Hunted lop-4

by James Alan Gardner

  So the modern approach was for queens to produce heirs whenever they wanted, let the girls grow to age eighteen under the guidance of their mothers, then freeze the kids into suspended animation till one of the old queens died. This made sure there were always young queens ready to take over, but kept them from interfering with their seniors. Even if the junior queens weren’t too happy being put on ice, they accepted it as a reasonable compromise — it guaranteed that sometime down the road, maybe two or three generations after she was born, each queen would have her full chance to reign, without having to fight other claimants to the throne.

  All well and good… till the night when I was woken by a huge whacking explosion near the palace.

  I leapt out of bed and shouted something stupid like, "What was that?" But the maidservant who’d been keeping me company didn’t answer: she just lay there trembling like a scared rabbit. By then, I knew the symptoms well enough — even if I couldn’t smell it myself, there must be a ton of royal pheromone wafting through the air. The pheromone couldn’t have come from Verity, since she was gone on a visit to Queen Fortitude; I suspected the Fasskisters had set off a big old gas bomb somewhere close by, and they were now up to no good in the palace.

  The palace guard had learned to take precautions against pheromone attacks, with gas masks part of their standard equipment and a few airtight security control rooms. I ran to the nearest of those rooms to see what was going on; the sergeant on duty told me the explosion wasn’t in the palace itself, but the Cryogenic Center next door. That was very bad… especially since the palace forces couldn’t spare many people to check out the situation there. They were afraid the big boom was just a diversion to draw guards outside the walls, while the real target was the palace.

  In the end, I ran to the Cryogenic Center by myself. Well, not by myself — I didn’t have a squad of warriors backing me up, but I sure wasn’t the only person hurrying to see what the explosion had done. Half the folks from Diplomats Row were racing in the same direction, Divians, Myriapods, even a thing that looked like a tumbleweed with eyestalks. Me, if I’d been a diplomat, I would have stayed in a nice safe embassy rather than going to gawk at the latest act of terrorism in a not-quite-declared war; but diplomats are real big fans of viewing atrocities close-up, and maybe getting their pictures taken in the process.

  By the time I got to the Cryogenics building, my sister was already standing outside, staring at a big hole in the wall. Gushers of steam poured out through the gap, so thick you couldn’t see a thing inside… but you could hear sounds like metal clanging and stuff getting thrown against other stuff. Someone in there was making a real mess.

  "Fasskisters?" I whispered to Sam.

  "Looks like their handiwork," Sam told me, not whispering at all. She didn’t seem to care if other bystanders heard every word she said. "First, pheromones to neutralize the locals. Then a bomb attack against young queens… frozen and unable to defend themselves. This has Fasskister written all over it."

  I stared at the steam pouring out into the night. "Maybe we should go in and see if someone needs help."

  Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "All right."

  We moved forward… and the crowd of gawkers parted to let us through. I think they were eager to see someone go inside: just not eager to be the ones to do it. Sam let me go ahead — I was the bodyguard, wasn’t I, the one who should take the lead — so I was the one who stuck my hand, slowly and carefully, into the steam.

  It was dry and very cold… not water steam at all, but some other chemical. Cold enough that real water ice was forming on the street under our feet; I could see my footprints in the frost as I walked forward. I could also see footprints, real human footprints, of someone who’d come out of the building sometime not so long ago — if it’d been more than a minute or two, the footprints would have got frosted over again.

  I turned to Sam. The steam was already icing her hair with frost. "Did you see anyone come out of the building before I got here?"

  She shook her head. "No. Why?"

  I just shrugged. Someone else could investigate this whole business later on, someone smarter than me. Dumb old Edward shouldn’t put on airs, thinking he’d found a Big Important Clue. Better just to stick to what I was good at: blundering into trouble.

  Close to the hole, it was possible to see a little way forward through the steam — nothing distinct, just some bright light inside, and a shadow moving in front of it. The clanging noises were still going on, and something that sounded like ripping. "Maybe you should stay out here," I told Sam. "It might not be safe."

