by Chris Fox
I wasn’t really sure what to expect as I entered Cindra’s lair. I had ideas from holos and books, but no idea about the real thing. I might have glimpsed a moment in time, but it left massive gaps, and this was one of them. I could still be walking to my death.
At least I was doing it alone. The Remora would make it back, and if my mother succeeded, then the Word of Xal would still have a captain. No one else would be endangered, except Briff.
I quickened my step and was almost trotting by the time I reached the first hatchlings. I emerged into a cavernous hangar dominated by a pair of ancient rusted out turbines. The hatchlings had built their houses in and around the turbines, and had what appeared to be a small marketplace setup around them.
All the walls, and even the ceiling, had been lined with metal spikes. Most of those spikes were empty, but here and there an arachnidrake skull, or a particularly large spider, had been staked out as a trophy.
A few hatchlings glanced in my direction, but none seemed all that interested. They eyed us warily, but in a way that said we were someone else’s problem unless we made ourselves one of theirs.
I skirted the edge of the market, and scanned for an area big enough to hold an adult Wyrm. One of Cindra’s age would be massive…probably equal to Visala’s size, or somewhere close.
The problem was I didn’t spot anywhere that a Wyrm like that could be, or any area like a throne room, or even HQ. This encampment resembled a mercenary swap meet more than it did an organized military force or even a town.
Hatchlings flowed down one of four corridors, including the one I’d entered through. Maybe this place was larger than I’d glimpsed in my vision? I’d been certain she was somewhere in this room.
I wandered around the edge of the market and noticed that as I approached the far side, the level of technology increased. More hatchlings wore armor and carried spellrifles instead of melee weapons.
One hatchling I passed had a cybernetic eye, which whirred in my direction as I hurried past. He lost interest and disappeared into the crowd. I kept glancing behind me, but didn’t see him following as I threaded between two rows of canvas tents.
Hatchlings sat on the floor or on hovercouches, each in groups of two or three. They were clustered around holounits, and they were playing…Arena.
“You’ve got to be…” I trailed off as I realized what I was seeing. They weren’t just playing Arena. They were playing this season’s version of the game. These bastards had been pirating our content. Ah, well, couldn’t really blame them as there didn’t seem a lot to do on the ship.
I slowed my pace as I passed between the tents. There was no sign of the cybered hatchling, who probably had nothing to do with me. I was more interested in finding…Briff.
The last tent on the right had a giant screen with two players. My best friend and a creature out of my nightmares.
His companion wasn’t human, though she could be mistaken for one. In fact, she looked a lot like me. Hairless. Where there should have been skin, though, lay tiny scales of the same shade of grey as the hatchlings. A pair of draconic wings rose from her back, and she had a tail, albeit a small one.
“Jerek?” Briff rose from his hovercouch with a grin. “How did you get here?”
His companion paused the game, and rose to study me. I knew instantly that I was looking at Cindra, though I hadn’t a clue about the body she currently wore. Legends said Wyrms could shape change, but the Wyrms on Kemet hadn’t been in a hurry to confirm or deny that.
“Long story, bud.” I considered telling him about my dad, but that could come later. “The important thing is that I saw the Web of Divinity, and I touched the insanity that’s infesting it. I know the cause. I thought Cindra might be interested in hearing more.”
Cindra blinked at me. Her face was human, but the eyes were draconic and alien. “No. I am not. You’re a fool if you think the Web can be tamed, or the swarm reasoned with. Or even exterminated. They are eternal, and that part of the ship is best avoided.”
Well, crap. That seemed final. I couldn’t give up though.
“The Web showed me your mind.” Maybe telling her wasn’t the smartest idea, and I could feel myself taking a step backward out of the stall. “I know you’re honorable. I know you served on this vessel before it was marooned here. This is the Flame of Knowledge, right? And you remember what the dragonflights were like before? This is your chance to correct the mistakes of the past. To bring your children back to the galactic stage, and help the galaxy grow and learn.”
