Arach

by C. M. Simpson

  “Where’s the ship?” I asked, and Poli stroked an antenna down the side of my face.

  It was gentle, his touch feather-light, but it reminded me I wasn’t anywhere I knew how to be. I backed up a step, before I could stop myself, and felt a hand set lightly in the center of my back.

  “We will rescue Mack,” the queen told me, and turned to Poli.

  “There was a shuttle incursion,” she began, and Poli angled his head so he was looking up and to one side. He made a series of clicks and followed it with, “is trying to trace it. We think it crossed into what the humans call Sekekna’s Hills.”

  The queen followed Poli’s gaze, and caught the eye of one of the operators typing away on the ceiling. It had four monitors arranged in an arc around its keyboard, and was dividing its attention between them. It glanced down at her, and briefly lifted its wings, before laying them back against its back.

  “Thank you.” The queen turned back to Poli. “I also need the drop bag, and the instructions that came with it. That should have been shared, already. Find out what the delay was.”

  I listened, knowing I could understand her words only because she dropped them, in perfect Galbas, into my head. The sounds she was making to communicate with the others? Those? Those I had no hope of comprehending. I wondered if her translations were honest, and felt the hand pat my back.

  It was not a comforting pat, more like a cross between a slap, and a pat, and I remembered that she could also read my mind. Well, damn. Even if it was true, I still knew she really could be saying something entirely different.

  “I am a queen,” she reminded me. “A queen’s word is her honor, and her honor is paramount.”

  Askavor gave a soft his, making a clattering sound with his mouth parts, and the queen’s hand stilled. She half-turned to face the arachnid, and he froze. A heartbeat passed, and he touched his head to the floor, his words, once again, coming clearly through the implant.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Around us, wasps moved in uneasy irritation, stopping only, when the queen raised her hand.

  “Contact the port authorities. Tell them I need a shuttle.”

  A shuttle?

  “How else do you think we are going to reach your Mack, before he is drained totally dry? I have never seen a human allowed to live, after landing a hit like that… let alone the ones that followed. Whatever operation you were needed for, it must be very important.”

  “But we will get Mack, first?”

  She smiled.

  “We will rescue Mack and his people. You can repay the retrieval fee by helping us defeat the plot you were part of, and destroying this incursion.”

  “Agreed,” I said, knowing Mack would honor the agreement—even as I wondered just how many rounds on the mats it would cost me, this time.

  As if she caught that thought, the queen’s smile grew wider—and then it vanished. Her expression grew blank, as most do, when answering a call using their implant.

  “Yes? Yes. This is she.” Her voice took on a regal tone, laced with authority and expectation, but, all too soon, the expectation was gone, replaced by displeasure, as the conversation continued. “You can’t? The monthly shipment? Not even for a few hours? How could that possibly affect the bottom line? I see.”

  She sighed, and then closed her eyes, as though listening to something that made it difficult to rein in her temper.

  “Yes. It is an emergency. Of course, we can pay for the interruption. I see. Thank you. We’ll see if we can find an alternative for the interim. No. Yes. If you can find a window for us to borrow one of your shuttles, we would definitely appreciate it. Yes. Yes. That’s correct.”

  She opened her eyes, and I took that as a signal that she’d ended the call.

  “We can’t get a shuttle,” she said, and the air filled with a low hum punctuated by human gasps.

  Again, the queen raised her hand, and, again, silence fell.

  “I will deal with it, once this crisis is over. In the meantime, we will find the shuttle responsible for the incursion, and we will acquire it for ourselves.” She turned to Askavor, and beckoned him over to stand behind Poli’s console. “Come and take a look. See if you can tell me who attacked us at the garden border.”

  The spider hesitated, tilting its head to get a better look at me, before sidling around the other side of the queen and peering past Poli’s winged shoulders at the screen. That was fine by me. I could just about handle Askavor being in the same room, as me, just as long as he didn’t get too close. It was strange how he seemed to feel exactly the same way.

  At least he had more manners than I did, because the poor creature translated its recognition straight into the implant.

  “He is from the River Weavers,” Askavor said. “The third born. His name is…” and here he laid down a pattern of sounds that the implant could not decipher. “You can call him Chen.”

  Chen…

  “It is a common name amongst the humans here,” the queen informed me.

  She laid a hand on the side of Askavor’s head.

  “You did well. Now, can you find me somewhere in the Hills that might serve as a concealed base?”

  “The Web Fishers have numerous lairs along the river. Any one of them could serve.”

  “Yes, but do you have a way to see if any of them recently received a shuttle.”

  “There are only a handful of caverns that could accommodate a vehicle of that size.” Askavor paused, and looked around the room. “I will need a console.”

  Poli moved back.

  “With my queen’s permission…”

  A gesture from the queen invited Askavor to take Poli’s place, and I vaulted to the other side of the chair. He paused, eyeing me warily, and then glancing at the queen.

  “Are you sure she’s safe?”

  The queen smiled reassuringly at the arachnid, and cast a warning glance at me.

  “She’s not going to harm you, Aska. Take the console.”