  "Then it’s not safe for you either," she answered.

  "I’ll just—"

  She grabbed my arm and yanked me back. "Fasskister!" she shouted.

  Coming forward through the steam was something big and yellow, backlit by the light inside. For a moment, I thought it was a Fasskister, dressed in one of those queen-shaped robots. The thing had a jerky movement, not like the walk of a real queen… but then I started to wonder how a real queen would walk if she was cold and stiff from years in cryogenic storage.

  I pulled Sam to one side, out of the steam, out of the path of a queen who might be mad at the way she’d been woken up.

  The queen came slowly out onto the pavement, ice still coating much of her shell. Any lesser creature wouldn’t have been able to move; but it takes more than a layer of ice to stop a full-fledged Mandasar hive-queen. She was young, she was strong, she was a flaming saffron yellow far brighter than middle-aged Verity… and she was spitting with rage.

  "Sissen su?" she hissed. Who did this?

  "It might have been Fasskisters," Sam answered in Mandasar, "but we have no definite—"

  "Fasskisters!" the queen roared. "Alien saboteurs?"

  "We don’t know that," said a Myriapod back in the crowd. "Troyen has several factions who have resorted to violence in the past…"

  "And the high queen permits this?" the young queen asked. "Is she an utter fool?" "Verity’s real smart," I said. "Things are just kind of complicated."

  "No," the queen snapped, glaring at me. "Things are very simple. Someone has committed an act of wanton destruction, right outside the high queen’s palace… and all I see are outsiders come to leer at the chaos. Where is the queen herself?"

  "Um," I said in a weak voice. "She’s visiting Fortitude in Therol."

  "Leaving a vacuum in leadership here at home. Ridiculous! Appalling! How could she let this planet get so out of hand?" The queen took a deep breath. "Clearly, this Queen Verity is unfit to rule. It’s my duty to set things right."

  The young queen smashed her claws together the way queens do when declaring an edict — kind of like a human clapping hands imperiously. The action knocked off chunks of ice that had collected on her claws; chips of snow flew in all directions, spraying over Sam and me. By the time I’d wiped my eyes clear, the queen was stomping off into the darkness, leaving a trail of meltwater.

  "Um," I said. Which was when another queen staggered her way out of the steam, her face fuzzy white with frost. "Sissen su?" she growled.

  Twelve queens in all — every one that’d been sitting in cryosleep, dreaming of claiming a throne. None of them was interested in waiting a single instant longer, now that they were free. They all had the same reaction as the first one: Verity was doing a lousy job, and it was up to them to fix everything. After a while, it got kind of funny, listening to them say the same things. "It’s my duty to set things right."

  Even then, I knew better than to laugh.

  The unfrozen queens didn’t hang around Unshummin. Within hours they were spread all over the planet and within days, each had claimed a group of soldiers to protect herself: well-equipped soldiers from existing armies, won over by pheromones and promises and charisma. Remember that the Fasskisters had spent years on their whispering campaign, preaching how Verity and the lower queens were doing a lousy job running the planet. When a new bunch of queens came al
ong as a fresh alternative, a lot of folks were keen to give them a try.

  As for Verity… that’s when she finally lost heart. In public, she was still the tough old queen, in control and able to face down all opposition; but at night, she’d just sit in her private chambers, staring at the wall. Sometimes I sat with her; sometimes Sam did; sometimes the queen wanted to be alone.

  A month after the mess at the Cryogenic Center, I got summoned to the queen’s bedroom. Sam was already there, plus a shy little Mandasar girl I’d seen around the palace now and then — one of Verity’s many children, which kind of made her my stepdaughter. I’d tried to keep track of all the kids’ names, but with Verity laying an egg every twelve weeks it got tricky to remember after a while. I thought this girl was called Listener, with the hidden name Yeerlevin; but Verity introduced her as Innocence.

