by Sara King
“I don’t want to fight ganshi,” Milar muttered. “If you’d heard David Landborn’s stories…”
“Is Landborn hundreds of years old?” Tatiana demanded, irritated at the backwater colonists’ ridiculous superstitions about a war that ended a hundred and forty years ago.
Milar blinked. “Well, no, but…”
“And did a war between the AlphaGens and the Tritons ever happen on Fortune?” Tatiana demanded.
“Well, no…” Milar said, stumbling.
“So if David Landborn never fought them and they were never actually here, then he’s just spewing bullshit he’s heard, and the ‘ganshi’—” she air-quoted for emphasis, “—that people have been seeing up in the Tear are probably just melanistic jaggles.” She paused, realizing she was speaking to an under-educated colonist. “Black jaggles. It’s a recessive color gene.”
Milar appeared unconvinced.
“There is working tech down there,” Tatiana prodded. “You have a gun. If they attack us, you can kill them.”
“Ganshi specialized in stalking and executing the most dangerous super-soldiers the Coalition could make during the Triton Wars,” Milar growled. “How, exactly, would you suggest I kill them?”
Tatiana shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Bring your flashlight. I think I can see a door down there.” She ducked back into the darkened metal hallway.
“Dammit, Tat!” She heard Milar hastily step into the tunnel with her. His tactical flashlight brilliantly illuminated the tunnel beyond, which was crafted from some opaline white material that reminded Tatiana of ceramic when she touched it. She could see several junctions heading off at much-too-sharp, sometimes-downward-facing angles.
“I do this under protest,” Milar muttered behind her.
They hadn’t gone more than twenty meters when she rounded the corner of an intersection and saw five sets of eyes reflecting back purple from Milar’s floodlight, their tiny bodies all gray and striped, not even coming to Tatiana’s knees.
“Cubs,” Milar grated, like he was talking about a steaming puddle of cholera-infested diarrhea.
“See?” Tatiana cried. “They’re not even black. Striped, Milar. Some weird genetic disorder. We’re good.”
There was a metallic jingle as Milar nonetheless pulled an automatic assault weapon over his shoulder and took aim at the cuddly baby jaggles.
“Hey!” Tatiana cried, grabbing the barrel. “You can’t be serious! They’re kittens.”
“Jaguars aren’t striped. That makes them ganshi.” He sighted down the barrel again…
…except the cubs were gone.
“Dammit,” Milar cursed. “C’mon. Let’s go get ’em.” Meaning he wanted to stalk and shoot the poor defenseless jaggle cubs.
“Ganshi are all black,” Tatiana retorted, yanking the gun away again. “And they have green eyes. Black with green eyes. That’s what all the textbooks said. The Tritons gave them the black recessive for nighttime raids on colonist villages. Those jaggles had purple eyes and gray fur, Miles. They’re adorable.”
“They’re dangerous,” Milar snapped. He lifted his gun again, peering through the night-vision scope at something in the distance.
“I want one,” Tatiana said.
Milar hesitated, then slowly tore his eye away from the scope. “Huh?”
“For a pet,” she said. “I want a jaggle for a pet. Then, once we get the inviso-shield, I’ll cloak him with invisibility and he can stalk around beside me and eat bad guys. Scare the shit outta one of my Nephyr friends, that’s for sure.”
Milar lowered the gun again, cocking his head at her like he was doing a math problem. I think she’s got a few screws loose.
“Noooo,” Tatiana said, “if I had screws loose, I would be hemorrhaging blood from my aorta or leaking spinal fluid onto the dirt.”
Milar swallowed. “Okay, not a good image.”
“No shit. Now go bag me a jaggle. Here. You can use my shirt.” She pulled off her gore-encrusted shirt and handed it to him, then ushered him onward to go find the five puffs of striped gray cuteness. Milar took the shirt. He did not bag her a jaggle.
Handing the shirt back, Milar said, “I don’t think so.”
