“No, I didn’t. It doesn’t serve any internal purpose.”
“Then why was it in there?”
“An excellent question.” I tucked the disc into one of my exo’s storage compartments. “One that we’ll have to save for later.”
Gorvud escorted me to the medical suite where Zala was being treated and then excused himself to check on his team. They hadn’t been seriously injured, but even a casual backhand from a regressed Jupitorn was going to cause some bruising.
Zala was strapped down in a bed. She snarled at me when I entered. The vitals monitors beeped insistently with my arrival.
“We’re having regression,” said the Lunan doctor. “Prepare the sedative.”
Zala scowled. “Emperor, if you allow them to inject me with anything, you’ll wish I had killed you.”
“She’s fine,” I said. “You can release her.”
“Are you certain, Lord Mollusk?” asked the doctor. “We’re getting elevated levels of activity in both her primary and secondary adrenal glands.”
“That’s as calm as she gets while I’m around,” I said.
The medical staff undid the straps and began treating her injuries.
“Don’t worry,” said the doctor. “We have the finest medical facilities here. You should be good as new in another hour.”
Wincing, Zala sat up. “What happened?”
“You tried to kill me,” I said. “We’ll attribute your failure up to the catalyzer’s negative impact on your fighting skills, if that makes you feel better.”
“You had to open that box, didn’t you?”
“And you had to stay by my side while I did it, didn’t you?”
“I’m here to protect you from yourself, Emperor.”
“And a terrific job you did of it too. Except for the trying-to-kill-me part. But nobody’s perfect.”
Zala pushed away a nurse and tried to stand.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” said the doctor. “You have severely sprained both ankles as well as your right knee.”
She grunted, testing the weight on her ankles.
The doctor scratched her furry head. “Amazing. I can’t believe you’re able to stand.”
Zala laughed. “This is nothing. I once fought a razortail trukyut while recovering from three broken ribs, a lacerated aorta, and the vor lung pox.”
“And we’re all very impressed,” I said, “but if you’re to be any good to me at all, you should let the doctors patch you up. If I have to look after you, then it defeats the purpose of having a bodyguard, doesn’t it?”
She knew I was right, though she didn’t admit it aloud. But sat back in the bed. When the doctor approached her with an injector, Zala asked, “What’s that?”
“An all-in-one pick-me-up,” I said. “Designed specifically with your biology and injuries in mind. It’s really quite something. You’ll be on your feet in no time.”
She said, “That’s all?”
“That’s all,” I replied.
“It won’t have any side effects?”
The doctor said, “They’ll be some incidental stiffness. And the acceleration to your metabolism might mean a marked increase in appetite along with dry mouth and possibly trouble sleeping for a day or two.”
“And that’s all?” repeated Zala.
I said, “Oh, and there’s also a nanite that will attach itself to your aorta and self-destruct upon my command.”
She glowered.
I chuckled. “Really, Zala, when will you trust me?”
Her blank expression answered the question, but she allowed the injection. While we waited for the serum to do its work, Zala lay in her bed.
“Where’s Kreegah?” she asked.
“He’ll be asleep for a while. At least a week. Possibly more. I sprayed him with the concentrated extract of the striped tulip. Harmless to most life-forms, but a powerful sedative to a Jupitorn. It’s usually fatal in the wild as the tulip sucks out its victim’s juices. But in this environment, it’ll just be a refreshing nap, followed by a moonslug-watching tour as my way of apologizing.”
“And you just happened to have that sedative at the ready.”
“It pays to be prepared,” I said. “It wouldn’t make much sense to bring a powerhouse like Kreegah along without taking precautions.”
“And what about me?” she asked. “Do you have precautions to deal with me, should it come up? Or am I not privy to that information?”
“You’re easy. I’ll just kill you when I have to.”
“Good plan,” she said. “Although shouldn’t that be if you have to kill me?”
“I think we both know where our current leads, Zala, and neither of us seem very interested in swimming against it.”
We shared a knowing smile.
“But you didn’t kill me this time.”
“It wasn’t necessary. This time.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t about to allow the Brain to deprive me of an asset. You’re just the right ratio of usefulness to expendability that makes you so handy to keep around.”
“I’m touched, Emperor. Truly, I am. So did you design the gas bomb?” she asked.
“It possesses certain design elements that I’m partial to,” I said, “but it’s not something I’ve done much research on. It seems to use some very simple research as a jumping-off point, but it’s mostly an original design.”
“Do you know what that means? The Brain is getting smarter. At first, he was merely aping your scientific malevolence. But how long will it be before he is taking it in his own twisted directions?”
“You sound like you’re more worried about him than me.”
She smiled ruefully. “As much as it pains me to admit this, Emperor”—Zala winced as she shifted in place—“you have always been bound by a certain bizarre sense of fair play. There are things you’ve done that are insane and homicidal, but you can usually be expected to follow a code of conduct. You’ve never been enamored of needless destruction. And while you are ruthless in achieving your goals, given the choice, you will still usually seek the subtler path in reaching them.”
She paused, but I didn’t respond.
“Do you disagree?” she asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it before,” I replied.