  That was the kind of name only given to queens. Which pretty much told me what was going on. It would soon be that week in spring when Verity’s venom cycle started. In previous years, the high queen had always been too busy to nurse a successor; now, she was going to do it, because she might not have another chance. My sister and Verity wanted Innocence to be a big secret. With twelve outlaw queens already terrorizing the countryside, people might not appreciate Verity mothering up another contender for power. If word got out, a lot of folks would also take it as a sign Verity didn’t expect to live too much longer… which was absolutely true, but it would still wreck public confidence. Finally, if the other queens heard about little Innocence, they’d see her as a perfect target for kidnapping, holding hostage, all that stuff — not just now, but for a long time to come, till the girl could take care of herself. She was only six; after a year of nursing with Verity, Innocence might brighten from gentle brown to royal yellow, but she’d still just be a seven-year-old with a lot of growing to do.

  So Sam and I were going to be the girl’s glashpodin: like godparents, charged with taking care of her in secret till she came of age. The job would start immediately. For one thing, Sam had to assemble a team of doctors to take care of Innocence through the year-long transformation — doctors who could be counted on not to blab, and who could also deal with any complications that might crop up while the little girl changed. Becoming a queen wasn’t always an easy process; in fact, the poor kid could easily stay sick and bleary through the whole thing.

  As it happened, I was the one who got sick and bleary. The very day Innocence began to nurse, I caught the Coughing Jaundice.

  If you want to know how I caught the disease, I had no idea at the time. There was a kind of embarrassing ceremony in the royal chambers at midnight — Sam and me standing there as witnesses, while Verity asked the Four-Clawed Goddess for blessing; then poor little Innocence, terrified out of her mind, took a tiny tiny sip of venom from both of Verity’s stingers… after which, a horde of doctors descended on the child, taking blood tests, sputum samples, and heaven knows what else. Innocence stayed snuggled up with her mother for the night, I went back to my room alone, for fear a maidservant might get curious where I’d been so late…

  …and I just never woke up the next morning. When I finally came to, it was ten days later and I was in the special secret infirmary that’d originally been arranged for Innocence. She was there too, just a bit under the weather, nothing serious… and most of the doctors who were supposed to be looking after the girl were locked full-time on my case, trying to keep me alive.

  In a way, my condition helped keep Innocence a secret that whole year. Folks in the palace knew about the private infirmary — you can never hide things from servants — but everybody thought the doctors were for me. Innocence was just one of Verity’s many daughters, assigned by her mother to keep me company… and occasionally to see the queen in private to "report on my condition": a pretty good cover for the many times Innocence wanted to see Verity alone for a few minutes, and sip a bit more venom.

  So Innocence and I got to know each other… when I wasn’t busy coughing my head off or lying jaundiced and comatose. Yes, I’d tried to spend time with all Verity’s children — my stepkids — but most of them seemed pretty uncomfortable having a human think he was their father. Me, I wasn’t so great at being a dad either; my own father hadn’t set much of an example, and anyway, what felt natural to a human parent was nothing like Mandasar kids expected. As just one example, the little boys had a habit of trying to clip me with their claws. Their baby pincers wouldn’t have done a thing to a real Mandasar’s carapace, but they could cut up a human nice and bloody. End result: I was pretty darned useless for playing that particular game.

  But with Innocence, I could just talk. She snuggled with me too, because Verity was too busy for that kind of thing. The poor kid needed tons of snuggling, because she was halfway to terrified most of the time. Strange things were happening to her body. Doctors were constantly poking at her. None of her siblings or friends were allowed to see her. Worst of all, people kept telling her she’d have to rule the planet someday, and that she was going to become huge and dangerous and intimidating like Verity herself. Who wouldn’t be frightened by that?

