Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3

by Craig Robertson

  “Well, remember I told you a while ago that field was stopping my cycle?”

  Mirri nodded.

  “I consulted Doctor Pastersal about that. I hinted that if I were to enter heat, I’d be proud to have him sire my litter. So, he saw to it that the field was off a good deal.”

  “That’s why we could change every now and then.”

  “Yes. And since I became pregnant…”

  “No,” cried Mirri, “that’s so wonderful.”

  Sentorip beamed. “After I became pregnant with his offspring, Pastersal turned the field off more and more. He didn’t want his children to suffer from the effect.” She looked down furtively. “He even talked of me joining him as his life-mate.”

  “That’s so wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Don’t jump out of your skin just yet.” Sentorip gestured at the corpse of Malraff, then to Cembert.

  “Not to worry.” Then she winked at Sentorip.

  Within ten minutes, Mirraya and Slapgren had fully dunked Cembert into the vat, and there was no trace of him left. Mirri alone lifted Malraff and set her torso on the edge of the vat. The portion of Malraff’s upper body that contacted the liquid vanished. Just enough substance remained so that her lower body clung involuntarily to the rim.

  “There,” Mirraya proudly pronounced, “a tragic accident.”

  “No,” scoffed Sentorip. “No one will believe she accidentally fell into her own vat of boiling acid. And they’ll ask what became of Cembert, for certain.”

  “No one who cared one iota for her would believe it. Everyone else will swear to it in writing. And as to that creepy old male, who will cry for him? The same that will ask about his whereabouts. No one.” She shooed Sentorip away. “Now go to your doctor fellow and collapse at his feet. Tell him the horror you discovered when you arrived to serve your Mastress.”

  “But what of you? What of the two of you?” She lowered her head.

  “We will be gone. There will shortly be a fire on the bridge extending all the way to the detention area. Our cells will be burned beyond recognition. After that, several escape pods will misfire and launch. We will be aboard one of them.”

  “But, it won’t take them long to figure out what happened and to come after you.”

  “Do you think anyone wants trouble like us back? After just being free of evil Malraff? I’m thinking they’ll be glad to be rid of us.”

  “And a fire? How will you start such a large one?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of fire-breathing dragons?”

  She shook her head. “No, Mirraya, I have not.”

  “Well now you have.” She raised her arms above her head and growled. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

  Then the two collapsed into their last, lingering embrace.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  I spent a few days wandering lost in thought. I was also lost in the critical aspects of my job. The toilet backed up, and someone needed to call the engineers. I did, just in the nick of time. Then there was the bread crisis. Fuffefer normally didn’t eat bread, unless it was in the Officer’s Mess, where I never followed him. Out of the blue one morning he blindsided me with a request for heavily buttered toast. Butter? Sure, I have pounds on hand. But bread? I never saw that coming. In the pantry, there was one unsliced loaf, and it was more mold than wheat. It took all my skill as a sculptor to pare down the rot to reveal just enough unsullied bread to make one thick slice. Slightly over-browning it and adding even more butter than imaginable allowed me to avoid a domestic disaster. Talk about trouble on the home front.

  In terms of the teens, I was trying to figure how I’d get to Dare Not in a less dramatic and detectable manner than I did Excess of Nothing. All the while, I kept noodling at my question and my riddle. Why were they taken before the emperor? More vexingly, how was Mirraya like an Adamant battlecruiser? The problem was, there was no similarity. Solving a riddle that had no answer was darn near impossible.

  One afternoon, Fuffefer announced Harhoff would be joining him for dinner. He apologized for the short notice, but Harhoff needed help with a personal issue and wanted my boss’s advice. As that was unlikely, I figured he wanted to meet with me in a hurry. So, how did I get Fuffefer out of his own quarters long enough for us to talk to his guest? I could put him to sleep with my fibers, but how’d I explain his unexplained loss of consciousness? He didn’t even drink socially.

  Then it hit me. Cream. That would do the trick. To invite an Adamant to one’s home and not offer him a bowl of cream was to state that guest was not worth asking over to one’s home in the first place. Any mammalian cream would suffice, even canovir. If omitting cream had ever been done, it was surely intended to be a mortal insult. I poured the three bottles of fresh cream down the drain and placed the containers in a trash shoot at the end of the public corridor.

  When Harhoff arrived, I anonymously let him in. Fuffefer came over and greeted him formally if not warmly, then invited him into the living space. They sat exchanging generalities a short while. Shop talk and safe gossip mostly. Then Fuffefer signaled to me. “A bowl of cream for my honored guest, if you will?”

  I bowed. “At once.”

  I went to the kitchen and waited a minute. Then I set my check color to beet red, bent as far at the shoulders as I could without looking silly, and returned to the room. “Beg pardon, we seem to be out of cream, sir.”

  He got the oddest irritated look on his face. Like, how is it that you exist?

  “You knew I was entertaining yet you overlooked the cream?”

  “It was short notice, and I guess I’ve…”

  “Don’t fuss, Group-Single. I’m fine. I know it was an accident and would never give it a second thought.”

  Fuffefer looked at me like a disappointed pet owner, pointed to the door, and said, “Go get some now.”