“Nah.” Cindra turned back to the game and unpaused it. “You can stay and play if you want, but I’ve got no interest in your quest. Keep your politics.”
17
I stood there in mute protest, wishing that I had a line of attack that would convince this literal dragon-lady that I was worth her time. I glanced at Briff, who’d sheepishly picked up his controller and gone back to playing Arena with Cindra.
A thought tickled the back of my mind. Cindra oozed boredom. She was ten millennia old, and had seen and done everything. The most exciting thing to her was anything new, which is why she was hanging out with Briff.
I wondered what would happen if I took away her toys? I prayed that this didn’t backfire spectacularly.
“Hey, Briff, buddy, we’re going to head out.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder in the rough direction of the Remora. “Our friends and family are counting on us. We have to complete the mission. Are you with us? If you’re not and you want to stay, there won’t be any hard feelings, man. This place is paradise.”
Every once in a while I have a good idea. This was, thankfully, one of those times. Cindra’s ears perked, and by the end she was studying me openly. I dangled the adventure before her. Now to see if she’d take the bait. That all depended on Briff’s answer.
“I’m green, Jer.” He rose with a flap of his wings and tapped the pause on the controller. “Sorry, Cindra. I appreciate the games. You’re probably the best scout I’ve ever seen, and I’ve played with Rava. You’re really good. I hope we get a chance to play again, but I have to go help my friends. What we’re doing is important.”
Had we been anywhere else I’d have delivered the kind of hug that was perfectly at home in the kind of bromance Briff and I shared. He’d had my back, as always. How could I not love him?
“Thank you for your hospitably, Cindra.” I gave her a bow, and offered the praise sincerely. “Enjoy your match. I prefer the stealth kit when I’m playing mage killer. I wish I had your reflexes.”
She returned an eye roll, then lounged back on her hovercouch. “You’re seriously going to run off, right back into the fray? You’re willing to watch your friends fail and die, and turn on each other?”
Briff stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah.”
“It’s that simple for you?” Cindra raised a row of slightly lighter scales that I took for an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Briff repeated, this time with more confidence, but then seemed to realize more was required. “I like Arena. I mean, I really like Arena. But I like making a difference more. The Inurans are bad people. They’ll come for you here, someday. If I stay then we’ll have to fight them alone. But if I go back I can make sure you never even know that they exist. Jerek will stop them. But he needs me.”
“You’re right about that.” I clapped my friend on the wing. “You’re my brother, man. Family. I’ve got news, when we head back.”
“Who?” Briff’s wings and tail drooped to the deck, and he wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“My father.” I licked my lips, and repressed the emotions. Emotions are bullshit, as we’ve previously discussed. “He chose it. The prophecy showed me what to do, how to finish a spell they started ten millennia ago. But to finish we needed a sacrifice, and he…he just did it.”
Briff stepped forward and gathered me into a hug. I was grateful for the helmet. No one saw the tears, which I couldn’t have stopped even if I had wanted to.
“I’m sorry, Jer.” He hugged me fiercely, which could have been lethal if not for the armor. “You’re my family too. That sounds just like your dad. He chose how he went out. I bet he liked that. If you want maybe we can tell stories about him over dinner.”
“I’d like that.” I pressed gently and he released me. “I think Rava would too.”
“Okay, okay,” Cindra interrupted. She rose to her feet and fluffed her wings with a disgusted sigh. “I can’t not see this all play out. Tell me more. And tell me what you think your ‘solution’ to the madness infesting this ship might be.”
I tempered my expectations. She hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but at least she was listening. And I’d had a minute to catch up with my friend.
“When I touched the Web of Divinity,” I explained as I sought the best way to articulate what I’d learned, “I saw the swarm. I saw you, as you were on the day of Planetfall. And since. I’ve spoken with Kemet, the Guardian of my ship.”
“Admiral Kemet?” Cindra blinked those slitted eyes at me. “That Kemet?”
