by A. R. Knight
“Because I was always being threatened, or had Ignos telling me what to do.” I take a hand, swish the water in front of me and watch the waves. “I wanted to explore the city. Try new things. Learn why you called it the greatest place on Earth.”
“I would have shown you, if you’d asked.”
“I know.” I look at Malo again, and he’s sitting by the edge of the pool. “I was scared.”
“Why?”
“Because that would mean doing something for myself. I thought it would be selfish, with Ignos and so many people depending on me.”
“I depended on you too, Kaishi. You depend on you.”
“Wish you’d told me that sooner.” I look back at the green light. It’s easier than staring at that face.
“I’m telling you now.”
“When it’s too late to do anything about it.”
“Is it?” Malo’s using that same joking tone, like when he gave me the pepper-covered fish. “You might have more time than you think. Humanity’s not gone yet.”
“Yet.” I glance towards Malo, and he’s even more shrouded than before. “What should I do, Malo? You’re gone, Ignos is gone. I’m just guessing.”
“What do you think the rest of us were doing?”
I laugh, shake my head and shut my eyes for a second. Take a scoop of the warm water and run it through my hair, over my face.
“Kaishi?” Malo’s voice is different now, more alarmed.
“Yes?” I brush the water away with my arm, clear my eyes.
“I don’t think we’re alone,” T’Oli says, the Ooblot rushing back towards me.
I look past the Ooblot, in the darkness at the far end, and see nothing. There’s no rushing water - like when some of the jungle’s river predators swim towards their prey. But T’Oli’s skimming towards the edge with speed, so I move too. Get out, slip on my clothes, and then yelp when T’Oli slithers onto me and hardens.
“What are you doing?” I manage to ask, glancing at the twin stalks.
“The pool vanishes into another cave at the far end,” T’Oli says, its voice vibrating against me as it slaps himself to make the sounds. “Curious, I went further. There’s a den.”
“A den for what?”
“Have you heard of Fassoths, Kaishi?”
“No?”
T’Oli’s eyestalks twitch the way they often do when it’s about to launch into a long explanation of something or other. I keep my attention, though, on the water, which is now lapping against the near side of the pool. Splashing up on the same rocks that were, a moment ago, serving as my arm rests.
“I did not expect to find one here—” T’Oli starts, and then I see the shadow.
Or rather, the pool becomes the shadow. The green light goes away as a massive dark blob covers it. I grab the torch and hold it out, which lets me see, in glorious orange clarity, the sopping wet, white-haired, huge head that rises up from the water.
I immediately question if it is a head, because there’s no eyes, no ears, no mouth that I can see. Only a furred oval. It’s weird enough that I step back, my booted feet scraping against the rock.
Turns out that’s a mistake. The oval swivels towards me. Starts moving towards the edge of the pool.
“Unless humans have a strong defense mechanism I have not yet witnessed, in which case you should immediately deploy it, I suggest fleeing,” T’Oli says.
“Yeah, we’ve got none of those,” I reply and keep backpedaling.
My running starts as soon as the rest of the creature starts to climb out of the pool. Two thick legs come first, planting clawed feet on the ground. That’s when I recognize what I’m looking at.
T’Oli called them Fassoths, but I’ve seen them before. The Lunare used beasts like these when they fought us in the desert, when they killed the former Charre emperor. Then, we had better versions of the pistols Diego and his cohorts have. Then I had an army.
Now it’s only me, cloaked in an Ooblot, sprinting and stumbling through a dark cave as death comes scrambling after.
Fassoths don’t make any noise of their own. I hear the claws scrape on against the rocks, the thud as the beast’s big body bounces off walls. Or maybe I’m drowning out the Fassoth with my own shouts, because my voice is going full tilt between breaths.
Which is why, when I barge into our makeshift camp, I’m expecting a host of traps set. Weapons drawn and dead-set stares trailing after me, waiting for a chance to lay into the beast.