Tatiana grimaced down at her shirt, then at the dark corridor containing the cuddly jaggle cubs, then back up at the brute. “I just saved your ass from like eighty Nephyrs that planned to skin you alive.” Tatiana frowned. “Maybe ninety. Was kinda hard to tell the way they were all spread around like that.” She shook herself. “Anyway, I deserve a jaggle.”
“No. Those things hunt and eat people.”
“Which would be so cool!” Tatiana cried.
Milar gave her a long look.
Tatiana sighed, deeply, and yanked her shirt back over her head. “Fine. It would probably pee on stuff, anyway.” She glanced down the main corridor. “Now come on. Somewhere in here is the key to invisibility, and we’re gonna find it.” She walked around the downward-angled corridor and moved deeper into the huge, slanting opalescent tunnel, the walls of which contained little flecks of iridescence that made her itch to chip a few chunks off and get it checked by a gemologist—opals, she knew from a rock nut who had once shared a barracks room with her, were extremely hard to make, much less find.
“That was it?” Milar called behind her. “No whining? No begging?” He looked deeply suspicious.
…as well he should be. As soon as he fell asleep, one of those cuddly little munchkins was hers.
I can read your mind, twit.
D’oh. “Hey, look at this!” Tatiana ran a few more steps into the ship and stopped at an opalescent wall that was mentally broadcasting, Welcome to Engineering Bay 33992. Do you wish to open? at her.
“Look at what?” he asked, walking up beside her. “The wall?”
Yes, I wish you to open, Tatiana thought.
As you wish. Then she gave a delighted giggle as, voila, like magic, the otherwise perfect wall began to part and slide open. “Abracadabra!” she cried, grinning. “No wonder they could never figure out how to open Aashaanti—”
The door opened to another corridor, which ended in a ragged, broken-off, vine-choked door with more jaggles staring at her. Big ones. Black ones.
Close, Tatiana thought quickly. I wish you to close.
As you wish. The door slid shut as the big, green-eyed jaggles were lazily getting up and padding curiously towards her. Tatiana swallowed, hard, realizing the cats stalking towards her had been as tall as she was.
“Those,” Milar whispered, falling into a crouch, “were ganshi. Oh shit, Tat. Shit.”
Tatiana swallowed, still somewhat shell-shocked at the size of the creatures. She had thought it was just a dumb colonist superstition. The Tritons had never made it this far into the Outer Bounds…had they?
Milar began whipping his tactical light back and forth, his assault rifle making metal clicks as he searched the shadows around them for predators.
As he was scanning the tunnel deeper into the complex, Tatiana saw a shadow cross the entrance behind them.
“Milar!” she cried, twisting him around. Milar spun, his fear palpable in the narrow space of the corridor.
A sound from behind them made Tatiana swivel. A moment later, Milar’s gun revealed a massive shadow bounding past before disappearing into an adjoining corridor.
“Why didn’t you shoot it?” Tatiana hissed.
“Shooting them,” Milar grated, “just makes them mad. They heal fast, and their fur is a flat, crisscrossed, layered form of biological tovlar. Fuck!”
“Which means what?” Tatiana babbled, as another shape slipped through another of the honeycombed corridors, closer this time.
“It means they’re bulletproof,” Milar snapped.
Another shadow flashed by, making them back deeper into another corridor.
“They’re herding us, Miles,” Tatiana whispered, getting cold chills. “They’re keeping us away from the exit.”
“I ca
n see that,” Milar growled.
“Okay,” Tatiana said, panic rising, now. “Okay. Let’s get out of here. Just start shooting and—”
Welcome to Engineering bay 33992. Do you wish to open?
Yes, please.
Tatiana frowned and looked behind her.
As you wish, the door said.
“No,” Tatiana babbled, “don’t—”
Then the door slid open, revealing three enormous black ganshi on the other side. There was no mistaking the smug expressions on their feline faces, and as she watched, their glistening upper canines elongated like cobra fangs, translucent even in the dim light.
“Oh God,” Tatiana whispered.
As Milar spun to swing his rifle around, one of the ganshi reached out and slammed its chest-sized paw into the side of her colonist’s head. Milar crumpled like a puppet that had lost its strings.