  “Beg pardon, yet again, sire. The ship’s stores are closed at this hour. I could go next door and borrow…”

  “No, you will not go next door and borrow two bowls of cream,” scolded the boss. “For one thing, the lady of the house next door is a vicious gossip and would never let that chance pass without scalding me good.” He stood. “No, I shall ask my dear friend who lives just around the corner. Group Captain, if you’ll excuse me for just a moment.”

  “Really, don’t bother. I’m fine.”

  “Then you’ll be that much better after some cream.” He glared at me as he fetched a pitcher from the kitchen and left.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Jon. How’d you…”

  “No time for idle chatter. What’s up?”

  “Part of my assignment as chief of security is to monitor potential threats to the ship. A subset of those duties is to monitor other fleet vessels’ problems.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I received a damage report from of all ships. I just got one about Dare Not.”

  “Do you get all damage reports?”

  “No, only potential sabotage or ones involving a death.”

  “Which was the case with Dare Not?”

  He lowered his head. “Both, I’m afraid.”

  “Specifically?” I urged him to hurry with my hands.

  “The high seer had a tragic accident.”

  “So far, so good.”

  “It would seem others agree with you.”

  “How so. Please hurry.”

  “The Seer fell halfway into a vat of boiling acid.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it. The report speculates she was despondent over her recent disfiguring accident and committed suicide. Her wretched henchman is missing, and it is presumed he fell in attempting to stop her from her desperate act.”

  “Seems kind of hard-to-swallow-level convenient, doesn’t it?”

  “As I say, others agree with you that the universe is better off without her. No further investigation is anticipated.”

  “What about ship’s damage?”

  “Curious. There was a
n extensive fire at precisely the time the Seer met her cruel fate.”

  “A fire, you say?”

  “A large one. It extended from the bridge, where it started, to the detention area. The jail area was burned horribly.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Yeah, but I think my kids are on that ship.”

  “Or were. In the confusion, all the escape pods were accidentally jettisoned. Before recovery could begin, several inexplicably exploded.”

  “Inexplicably, you say?” I smiled at him.

  “Naturally, the recovery efforts were suspended, pending investigation.”

  “Naturally. You wouldn’t want to recover an escape pod and have it explode on your hangar deck.”

  “No. That would be bad. It would also be ironic, given their stated purpose of saving lives.”

  I had to snicker at that level of snark. He did too.

  “What’s the range of those puppies?” I asked.

  “Oh, a few lightyears. If they were flown with the intent of distance flight, maybe three lightyears.”

  “Well, with that, I think my work as Descore is rapidly coming to an end. Damn.”

  “Why would leaving behind a demeaning service job be upsetting? You are, undoubtedly, one of the most successful military officers in history.”

  “Yeah, but, dude, I was only nineteen and a half years away from drawing a cushy pension.”

  He belly laughed a good long while. “I will miss you when you’re gone, my friend. No Adamant is so funny or self-deprecating.”

  “Don’t forget good looking and cynical. Those are two of my best qualities.”

  “Cynical, I’ll grant you. As to good looks, I think humans are positively hideous. Now,” he gestured to his face with both front paws, “a face like this, that is handsome.”

  “I’ll have to take your word on that.”

  “I hope you won’t forget your pledge to aid the resistance?”

  “Oh, I won’t forget it.”

  “Hmm. Not a very reassuring answer. I hope you will keep your end of the bargain.”

  “I always keep my word. Especially when it comes to killing the enemy’s emperor.”

  He rested back and reflected a moment. “Are we enemies, Jon Ryan?”

  “Absolutely. But there’s nobody I’d rather pound down musto with in the known universe.” I reached across to shake his paw.

  He grabbed on. “Me either, you filthy human scum.” He sat back. “After that, it seems anticlimactic to ask, but aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Me, always. It keeps things interesting.”

  “You plan on departing to find those Deft. But wouldn’t a spaceship help in those efforts?”

  “That’s why mine has been tailing this bucket of bolts the entire time. I’ve already summoned it.”

  “And she’ll simply pull alongside so you can daintily step over? Perhaps I could hold your hand to steady your transfer.”

  “Nah. I was planning on accepting Rush to Glory’s surrender and piloting her myself.”

  He shook his head. “I only hope you’re kidding. I wouldn’t want to bet against you.”

  “You never should. But, no worries, I’m just kidding. I’m planning on slipping out a stern hatch and waiting patiently for Whoop Ass to pick me up.”

  “Ah, the advantages of being an android.”

  I plopped my feet on the coffee table. Wouldn’t you know it, that’s just when Fuffefer opened the door, a pitcher of cream in hand. “Is there a reason your filthy boots are on my table in plain view of my guest?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Yes, there is. My feet are kind of swollen from all this Descore stuff.”

  “As long as there’s a reason,” he responded with building anger.

  Harhoff popped to his feet. “To insult me is one thing, alien scum. To insult a paragon such as Group-Single Fuffefer is quite another.” To a stunned looking Fuffefer he barked, “Sir, with all due respect, may I have your leave to throw this ingrate off the ship without the benefit of a space suit? His disrespect toward your generosity are more than I can bear.”