What I get is nothing. Nobody. Even Vee, the brave Oratus, is gone. Most of our things are still on the ground, though a half-second glance confirms someone snagged the food packs.
“Keep running, Kaishi!” Viera’s voice, from the tunnel Diego said leads onward. “We can’t fight that thing in here!”
Great. I manage to get across the camp before the Fassoth bursts out behind me, a movement made known by the sudden flying of our bed rolls through the air as I duck and run.
“Your odds of outlasting the Fassoth are slim,” T’Oli says as I careen down the tunnel. “Find a place to hide and stay still.”
“Great advice,” I huff. “Let me know when you see a spot.”
The tunnel’s one slim pathway, carved walls giving precisely zero room to slip away. I think, though, that I’m holding my lead until I feel a push on my back that sends me flying. The torch in my right hand goes for a trip, bouncing off a looming boulder and rolling on ahead as I crash into the ground.
A dozen cuts and scrapes open in an instant. T’Oli somehow draws its eyestalks in, hardens them as I roll over, and in the process I get two Ooblot-eye-shaped jabs to my chest as its solid form clogs the space between me and the ground.
All of that pales a second later, though, when the Fassoth pins and pushes me into the floor. I feel snaps in my chest, and spiderwebs of sharp pain ripple out. I scream in there, but I’m pretty sure I black out for a hot moment too.
Survival instinct, though, doesn’t let me go that fast. Neither does Viera - I assume it’s her, because I can’t picture Diego coming back - whose miner unleashes a different kind of crack. The Fassoth must like her as much as I do right then, because it goes charging after the Lunare. Though not before trampling me with its other legs on the way.
Then there’s only me and rock-T’Oli, on the ground in the dark, my torch long gone, as ever-more-distant sounds of miner whines shot ring through the cave.
I can’t move. I mean, I can, but doing so hurts so much that I don’t want to. That I’d rather sit there on the floor and wait for death to find me. Maybe the Fassoth will come back and take me out of my misery.
“Kaishi?” T’Oli says. “Are you still alive?”
“Yes,” I manage, though speaking feels like dredging my voice across hot coals.
“Then we should be moving. The Fassoth, if Viera and the others fail to kill it, will eventually come back for you.”
“Good.”
T’Oli hesitates. I can feel the Ooblot slowly liquidate itself, slide off of me and run through my hair en route to the ground in front of my face.
“Forgive me, Kaishi, but unless I am missing something, I believe the Fassoth’s return would be very not good for you.”
“You’re missing how much everything hurts.”
“Ah. Then that snap I felt was not an idle sound?”
“That was me breaking in half.” I wiggle my toes after saying this and feel a momentary relief that I still can. The Fassoth didn’t actually snap me in two.
“More sarcasm. I’m beginning to think this is how humans deal with difficulty.”
“Now’s not the time, T’Oli.” I close my eyes. Start to take a deep breath and stop immediately. Only shallow gasps from now on.
I can’t just lie here, right?
No.
I test my hands, both hurting from rock-scrapes, and press them against the ground. Push, slide my knees beneath me and rise up, slowly, until I’m standing, then leaning against the side. Spots burst in front of
my eyes in time with the spears of pain coming from my right side.
“Standing is a good start, Kaishi,” T’Oli says. “It will be easier to escape the Fassoth if you can walk.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Can you see anything? Cause I sure can’t.”
“Ooblots, sadly, are not equipped with night vision,” T’Oli says. “I can, however, guide you.”
“Then let’s go.”
I keep my right hand on the cave wall as we go. Every step sends spiking aftershocks up my system, and now that it’s out of immediate danger, my body’s wasting no time reading off a litany of minor wounds covering every part of me that T’Oli didn’t protect. Wrists, knees, elbows, they’re all beat up. I brush off a drop of what I assume is blood from my nose, but I can’t see it on my hand.
There’s plenty of noise in the distance beyond the standard drip-echoes of the cave. Every time I hear a miner blast apart a rock, or the crack of Diego’s pistol, I get a little hopeful. Means one of them is still alive. Though I guess it also means they’re still on the run.
