “Forgive me, but I’ve not even heard of most of those alien alliances you just mentioned.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” Hadrian said. “I made most of them up. But you see my point, don’t you? Balance of power and all that. Besides, we really don’t want the Klang in the Affiliation. Trust me. We don’t. Now, Tammy?”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  Was there a hint of admiration in the AI’s tone?

  “ETA on this recovery point?”

  “Three hours, eleven minutes at present velocity. I have scanned our projected course and note that all Klang vessels are fleeing from our path—suggesting that they have surmised my destination.”

  “Any systems en route?”

  Suspicion entered Tammy’s voice. “Why do you ask, Captain?”

  “Well, any planets? Uncharted, unexplored? Mysterious? That’s right, I’m itching for another surface mission.”

  “The only system on our path, Captain, is the one that marks our final destination. But I assure you, the sole palatable planet in that system is home to early-stage life-forms, presently designated a Pristine Environment by the Klang, and so accordingly closed to all contact.”

  Hadrian rose quickly to his feet. “Early-stage life-forms? Dinosaurs? Brilliant!”

  “Uh, no, Captain. Early-stage, as in, well, Carboniferous.”

  “Giant man-eating trilobites! Millipedes big enough to ride!”

  “It’s a useless planet to visit!” shrieked Tammy.

  Hadrian subsided back into his chair. “All right already. Yeesh.”

  Printlip had been hovering and now something buzzed on the doctor’s unclothed body. Printlip twitched, and then said, “Captain! I must return to sickbay at once!”

  Hadrian waved a hand in dismissal. “Go on, then.”

  “But sir, don’t you want to know why?”

  “Why would I want to know why, Doc? Why, don’t you want to tell me why?”

  “Of course I want to tell you why, sir.”

  “But you didn’t, did you? You just said you had to go back to sickbay at once.”

  “But, sir, I was expecting you to ask—”

  “I know, Doc. Weren’t you in a hurry or something? You buzzed and then got all excited? Now here you are having an inane conversation with me.”

  “I wanted to tell you why I have to go to sickbay immediately!”

  “You wanted, as in past-tense? So, you don’t want to tell me anymore, then.”

  “Captain! The egg has hatched!”

  Hadrian leapt to his feet. “Giant man-eating trilobites! Let’s go, Doc! To the sickbay!”

  SiXTEEN

  “Nurse Wrenchit!” Printlip cried, rushing forward.

  Nurse Wrenchit was lying unconscious on the floor. The aquarium had been knocked over, apparently on her head. The glass had broken and the poor woman was half buried in sand and eggshells.

  Hadrian looked around while the doctor worked on bringing his nurse back to consciousness. “Not promising, Doc. I don’t see the little cutie anywhere. Tammy! You tracked any of what happened here?”

  “No.”

  “Spool back.”

  “Unavailable, I’m afraid.”

  “What? Impossible. Everything’s recorded here, all the time. Why, I can even call up live feeds of crew members undressing in their bathrooms—”

  “No you can’t.”

  “Can’t I? Good grief, what’s the point of being captain, then? But this is sickbay! Of course there’s a recording—go find it!”

  “Unavailable.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “No recordings found.”

  Scowling, Hadrian joined the doctor and crouched down to look at Nurse Wrenchit. His scowl went away. “Now, she’s looking much better.”

  “Captain?” Printlip asked, most of its eyes focusing on a Mediscanner’s holo-chart, but one arching up to peer at Hadrian.

  “I mean, with all the sand gone, of course. Oddly enough, though, I don’t remember interviewing her—Wrenchit, you said? What’s her first name?”

  The Belkri sighed. “Modest skull fracture. No hematoma. Time for some nanogel!”

  “Here, have one of mine,” Hadrian offered.

  “Why, thank you, Captain. Now, as ship’s surgeon, it is my task to interview and then select my staff. This is probably why you are unfamiliar with Nurse Busty Wrenchit.”

  “Well,” said Hadrian, “rest assured I mean to remedy that as soon as possible.”

  “Yes,” said Printlip as it applied the nanogel to the nasty bruise on the woman’s head. “So many crew members for a captain to familiarize himself with.”

  “Speaking of which,” Hadrian said, “shouldn’t we get her off this floor? How about that cot over there?”

  “Yes, she can be moved now. But why that cot—why not the one right here?”

  “No, I like that one, over there.”

  “But it’s across the room. And why not use the antigravity—”

  Hadrian nudged the doctor aside and slid his arms under the unconscious woman. “Don’t be silly. I’ll carry her, of course, as any proper captain would do under the circumstances.”

  “Best not let her head dangle like that,” Printlip said, reaching up in an effort to take the woman’s head. The doctor attempted to follow via one of the mobile trackways, but tripped and fell to the floor as Hadrian walked on. The Belkri rolled until it struck a cabinet. In the meantime, Hadrian was slowly making his way across the room, pausing every now and then to press an ear against the nurse’s chest, to make certain she was still breathing.