Now, the closest black kitty thought, its green eyes glittering with predatory amusement, let’s see how the little cyborg likes to scream…
CHAPTER 11: Encephalon
18th of May, 3006
North Tear
Fortune, Daytona 6 Cluster, Outer Bounds
The massive ebony feline took a deliberate step forward, obviously enjoying Tatiana’s terror. Up close, its fur looked matted, almost dirty. Like a saber-toothed cat, its fangs dropped below its jawline, but quite unlike a saber-toothed cat, they retracted as she watched, pale crystalline in color before slipping back out of sight under the ebony whiskers.
Ganshi, Tatiana thought, her heart pounding wildly. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. She had backed into a wall, Milar’s body a motionless heap on the ground between her and the cat.
Ow. That must be coming from her forehead node. Definitely not standard operator equipment. Ow, my head…
A moment later, the cat batted Tatiana almost casually to one side, knocking her down the corridor with the force of a razor-spiked building. Tatiana must have shrieked in her mind as well as out loud, because immediately, the ship said, Archon, do you need assistance?
Yes! Tatiana cried. Me and my friend. Help! Send the shredder bots!
There was a moment of hesitation, then, The Phage Containment Defense Grid is controlled by the heartship. We have no control over that system.
The ganshi padded toward her slowly, oozing smugness. This one’s stupid and helpless. The other ones were just stupid.
Please help us, Tatiana whimpered. Please. She was bleeding everywhere, and one of her major stomach-nodes had been dislodged from the fall. Already, she was feeling stomach acid leaking into her abdominal cavity…
The ship seemed to hesitate a moment. Then, Our own defense grid is down, but We can relocate you.
The matted-furred ganshi stepped on her with a gigantic paw and leaned down to sniff her. Its green eyes narrowed. It smells like Aashaanti. Why does the little twit smell like Aashaanti?
From the darkened corridor, a massive gray striped ganshi with startlingly purple eyes was slinking up, broadcasting fury that a human had been near her kittens. The black ganshi quickly backed away, only for the bigger, striped one to slam her gigantic paw into Tatiana’s chest, snapping ribs. Before Tatiana was fully aware of the pain of that, she felt the claws extrude, felt them pierce the muscle of her chest, felt the paw violently jerk downward. Relocate us! Tatiana shrieked, even as she felt the agony arc through her torso as the claws sliced through solid bone.
As you wish. A moment later, Tatiana found herself seemingly spinning in space, her stomach doing loops before she solidified an inch above a gel-like, almost rubberized floor, then dropped to its cushioned surface.
It’s been a long time since We could talk to a hive member, the ship told her with barely disguised enthusiasm. Too long. Our resources dwindle. We thought We would die before We got the chance again.
Tatiana groaned and sat up, expecting to see herself oozing blood and organs over the floor.
Instead, her body was completely intact, her nodes totally unharmed.
What species is your alien friend? the ship asked, as she stared down at herself in shock. Aside from an old entry of a stone-throwing primitive in another galaxy, there’s nothing similar in Our registry.
Tatiana was still stuck on the idea that she had seen her own heart before the ship transported her.
Oh, We assumed you wanted your physicalities intact, the ship explained. Were We incorrect?
“No!” Tatiana cried. “You were correct, correct!”
Thought so. The ship sounded…amused? Tired?
She glanced at Milar, saw that he was still sleeping peacefully, then she realized she was talking to a sentient alien ship and froze. Wait. Are you…flyable? The thought came on a giddy wave of excitement.
There was palpable wistfulness on the mental wave. No, and your transport cost Us quite a bit of Our reserves, plus speaking with you requires more power that We cannot replace. We have maybe three more local planetary revolutions before We succumb.
Three days. Tatiana froze. How long if you don’t talk to me?
Several of this planet’s solar-cycles, at least. Hibernation requires very little attention.
Then hibernate! Tatiana cried. We’ll find some way to keep you going.
After eons of solitude, We find this much more interesting.
Do it! Tatiana ordered. Right now.