  It helped her to be with me. Sam said it was good even when I was sick or delirious — Innocence stuck right by me, holding my hand, giving me sips of water, talking and talking and talking. It gave the girl something to think about besides herself. Kind of like a sick pet. And she had queenly instincts waking up inside her: the need to be in charge of someone, to give orders. "Time for the muscle stimulators, Daddy Edward; and don’t say you can exercise on your own, because you don’t. The only reason you’re strong enough to push me away is because I use the machine on you when you sleep. So stay still and let me strap this to your legs."

  Even six-year-old queens know how to lay down the law.

  A year passed. Sam told me they held another ceremony when Innocence took her last drink of Verity’s venom — just a tiny tiny sip like the very first, because she didn’t need any more. The little brown gentle had become a little yellow queen: no longer scared of the future, even if she should have been.

  They held the ceremony in my sickroom, just so they could say I was there. My body may have been present, but my mind wasn’t: far off and unconscious, suffering through the final throes of my disease. A few days later, I finally woke up… and not a single cough in my throat. Another week, and Innocence was threatening to tie me down again. I swore I was feeling a hundred times better. She told me a blood-consort wasn’t allowed to argue with a queen. "You’re staying in bed, Daddy Edward, till Dr. Gashwan says you’re healthy."

  But it didn’t work out that way.

  I woke alone in the night, wondering what the awful beeping sound was. Some annoying medical monitor? But there weren’t any nurses rushing to check my condition. In fact, there wasn’t even a light coming from the desk outside my room. Pitch-blackness, and nothing but that continuing beep-beep-beep.

  The sound came from my wrist. Some navy someone was signaling a Mayday. It might have been anybody from the diplomatic mission, but I knew in my heart it was Sam.

  Without thinking, I rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the door. After being sick so long, I was nowhere near my physical peak, but Innocence and the muscle-working machines had kept me from going to seed. I could walk just fine and even run a bit if worse came to worst.

  And maybe it had. There were no lights anywhere, not even on the medical sensors that were supposed to watch me night and day — someone must have cut the power, and even the emergency generators. That meant big trouble. I didn’t know much about what’d happened in the year gone by, just that things had gone down hill. A long way down hill. Maybe so bad that one of the outlaw queens had decided to attack Unshummin palace.

  Outside my room, the doctors and nurses were gone. In their place, five palace guards wearing gas masks had ranged themselves around the room, all with souped-up stun-pistols aimed at the far door… like they expected an enemy to come smashing through any second.

 
; "What’s going on?" I whispered.

  They whirled on me, and for a heartbeat I thought they were going to shoot; but one of them, a sergeant, snapped, "Hold your fire," and nobody pulled the trigger. "Go back to bed, consort," the sergeant told me. "There’s been a mutiny. It’s not safe in the halls."

  "Is the queen all right?" I asked. "And my sister?"

  "Don’t know." He glanced at the others, then turned back to me. "Our assignment is to keep you safe."

  "Me? Who cares about me?" I held up my wrist; it was still beeping. "You and your men are going to help me save someone who’s in trouble. Do you hear me?"

  For a second he didn’t answer: his antennas bent just a bit, as if he was smiling. Then he snapped a salute. "Yes, sir. We’ll follow you."

  The six of us raced through dark halls, tracking the Mayday. Once or twice, we passed close to fighting; we’d hear the whir of stunners somewhere down a corridor, then running feet and voices shouting orders. But none of the action ever came our way. We saw plenty of bodies, unconscious and dead, but nobody stopped us as we raced straight from the infirmary to Queen Verity’s chambers… the source of the Mayday.

  Outside the door, the queen’s personal guards had been butchered. Inside, so had the queen — decapitated by some assassin who’d crept unseen through the palace during all the ruckus. Verity’s head had been laid on a big serving plate in the middle of her own dining table.

  A few steps away sprawled my sister’s body, apparently stabbed through the heart while trying to defend the queen. Sam had triggered the Mayday… and even as I stared at the blood spilling from her chest, the beeping signal stopped. I knew what that meant — not enough bioelectric energy left in her body to power the transmitter.