“Kaishi, we have a problem,” T’Oli says.
“Think we might have a few, T’Oli.”
“There are three options here that I can feel. Which way should we go?”
“Towards the sounds?”
“The echoes make it difficult to discern where they’re coming from. Can you tell?”
Hah. Can I tell. That I’m standing ought to be enough of an achievement right now. Every sense I’ve got is playing at half-speed as my mind slogs through an ever-present swamp of pain.
“T’Oli, pick a direction, and let’s go. Worst thing that happens, we find another one of those things and get ourselves eaten.”
“I don’t think Fassoths would be able to eat me,” T’Oli says. “You, however, they would likely find a delightful snack.” I hear T’Oli oozing across the floor. “This way, I think.”
And on we go.
After far too long stepping through the deep dark, I see light. Not white, artificial light like on the Sevora ships, nor the yellow heat like Ignos. But a blue halo coming out of somewhere ahead.
“Know what that is?” I say, dimly aware that I’ve been saying nonsense things to T’Oli for a while now as we’ve trudged through these endless black holes.
The Ooblot responds for a while, answering my pithy complaints with its usual straightforward commentary. It’s refreshing, in a way. T’Oli doesn’t indulge me, just states what’s necessary to say and nothing more.
T’Oli doesn’t change now.
“It’s one of the fungal growths,” the Ooblot says. “Nothing dangerous.”
I stumble on. The pain’s more or less numbed now, owing partly, I think, to my realization that I’m not going to die from my wounds. And if I’m not going to die, I might as well try to live.
We round the corner and the fungus blossoms into full bloom. It’s not a small room but a vast chamber with at least a dozen natural pillars I can see stretching back, all of them coated in the plants. For a moment I forget everything as the dazzling azure sucks away my breath, draws me into the vast maps of sparkling stones coating the walls.
It’s beautiful, stunning, incredible.
So much so that I don’t notice the bones covering the floor until I step on one.
14 Diplomatic Oratus
Solis. Sax hasn’t seen the small world since his birth, or, really, since he first came into consciousness. A gray rock ball with a single, jagged green scar slashing through the barren waste. A creche carved from nothing to grow a species not safe to raise anywhere else. There’s a white dwarf star spinning nearby, close enough to baste Solis with enough heat to allow the Amiggas’ experiment to work. The planet serves as both nursery and teacher, often a fatal one.
The Mobius exits its leap far enough away to see the array of Vincere ships hanging in space around the planet. Enough to make an easy landing impossible.
“This is why we weren’t supposed to come here,” Plake says as the opposing forces become clear. “We’re not getting the Mobius through that force.”
“Then how did Bas expect to land?”
“A single small shuttle,” Plake says. “All I know is that the Flaum piloting it’s on our side. Had some way of sneaking Bas through that.”
“What about the far side?”
Solis isn’t developed. Only a quarter of the planet, so far as Sax knows, is used for the Oratus project, with the rest of it left alone. Probably so the Amigga could add on further creations if they wanted to.
“Even if they don’t chase us down, you’re saying we land and, what, walk all the way over?”
“Not doing that for you, Oratus,” Agra-Red says from behind. “I already think this is a stupid idea.”
“Nobody asked you, Whelk,” Sax fires back.
“Stop,” Plake closes her eyes for a second, then looks again at the terminal. “Looks like they have a pair of smaller frigates, meant for craft like this, and then a big cruiser. Way too big for something like Solis.”
“It’s not meant for fighting,” Sax says. “That’s where they train us, if we survive that long.”
“So it’s a boat packed with Oratus?” Agra-Red says. “Let’s not go there. Ever.”
“Scared?” Sax hisses, giving the Whelk a wicked grin.
“I don’t want to waste the power turning them all to slag,” the Whelk replies, patting the assault miner that never seems to leave its side.
“Wait,” Plake says a moment later. “You’re saying that big ship is packed with Oratus? New ones?”