There was an awkward moment of silence. Then, As a former hivemate death-conglomerate, the Solid State Accords clearly state you cannot give Us a command We would not normally obey in life. We understand your concern, Archon, but please refrain from such domineering directives in the future. As a hiveship, We outrank you, and it is Our choice whether or not to accept your requests, and your last one irritated Us.
Tatiana swallowed, wondering what horrible things could happen to her if she ‘irritated’ a sentient alien spaceship.
Many things, the ship said, sounding even more amused. We could crush you, transport half of you, vent you into space, remove your oxygen, replace your atmosphere with water or noxious gasses, transport you into a wall, replace your blood with metal, insert microbes into your food—
Tatiana swallowed. “Yeah, okay. I get the picture.” She glanced at Milar again. “Is he going to be okay?
Your alien friend is as close to undamaged as We could make him, going so far as to remove old traumas to the dermis, though We retained the superficial dermal pigmentation, as that was quite obviously intentional.
Tatiana frowned, glanced at Milar, and found that, indeed, Milar was no longer sporting surgical scars. She stared at that in stunned awe for moment, then she giggled at the thought of government goons trying to figure that one out, as one of the key identification factors on their list was ‘extensive surgical scarring throughout body.’
Why no I’m not a wanted criminal, sir, Tatiana thought, giddy, I just got these tattoos last week…
Your alien friend is probably sleeping due to mental exhaustion, the ship went on. Your communication pulses have been erratic, Archon—we are surprised lesser life-forms have withstood the barrage at all.
Remembering dozens of ‘lesser life-forms’ that had not withstood her barrage, Tatiana flushed and quickly changed the mental subject. “So…” Tatiana swallowed, looking around the room. “Where’d you drop us?” It appeared to be some sort of command center made of the same opaline substance of the corridors, though the lights were multi-colored and coming from several directions, casting the shadows in odd colors and places, leaving her slightly off-balance. The floor and about four feet up the walls seemed spongy, layered with a thick rubber texture that she could poke her finger several inches into if she tried, and there seemed to be an odd plant growing in one corner, under a deep red light.
This is the archon quarters of the fallen hiveship 256399ZZZZ523ZZZZ, collectively called Encephalon by our inhabitants. As the last archon was locked away in the heartship Wandering Spirit for his own safety after our other four succumbed to the Phage, the room is c
urrently unoccupied and now at your disposal.
The way the ship said it gave Tatiana the uneasy feeling it planned for her to stay.
“Um,” Tatiana said, “I’ve really gotta get going. You said you’re running on three days of juice. We’ve gotta go get a backup generator or something.”
There was hesitation on the ship’s part. We think you misunderstand the size of this ship, Archon, it finally said.
Tatiana frowned. “Misunderstand how?”
We currently have two million legs of ship corridors to keep in operational condition…on this layer alone. The craft initially had eight hundred spiralform layers, but six-sevenths of them sheared off in the crash. Still, with what is left buried, We find it difficult to believe you can gather enough young to produce a power source of sufficient size to stabilize Us in the time allowed.
Tatiana swallowed, hard. Two million legs of corridors was…a lot. Very carefully, she said, “Um. Just how deep into the ship are we right now? How far from the surface?”
The archons’ chambers are in the central layer of ship structure, the ship told her, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As vast portions of the ship plummeted into this planet’s mantle in the crash, you are currently approximately eight hundred and twenty-two legs underground. The heartship is even deeper—it got lodged beneath Us in impact. Unfortunately, the heartship’s jump capabilities were locked down as a safeguard against the threat of Phage spread, and We believe you will find Our conversation much more stimulating than the lamentably young minds and questionable morals of the heartship anyway, so We decided you shall stay with Us.
Tatiana really didn’t like the way the ship was making the arrangement sound permanent. “So let me get this straight,” she said slowly, “you’re dying, but you don’t want me to go try and find a way to fix you.”
That is correct.
“You want me to stay and talk.”
Correct.
Tatiana frowned. “Bullshit!” She got up and started walking…
…and, with stomach-flipping abruptness, found herself standing right back where she started.