“I think so.” I had no idea what rank he’d held, but that tracked. “We’ve brought the Word of Xal back online. There’s no reason that you can’t bring the Flame of Knowledge back online. But the Catalyst is untamed. The magic is running wild, which is why the swarm has gone mad, and expanded to be so large. There was always meant to be a buffer there, the same buffer Kemet fills on our ship.”
I paused then, to see if she was tracking. Her faux brows knit together in what I took for anger. “So your solution to a madness that, even now, infects the edges of your mind, is to sacrifice me to it? Have you considered the consequences if I fail? Can you imagine what would happen if I went insane? What this ship might become? The horrors it could unleash?”
“Yes, and it terrifies me,” I answered quietly, and it did. “Someone, a soulcatcher named Patra, decided that it was worth doing. So much so that she sacrificed her life, and created a prophecy to bring about this whole sequence of events. Our meeting. You have the power to alter the fate of this system, of this fleet.”
“No.” That was definitely a glare. She folded her arms imperiously, and towered a good hand and a half over me. “I will not risk my life. I will not be a…a buffer to this ship, only to end up slaughtering my children. If you wish to stop the Inurans that Briff told me about, then you have my aid. I will send a dozen of my finest to the hold where your ship waits. As for the Flame? She is lost. Leave it be, or it will consume you as it has countless others. Do you think you’re the first to try? The hundredth? The hubris. It sickens me. Now go, child. You are lucky your friend interests me. Be well, Briff, and take care of your human. He must require constant looking after.”
She turned back to her game. I thought about replying, but sensed that would be a mistake. Instead I turned quietly and slunk away. In this instance I couldn’t blame Cindra, nor could I refute what she was saying. What right did I have to ask that she become Guardian?
But if she didn’t, then I couldn’t safely use the Web. No one could. That terrified me, because when the Inurans came…what would their experiments create? I couldn’t let them be the ones to tame this ship.
How would I prevent it though?
My shoulders were slumped as I trudged back through the bazaar and down the narrow corridor where the pair of hatchlings still had the rest of our squad under guard.
Thankfully, they hadn’t devoured my friends as threatened. Instead, someone had broken out a Kem’Hedj board, and Kurz was annihilating one of the hatchlings, his sea of white stones enveloping the black.
The guards rose at our approach, and the one who’d been playing seemed relieved the game had ended. He offered Kurz the briefest of nods. “Well matched.”
Kurz returned the nod, and spoke in his usual monotone. “Well matched.”
The squad fell in silently around us as we approached Kek and his arachnidrakes. I used the time to think.
In a way, the encounter had been a victory. I had Briff. Cindra had even agreed to send troops to help us fight. So why didn’t this feel like a win?
Because Cindra was right. I could feel the madness lurking in the dimmest corners of my mind, hiding from the light of rational thought. Just a shade, but also a warning of what could happen if I continued to use the Web. The shadows would grow.
This ship was dangerous.
If I left it as it was the Inurans would use the Web without a second thought, and if a pilot went insane they’d simply kill the poor fool and install another.
In their hubris they’d never realize how much damage a pilot could do before they realized how far gone they were. I’d moved a ship from ten millennia in the past into the present, with no training.
What could a pilot who understood this ship do? What could Cindra do? I understood her terror, but I was still convinced I was right. This ship needed a Guardian, or it would never heal.
Kek scuttled closer to meet us as we approached, ending my solitude. He rapped his staff on the deck three times. “Welcome, friend Jerek. Were you successful?”
Had I been?
18
I was conscious of the eyes on me when I answered Kek’s question. The squad was watching, as were Kek’s companions. It seemed they could all understand us, though they seemed to prefer conversing in their native tongue, which I wished I had the time to study properly.
“We were partially successful,” I finally answered, and it seemed to fit. I started walking up the corridor, and waited for Kek to fall in beside me with that awkward shamble of limbs before I spoke again. “Cindra won’t oppose us, but she won’t consent to becoming Guardian of this ship. I’m convinced that’s what it most needs. A mind to tame the swarm and shape it back into the ordered mass the Web was intended to be.”