  Inside my head, away from other ears, her voice continued, “Make one move towards him, and I will paralyze you for a month, while we decide how ethical it is to feed potential allies to our larvae.”

  I froze, and stared at her, trying to reconcile that snarling threat with her serene smile—and then I remembered. Royalty. Riiight. Just because she was from another species, didn’t mean the ruling class didn’t face as many threats as those who ruled amongst humans.

  “And you would do well to remember it.” Again, the queen’s words were for my mind alone.

  I nodded, and went to lounge against an empty patch of wall. It let me see the rest of the room, while I tried to log into the wireless world around me. Just because it wasn’t a system I was used to didn’t mean I couldn’t try to get into it, right?

  I was still trying to work my way round a wall coded in a pattern of symbols I didn’t understand, when Askavor gave a chitter of alarm. I heard him from inside the code, and it was enough to pull me back to the present. At first, I couldn’t see the queen, and then I realized she’d abandoned her human form, and was hovering above Askavor’s head, and looking down into the screen of the machine before him.

  All around us, wasps dropped down from the ceiling, and humans ran for the lock boxes I hadn’t noticed along the opposite wall. I ran towards the boxes, as well. You never know what you might find in a good lock box—and I figured all the activity meant trouble.

  As if to confirm my thought, an alarm hummed low and solid through me. It vibrated in the bones where my ears met the back of my jaw, and then continued to throb through the rest of my skull.

  What the fuck was that?

  Either way, the humans were grabbing gear, and some of it looked like it might fit me. And talk about your Blazer 54 being a popular weapon. Those and the good, old A-Level were amongst the weapons being slung over shoulders, and passed back to waspish claws. To my surprise, Askavor
did not move from his seat, but his claws danced over the keyboard, and I caught a glimpse of imagery flashing across the screen.

  “Cutter,” he said, his voice echoing through the implant in an unwelcome clatter, and I stopped, just as I reached the nearest box.

  “What?”

  “Here,” and the link I’d been trying to forge with the vespis systems was sent into my head.

  “Thanks.”

  I stopped, diving into the data stream, and thinking of function, hoping the programming could pick up my intent, hoping even more for a pictographic interface. I was shit out of luck for both—and then the computer hit me… or, rather, Askavor did. He grabbed the language interface, and rammed it through the link.

  “Sorry,” he said, as the data rolled into my head, knocking me to the floor.

  8—Raiders

  I came round, lying on a hard metal floor that hummed and thrummed beneath me. When I saw what was standing over me, I gave a shout of alarm and started to scramble backwards, not caring that would bring me into better range of its fangs. The spider gave an impatient huff of air, and planted a foot in the middle of my chest, squashing me to the floor.

  “Lie still!” was a command I heard in two voices.

  It was echoed by a hisses, clicks and mandible clatter.

  I lay still, but not because I had any sort of a choice. Askavor was damned heavy in his arach form.

  “It is the only form I have,” he told me, but he didn’t let me up, not even now he knew I’d recognized who he was.

  I guess he could feel just how fast my heart was beating and didn’t dare lift his foot. Smart, fucking spider.

  “Queen says not to let you up until we arrive, and that you are to wait for her.”

  Riiiight. Like that was… Wait.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To hit the arach base on the Sekekna River.”

  “We found it?” I tried to sit up, and couldn’t shift. I slapped at the foot pinning me to the floor. “This isn’t fun, you know.”

  “It’s safe,” Askavor replied, and didn’t say who for.

  “What did you do to me?” I asked, remembering the data flood that had overwhelmed me.

  “Taught you the vespis coding language. You’ll need it, to interface with our machines.”

  That almost made sense.

  “It is it the same as arach code?” The spider’s clawed foot curled through the material of my shirt, and I knew I’d asked the wrong question. “Sorry.”

  “Were you attempting to be humorous?”

  I shook my head, even knowing he couldn’t see it.

  “No. I was being hopeful. I might need to hack through some to get back into the ship… or to access theirs.”

  I watched as the spider body shuddered above me.

  “Weavers have not developed their own code,” he said, “… and you do not want to go into an arach system, without knowing how they program it. Their systems environment is as hostile as their ships, and as I imagine their home-world to be.”

  “How do you know?” I asked, and Askavor tensed.

  I could feel the tension vibrating through him, as he held himself very, very still. When he didn’t reply, I tried a different tack.

  “You know arach code?” When he didn’t reply, I pushed him. “When did you learn arach code?”

  He shuddered again.

  “We are almost there.”

  I was about to tell him not to change the subject, when something poked at my implant. I went quiet, and Askavor did not ask me why. I think he was just relieved to think I’d been distracted. Damned eight-legs didn’t know me very well. Lucky for me.

  I lay very, very still, and concentrated on the inside of my head. When the poke came, again, I zeroed in on one of the links Askavor had locked down. This one belonged to Tens. I sat inside my head and stared at it, trying to decide if I wanted to decide between risking some arach IT gumbo getting into my head, and ignoring what might be Tens asking for help—or, better yet, Tens with a plan to get everyone out from under.

  It was a good thing Askavor had programmed in vespis, and a very good thing that he had given me the crash-course so I could understand it. I broke through his lock-down in double-quick time, and Tens stepped into my implant just as quick as you please. It worried me that his presence was so weak.