  He eventually reached the cot and slowly, carefully, tenderly, set her down—apart from bumping her head against the bedframe.

  Printlip arrived and ran the Mediscanner over the nurse’s brow. “Ah, already setting. Alpha waves normal. Beta, theta … yes, very good. On the mend! That is a relief!”

  “It certainly is,” Hadrian replied, giving the woman’s knee a pat. “Be sure to infor
m her, when she comes round, that her captain attended to her in person.”

  “I will, sir. She will appreciate that, I’m sure.”

  “Not half as much as I did. Now, Doc, seems we’ve got an unidentified alien life-form running loose on my ship. And Tammy has no recording of its escape.”

  “No, there wouldn’t be,” Printlip said. “Since Tammy asked me to deactivate the recording devices.”

  “It did? Why? Tammy! Why?”

  The AI replied, “Well, to make things more interesting, I suppose. I’ve also had the chief engineer do the same in the engine and drive chambers, including the containment access tunnels. And in the combat cupola, although in that instance my reasons had more to do with aesthetics than anything else.”

  “Tammy! That’s idiotic!”

  “Yes it is, isn’t it?”

  “Good, at least we’re agreed on that. Now, try scanning the ship interior—we’re looking for a small life-form, shouldn’t be hard to find.”

  “Actually,” Tammy replied, “there are one thousand seven hundred and twenty-three small life-forms on this ship. Mostly rats and mice.”

  “Rats and mice!”

  “They have their own evolutionary imperatives, you know! Also, we now have about forty Klang pups—presumably spies—”

  “They got past our displacement defenses?”

  “Well, yes. Pretty easy to do. Probably on your person, in fact. I told you before, Captain, most Terran systems are like cheesecloth, all things considered.”

  Hadrian started patting himself down. “Any more eggs on me?”

  …

  “Tammy?”

  “Sorry, it was amusing watching you. No, all have dispersed.”

  “I want all the vermin off my ship! Displace them, dammit! All of them!”

  Printlip waved its hands about. “No, please! My pet alien is among them!”

  “Your point?”

  “It is new to the world, Captain!”

  “It tried to kill your nurse!”

  “Surely that was an accide—oh my.”

  “What”

  “A scalpel and two probes are missing from this tray.”

  “And now it’s armed? Wait a minute, Printlip—who uses real scalpels anymore?”

  Tammy spoke up. “I fashioned them as a housewarming gift to the doctor, along with a pair of finely made bone saws and a cranial drill set. Sorry about that.”

  Hadrian activated his comms. “Security! Two teams to sickbay at once! Shipwide alert! We have a foot-tall alien on board and it is armed!” He turned to Printlip. “See anything else missing?”

  “Uhm … hmm … let’s see … hmm … uhm—where’s the cranial drill set?”

  The door iris opened and two security personnel entered. Hadrian waved a hand. “Search sickbay.” He strode past the two men and stepped into the hallway. “Now,” he said to the remaining green-shirted officers, “the hunt is on. This thing already tried to kill one of my crew. Treat the alien as extremely, appallingly hostile.”

  “Sir,” one of the men said, “you said it is armed.”

  “Scalpel.”

  “Shall we arm ourselves in a like manner, sir?”

  Hadrian studied the man, frowning at his earnest, beetle-browed expression. “Well … your name, Corporal?”

  “Dullspin, sir, Drew.”

  “Well, Dullspin, to answer your most pertinent question, no, I don’t want you to arm yourselves with scalpels. I want you—all of you—to arm yourself with a proper blast-the-shit-out-of-alien-intruder weapon. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir. Maybe … bats, then?”

  “No, Dullspin, not bats. Bats don’t blast.”

  “That’s true, sir. They crush.”

  “So, are you suggesting that you arm yourself with a proper crush-the-shit-out-of-the-alien-intruder weapon?”

  The man’s face beamed. “Yes, sir!”

  “Fine. Distribute … bats.”

  “At once, sir!”

  “Tammy! Can you try some discrimination programming here on your scanners? Weed out the mice and rats. And the Klang—get those Muppets off my ship!”

  “Well, I suppose. But then you’ll insist we displace the rats and mice, along with the Klang.”

  “Why, that’s right, Tammy. I will!”

  “Accordingly,” said the AI, “I am hesitating in complying with your request.”

  “Really.”

  “Historically, rats and mice have been, I have since discovered after considerable research, integral members of any human ship. Now, perhaps they do not wear uniforms and take orders from you, and such, but the very precedent of—”

  “Darwin take me, Tammy! Fine! The rats and mice can stay! But not the Klang spies!”

  “Captain, I feel I should point out the cross-sentient-species potential of mutual understanding and future cooperation now implicit with the arrival of Klang life-forms on board this vessel.”