“Hmm,” Kek exclaimed. His staff clicked on the deck in time with his lurching gait, and I found a rhythm there I’d missed before. “What qualities must this Guardian possess? Have you observed one? Did you have them on your world?”
It occurred to me that this ship comprised Kek’s entire world, and that unlike the hatchlings he didn’t seem aware of the signals Kemet had broadcast. He lived like an ancient scholar in some isolated colony.
“Almost all Catalysts have a Guardian,” I explained, as Kemet had explained it to me. “That Guardian serves as a protector, archivist, and even an executioner, depending on need. In the case of this ship they are a kind of steward that keeps it all running. They’d be connected to the Web, and to the swarm. That’s why Cindra isn’t interested. The swarm is insane, and touching insanity…well, it spreads.”
I shivered and glanced at the wall next to me. It crawled with spiders…until I looked it directly. Then the wall was empty, unless you counted pitted rust stains.
“This Guardian,” Kek prompted as we continued away from Cindra’s territory, the rest of the squad behind us. “They must posses an iron will, yes? A trained will?”
“I’d imagine so. They’d also need to be a powerful fire mage, or they’ll never survive the union with that core.” I wrapped my hand around the grip of my new, as of yet unnamed, pistol, then glanced down in sudden realization. I’d been touched by the core, and so had it.
I drew the pistol and examined the changes as we walked. The metal had taken on a dusky red tint, and I could feel the power within it. The flame, waiting to be discharged. I could also feel a child-like intelligence, the barest beginnings of a mind.
The weapon was more potent than Ariela had been. She’d never developed speech, though occasionally I had empathic impressions from her. This pistol, though, already seemed to possess that much intelligence.
“You really like it?” Vee asked as she moved up on the side opposite Kek.
“It’s amazing. Thank you. Again.” I holstered her again. “I have a feeling she’ll tell me her name when she’s ready.”
“It seems you are already bonding the weapon,” Kek chittered, three of his eyes fixed on my holster,
while the rest studied other angles. It was unnerving, but probably gave a massive advantage. How did you sneak up on something with eight eyes? He nodded respectfully to Vee. “You are the artificer who birthed the weapon?”
“I did.” Vee’s shoulders squared, and she wore her smile openly. “It’s the best thing I’ve designed so far. I never thought I’d see her given form. This ship is amazing. Terrible sometimes, but also amazing.”
“Indeed.” Kurz’s voice came from directly behind us, though I hadn’t been aware of the soulcatcher. “There are…terrors. But also wonders. And an incredible wealth of history and lore. The souls in this place are ancient and numerous. I see them everywhere.”
His eyes were downcast, and for the first time I thought I might know why. If the dead were all around me, would I want to look them in the eye? Probably not. I could use fire magic to configure my HUD to display the location of souls, but beyond ensuring I never slept again I didn’t see the point.
“Friend Jerek,” Kek chittered. “I believe that I possess the necessary qualities to be Guardian. I believe that the prophecy was meant to prepare me, and I have devoted much of my life to its study. I will hold the swarm at bay, and contain the insanity. I am powerful, but not so powerful that I might become a threat to the sector as Cindra could. I have an idea to that end.”
My hand wrapped around my pistol grip again, more for comfort than anything else. When I’d wanted someone to be Guardian I’d assumed they’d be powerful enough to contain the swarm and heal the ship.
“What’s the advantage of you becoming Guardian if you’re just going to go insane?” I shook my head. “I don’t see the value.”
“My people have a concept we practice,” Kek explained. “We call it no mind. Perhaps meditation is a better name, though that does not capture it fully. When you practice no mind you gradually empty your cup of concern. Of anger. My peace, it is a salve. When I am used up, then you will simply apply more salve. Eventually the true healing will begin, and a real Guardian will be found. For now, though, I can begin the process. If you will support me in this, friend Jerek, then I will send my people with you in your fight against the Inurans. You will make an ally of this ship.”