  “Tens, you okay?”

  And the impression I got was of quiet despair.

  “Not about me, Cutter. About you. There’s an arach drop-ship heading your way. Coordinates…” He stopped, his contact almost angry when he asked. “Are you compromised?”

  “No. Tens, meet the vespis tech-guy, Askavor. Askavor, Tens. Now, get the hell out of my head so we can talk.”

  “I will relay the coordinates to the vespis strike team.”

  Tens didn’t wait for my go ahead. Either he knew who—and what—the vespis were, or he took a leap of faith that they weren’t arach. Either way, he gave the coordinates to Askavor, and turned to me, ignoring the spider’s presence as he gave me what else he knew.

  “They’re going to hit an outlying settlement. The first drop is to secure it. There’ll be a second as they rotate their troops through to feed.”

  “How many?” Askavor, but I didn’t bother asking him what he was still doing in my head. I figured he was gathering data to pass on to the queen.

  “Queen?” Tens sounded a little bit alarmed.

  “Vespis queen,” Askavor answered, as though I wasn’t right there between them.

  “Vespis…” Tens said.

  “Wasp people,” I told him. “They have a queen, too.”

  “Just what I need,” Tens said, and I knew he stifled the rest of what he was going to say. I caught it anyway, “More bugs.”

  I could only hope Askavor had missed it, or would ignore it. Tens was not his usual sharp self.

  “How many?” Askavor insisted, and Tens’ presence started, as though it had forgotten where it was.

  “Twenty per drop. Three drops. They’ve packed them tight here. We are in the deepest of shit.”

  My head swam at what he was saying.

  “Have they started feeding, yet?”

  It was out before I could stop it, and Tens gave a short, bitter laugh.

  “They started as soon as they arrived. Not full draining, just taking a bit off the top, and then making sure we had enough high-protein packs and water to replace it. It’s mandatory we eat. You don’t…” His presence faltered, and then strengthened. “You don’t want to know what happens if you refuse.”

  “How many have we lost?”

  “Just the one. They piped it through our heads. Cut Mack out. Locked him away from the rest of us. Damped his cabin so I can’t reach him, and he can’t reach out.”

  I thought about what I’d seen and wondered how I’d been able to get through.

  “We made sure your link was… it’s hard to explain. Let’s just say it’s deeper than a normal comm link. More direct.”

  That had implications I didn’t want to think about, right now, so I pushed it aside.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I might have a day, depends on what happens with the new food source,” and, given that he’d just given me the coordinates of that food source, and clearly expected me to disrupt it, that didn’t give us much time, but Tens kept talking, “They think they’ve got Mack under control. Don’t need me. He found out what… they’re doing, he’d go berserk. You have any crazy plans that might get us out of this mess, you better do it soon, kiddo. Won’t be too many of us left in another forty-eight.”

  From the sound of him, there wouldn’t be too many of them left after the next twenty-four. He cut into my thoughts, again.

  “Doc… is safe… for now. They need him. Rohan… and the pup disappeared into the vents. Should be okay a little longer. Mack…” His voice took on a creaky edge. “Don’t know how Mack is. You need to s
ave him, Cutter. Hacked the feed when the shuttle launched. Could feel launch vibration… here. Hacked the navcom. Why I know the coordinates. Patch you through.”

  And he did, with Askavor looking on, and looking more and more worried.

  Tens contact wavered, and I caught a glimpse of what he was seeing. No wonder he was fading. The arach were feeding. I could see them, each one sitting around the corners of a room, a crew member held slantwise across their chests as they drank. Not a single one of the crew was struggling, and I wished they would.

  “Too weak,” Tens said. “You need to take them soon. If you can’t, I’m… sorry, I can’t stick around. You take care… of yourself…”

  And then his presence did fade, and Askavor moved with a mental speed and agility I hadn’t expected, to repair the code work I’d destroyed to give Tens access to the implant—and I let him. I watched as he secured my head, one more time, and then I let him shake me out of it.

  “You are needed, here,” he said. “There is nothing you can do there—except watch him die.”

  He tried, once more, when I continued to stare at nothing, my mind repeating visions of where Tens was stuck. Aska refused to let me wallow.

  “If we can take the drop-ship, we can get to the ship faster, but we must stop them calling back and warning of our presence.”

  That snapped me out of it.

  “Or we can let them call the attack, and hope the arach on the ship assume a retreat when it returns.”

  I waited while he considered the idea, then touched his leg.

  “Let me up?”

  I felt him inside my head. Honestly, it was like the damned arachnid was sitting in a corner of my mind, and staring at me. I stared back, daring him to keep me pinned to the floor, when I had a shit-ton of more important stuff to do. He said something in the Weaver tongue, and I tensed, my heart pounding at just the sound of his voice.

  At least, this time, I didn’t try to kill him.

  It was a relief when he lifted his foot off my chest—and, for just a minute, I was tempted to sucker punch him, as I rolled clear of his legs… except he was a spider. Which meant he had an exoskeleton. Which meant I’d hurt my hand. Which meant I might not be able to fire my blaster.