“A hundred or more,” Sax says. “It can hold thousands, but unless they’ve made it easy for Oratus to earn their letters, it’ll never be near full.”
“Can they be turned?”
Can a weapon be twisted against its wielder? Sax himself is proof that it can, but there’s a difference in the experiences he’s had compared to what the Oratus on that ship, most only just removed from a harsh introduction to life on Solis’ surface, have gone through. Would they turn their backs on the Vincere just after joining it?
“Unlikely,” Sax says finally. “Why would they trust us?”
“Not us,” Plake replies. “You.”
At this, Sax laughs. “Look at me, Plake. I’m a traitor. My scales are bent and burned. I’m sitting on a ship with a ragtag group of outcasts. Why would they care about me?”
Plake looks at her own feathers, and Sax realizes she’s glancing at the part of a Vyphen where medals would hang. Where rank would be established if she wore a Vincere uniform.
“I thought, when they removed us, that I was done,” Plake says. “I was, I am angry. But there’s something you get when the Vincere stop controlling your life. Freedom. Independence. I could choose where to go. My failures were my fault, not because I’d been thrust into an impossible situation without support. Not because the equipment I had wasn’t up to the task.”
“Or you weren’t good enough,” Sax says. The Vyphen weren’t removed only because they were less pliable than the Oratus, but also because they were less effective.
Plake acknowledges this with a slight nod. “Now, though, I get to make my own choices. I don’t do the bidding of anyone but myself unless I want to. Sax, your species hasn’t been given a choice. They never have, and as long as the Chorus exists, they never will.”
“That’s the message you want me to send? That we should fight against the Chorus because otherwise they’ll control us?”
“I think that’s the only message we have. If we can’t turn these Oratus against their creators, then as soon as the Sevora are gone, the Chorus will use them to kill every last one of us.”
If the plan is to get the Oratus to fight back against their creators, they first have to find a way to get Sax onto that large ship. A plan pushed to the forefront when the Vincere frigates take notice of the Mobius hanging out on Solis’ fringes and send a few fighters to investigate.
“Use the escape mod,” Coorvin says
after Plake explains the dilemma, over intercom, to the entire crew. “Send Sax. He can say that he managed to escape.”
“They’ll never believe that,” Plake says. “And Sax is wanted. He’s a known traitor.”
A traitor. Sax hasn’t thought of himself like that, but Plake’s words aren’t wrong. He’s actively working against the creatures that made him, working against the society that’s given him life and, at first, a purpose.
The term, though, is freeing. Sax is a traitor. He’s cast off his chains. He has no obligations anymore.
Except to Bas, of course.
“I’ll do it,” Sax hisses. “Only I’ll need a hostage. Like Coorvin says, they won’t trust that I made it away without one.”
“They’ll still imprison you immediately,” Plake replies.
“But if there’s a bit of doubt,” Coorvin offers. “Even a little, that might give Sax another chance.”
A beeping noise sounds from the cockpit - Vincere craft are getting closer.
“I’ll do it!” the squeaky voice coming from the intercoms has Sax wincing. “I owe Sax that much. Wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t found me!”
Nobaa. Why?
Sax doesn’t have the time, unfortunately, to argue and none of the other crew volunteer, so it’s a swift scramble to get Sax a miner and squeeze him into the escape mod with Nobaa.
“After we kick you, we’re leaping away,” Plake says. “Send a message to Astre’s Spire when you’re ready for pick-up and we’ll come back.”
“We’re going back there?” Agra-Red grumbles. “It’s the most boring—”
“Quiet.” Plake jerks a feathered hand towards the Whelk, though Sax can’t see Agra-Red’s response from inside the cramped mod. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, Oratus, but good luck.”
Sax gives the Vyphen a flash of his teeth, then presses the panel to seal the mod. The door slams shut, the vacuum seals activate, and Sax feels the slight judder as the mod kicks away from the Mobius.
“Do you think Engee will think I’m brave?” Nobaa says. “This is pretty courageous, right? Giving myself up for your grand mission?”