  “They’re spies!”

  “Well, technically, yes. They are. Even so—”

  “Off my ship!”

  “You would brutally kill puppies?”

  “They’re not Dalmatians! They’re Klang spies! And besides, I’ve already slaughtered a few thousand kittens—what the fuck do I care about a bunch of Muppet puppies? So, here’s the deal, Tammy. Keep the rats and mice, but nix on the Klang. And then find me that scalpel-armed alien!”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I stop talking to you. For good. No teaching anymore from the master. Nada. You’re on your own. And if that’s not enough, I will personally blast to smithereens every speck speaker in every room on this whole damned ship—and if you try to deactivate my weapons, why, my security teams are now armed with bats!”

  “I could simply scroll text via holo.”

  “Every vid speck, too.”

  “You would leave me incapable of any communication with you humans?”

  “You got it. Well?”

  “I’m thinking! Oh all right. But I’m encrypting my discriminator program, and its results. You’ll never find the rat stronghold without it! Nor the mouse not-so-stronghold.”

  A buzz in Hadrian’s jawbone alerted him to a call. “Captain Hadrian here.”

  “Security officer Golan Sideways, sir. We’ve found something fifty-two meters up the corridor. You might want to take a look at it.”

  “You’re sounding nervous, Sideways. Take a deep breath, I’m on my way.”

  Hadrian swung left and started running—

  “That’s down the corridor,” Tammy said.

  Hadrian spun round and ran the other way. As he ran, the AI said, “I should tell you that I am now upset.”

  “You are? What now? Do I run like a girl or something?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think you do. But then, how would I know. Do girls run differently?”

  “Of course,” Hadrian said. “They run like this.” He slowed down and tilted his knees inward, flinging his feet out to the sides, with his bum pitching back and forth. Coming round the corner he came within sight of the security team. They stared at him.

  Hadrian arrived. “Okay,” he said, “here I am. What is it?”

  One man stepped forward. His face was scarred. A stalk of grass was tucked into the corner of his mouth. Squinting at the captain, he said, “Sideways, sir.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Well?”

  The circle of security officers parted and Hadrian saw the small blood-smeared body lying on the floor. “Ah, you got it! Well done!”

  “No, sir,” said Sideways. “Uh, it needs a closer look.”

  So Hadrian joined Sideways in crouching down over the tiny carcass.

  “See, sir? That’s a rat. It’s been skinned and partly quartered—for food, we guess. See that puncture wound there? That’s no scalpel—”

  “No, it’s from a probe,” Hadrian said.

  “So it’s got probes too?” Sideways asked.

  Hadrian nodded.

 
The crowd around him started muttering at that.

  “Used like a javelin, then,” Sideways said, looking up the corridor and squinting as he chewed his length of straw. “Take a look at the rat’s skull, sir.”

  “Oh dear. It’s been drilled. I forgot to mention that. The cranial drill set, I mean.”

  Still squinting up the corridor, Sideways nodded. “Got it, sir. Alien. Armed with a scalpel, probes, and a cranial drill set.”

  Hadrian stared across at the man. “I bet you all think I run like a girl now, don’t you?”

  Sideways flinched. Sweat trickled down his temples, but he would not meet Hadrian’s gaze as he said, “Not at all, sir. People got lots of ways of running. I mean, there ain’t no right way, is what I’m saying. We all think that,” he added, straightening and looking to his team. “Ain’t that right, fellas?”

  They all murmured their assent, except for the lone woman, who was scowling.

  Hadrian looked down at the skinned rat again. “Well, Tammy?”

  “I told you I was upset. This was an innocent rat. Just minding its own business.”

  Rubbing at his jaw, Hadrian said, “The alien arms itself. Its first task? Food procurement. Thus, the missing haunch. As for the skin? Clothing, or bedding. The hole in the skull? I don’t know. Dessert? All right. What next, I wonder?”

  “Exploration of territory?” Sideways suggested. “Looking for a mate, maybe?”

  “No,” said Hadrian. “Before that.”

  “Shelter?”

  “Exactly. To eat and rest up. All right, everyone. Search out the cubbyholes. Cabinets, footlockers, travel trunks, closets. Spread out!”

  As the team headed off, Hadrian stared down at the tiny carcass. “Tammy? Localized it yet?”

  “Hmm, that’s proving a problem, Captain.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’ve got all the rest, I mean. The rodents, the Muppets. But, for the moment, at least, I’m not finding anything else.”

  “Could be cold-blooded.”

  “That did occur to me. Negative on nonthermal sensors. If I had to guess, Captain, some innate ability in this unknown alien is making it virtually stealthed.”

  “Crap. All right, then. We know one thing for sure. It will hunt down and kill and eat rats. So speck-tag the rats. All of them. Might as well do the mice while you’re at it.”