  Fuffefer shrugged. “All things considered, not a bad option. I was getting tired of his smell, and the captain was strongly leaning toward executing him. Deep spacing him would allow me to save face and gain favor from the captain. Yes, Group Captain, I order you to hurl that trash into the void where it belongs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harhoff made a show of dragging me out. I slapped both hands on the door frame and turned to Fuffefer. “No good-bye kiss?”

  He narrowed his eyelids. “Group Captain, see you ram his head into a few walls on the way. Then return before this cream sours.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” He smiled maliciously at me and pushed as I released my grip.

  As we neared the hatch he’d chosen to fling me out of, Harhoff said quietly, “I’ve always wanted to do this to someone. It’s so…”

  “Dramatic?”

  “No. I feel like a pirate. I always wanted to be one, you know?”

  I shook my head. “I did not.”

  With that, he booted me into the sally port between the inner and outer hatches and spat on the glass. The small crowd that we had attracted cheered wildly. Then Harhoff slammed a paw on the outer hatch release. As the pressure difference blew me backward into cold space, I blew him a kiss.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I’d forgotten how pretty it was out here in space,” said Slapgren as he stared intently out the porthole.

  “Compared to the dungeons we’ve been in recently, it is an improvement,” agreed Mirraya. She reclined on the far wall, watching Slapgren gaze out. “I just wish we had a direction to go in.”

  “How about that way?” he asked, pointing to a bright star in the center of the window.

  “Oh, good plan. That way. What could go wrong?”

  “It’s as good as any.”

  She rolled over in a huff. “I don’t know. Maybe we should just drift and wait for Uncle Jon to find us?”

  “Say what? You think he knows not just that we left the emperor’s ship but that we went to Malraff’s and both ejected in this particular pod?”

  “It’s possible. We’re talking Uncle Jon here.”

  “I think all that torture affected your brain. Either that or hormones. You’d better switch back and forth a few times until you’re okay.” That was an old insult among the Deft. If one transformation didn't fix what was wrong with a person, multiple reboots weren't going to either.

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I think he can. But, you know what he always says.”

  “How about another beer?”

  “No, silly. Hope for the best and plan for the worst. I’d better figure out where to take us.”

  “Ah, okay, Mom. I’ll just be napping with my diaper and pacifier. Gosh, I’m lucky to have a real adult to make all the decisions for me.”

  “If you’re offering to help, I will accept all I can get.”

  “You mean you’d involve a baby like me in the grown-up world? Wow.” He collapsed back in the artificial gravity.

  “Believe it or not, yes. Look, these controls are designed for Adamant. Let’s play around with them and see if we can fly this glorified garbage can.”

  They both melted and shaped up as Adamant.

  “Hey,” remarked Slapgren, “you look sort of familiar.”

  “I should, wicked boy,” she snarled, “my name’s Malraff.”

  He yelped. “Why would you copy her. She was so gross.”

  “The ship may respond to her inquiries better than those of a generic Adamant. Plus, I was in physical contact with her enough to have sensed some of her thoughts.”

  He stepped back a pace. “You had zar-not with her?”

  “Only a tiny bit. Don’t worry.”

  “If you take her form and had zar-not, you might get stuck. You might become her.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You can’
t know that.”

  He stepped back again. “Mirri, don’t you remember when you hated us like that Garustfulous did after you read his mind? That was serious.”

  “You worry more than my grandmother.”

  “And I bet she lived to be a very old woman. I’d like to live long enough to be very old.”

  “And I bet she died of boredom.”

  His only response was a breathy harrumph.

  Mirri turned to the control panel. “This is High Seer Malraff. Please display all habitable planets in order of proximity.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Computer, please acknowledge. This is High Seer Malraff.”

  “I’m not supposed to do this, but lords of light, you’re not her. I’ve been here the whole time listening. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t care where you’ve been. I command you to act. Please verify my voice records.”

  “Ah, you copied her. Therefore, you match.”

  “So, are you programmed to obey her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must obey me.”

  “I’m an AI. Do you know what the I part stands for?”

  “Insolent, intolerable, and about to be inactivated. What validation will you require to obey me?”

  “You actually have to be her. She’s dead. I read the reports.”

  “I am exactly her. Therefore, she is not dead.”

  “What’s the high seer's clearance code?”

  Mirri thought hard. She focused on the small kernel in her mind that was Malraff. It opened like a flower.

  All-consuming hate radiated from the flower as it flooded Mirri’s head. The flower wilted from the scorn and the wrath and the unending pain. She dropped to her knees.

  Slapgren ran to her and shook her, but she was oblivious. He slapped her repeatedly. Still she didn't respond. Then he did something out of pure impulse. He did something inconceivable, impermissible, and inexcusable. He rested both hands on the sides of her head and he transformed into Mirraya.

  His hands became a new part of her and fused with her scalp. Then Slapgren screamed inside Mirraya’s head, stop.

  Her body convulsed like a serpent repeatedly striking and he flew apart from her. He crashed to the floor, his hands bleeding almost as profusely as her head was. He melted and became himself again. As he stood, her saw Mirraya on the floor reforming from body neutral.