She laughed and then bit her lip as a pain ran through her side.
“It’s amazing that someone who claims to be as intelligent as you are has spent more time designing doomsday machines and time radios than contemplating his own motivations. Don’t misunderstand me. You are still a menace to the civilized universe. In the grand scheme, your methods make you far more dangerous than the Brain. But in the short term, the Brain is likely to do something even you wouldn’t imagine doing. Who knows what possible irreversible damage he could do in a moment of ambitious stupidity?”
“Wait. Are you saying he’s smarter or stupider than me?” I asked.
“I’m saying he’s both. He’s already nearly destroyed this planet using your research. And if the idea of your science in the hands of someone unfettered by even your flawed ethics doesn’t frighten you, then you’re not as bright as you think you are.”
I pondered the various technologies I’d unlocked in my studies. Thousands of devices and ideas that could devastate a city, a country, a planet, the system. A handful that could endanger the entire universe. It was perhaps a bit foolish of me to have laid the groundwork for the star smasher or the penultimate nullifier, even if only as intellectual amusements. Perhaps even more foolish to put them down on paper at all. But it was my nature.
I’d convinced myself that all the truly dangerous ideas were only ideas. The half-rendered musings of a superior intellect. Unfinished and unlikely to lead anywhere. But they didn’t have to work exactly as expected to do immeasurable damage.
I was on the other side of this evil genius scenario. I didn’t like it.
“What do we do next?” asked Zala.
“I’m surprised you haven’t suggested g
oing into hiding yet again.”
“Your arrogance has unleashed this maniacal would-be conqueror on the system, but you may be the only one who can stop him before he does something terrible. For the sake of my precious homeworld and every other planet in the system, my personal desire to bring you to justice must become secondary to that.”
“This is more serious than I imagined,” I said.
“It’s every bit as serious as you know it to be, Emperor. And that’s why I know you have some sort of plan formulating already.”
I handed her the small disc.
“A holograph disc? That’s a bit dated, isn’t it?” She turned it in the light, showing the almost imperceptible indentations in its sides. “This one doesn’t look to have much data on it.”
“I haven’t read it yet, but I’m guessing it’s a simple message. I found it in the catalyzer.”
“The same device that nearly drove me to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess. Another secret message from your mysterious inside agent? The very same mysterious agent who led us into a trap in the first place.”
“No, the decoded message on Dinosaur Island was obviously planted there by the Brain.”
Zala sat up. The serum must’ve been working.
“If the Brain laid one false trail, what makes you think he didn’t just lay another for you?”
“An educated guess. The Brain probably wouldn’t expect me to follow a second clue after giving me a false one.”
“So your reasoning is that he wouldn’t bother dropping a second false clue after giving you the first one? Because he wouldn’t believe you’d follow it. Except that he has access to knowledge from the future and already knows everything you’re going to do before you do it anyway. How can you possibly do anything he doesn’t expect?”
“It’s not as if the anti-time radio gave him a minute-by-minute recount of how things would unfold. He’s like a starship navigating with an incomplete chart with certain events marking the way while trusting there won’t be an exploding supernova found in the blank spaces.”
I could see she was unconvinced, but she shrugged. “Fine. I’ll pretend like I understand that.”
Again, I was surprised. “You don’t want to argue some more about it?”
“Why? It’s not as if I have any suggestions myself. Even if I did, you’d just dismiss them. So let’s skip the debate and get on with it.”
“Very sensible,” I said.
Half sneering, half smiling, she gave me back the disc. “Just decrypt the damn thing already.”
Haunted Saturn
The war against the Saturnites had not been going as well as I hoped.
The pointed Saturnite spacecrafts were not the most powerful craft in the system, but they were cheap, efficient, and expendable. Saturnite tactics were usually limited to overwhelming force, and an endless swarm of disposable fighter craft had won them many a war against more nuanced opponents.
If that didn’t work, they would bring out the Glorious Triumph, the flagship of their fleet. The functional rectangular craft was little more than a flying weapons platform. Cannons and missiles and blasters and ballistic meteor guns and moon-melting heat rays were mounted on every inch of the thing. The craft had three separate doomsday weapons aboard her, including the dreaded System Killer, a bomb so powerful it could destroy all nine planets with the push of a button. Or so the Saturnites claimed.
Given their love of firepower, few doubted it existed.
The debate over the bomb’s plausibility was usually a secondary concern, considering that even without it the Triumph could ruin a planet in a few minutes. Saturnites had won wars just by mentioning the Triumph in casual conversation.
And after three months of war with the Saturnites, the Triumph orbited Terra, a technological god of death and destruction.
My saucer and its automated fighter escort approached the flagship. A small fleet of Saturnite craft encircled us. It would have been simple enough for the enemy to blast me, but what would have been the fun in that? The Saturnites were here to watch me grovel.
I landed in the Triumph’s only docking bay. Barely big enough for a dozen ships. Anything larger would’ve required removing one of the countless starboard polar de-atomizers.
I exited the ship. The Saturnite Warmaster General himself greeted me. Along with an attachment of imperial guards. The Warmaster measured nine feet tall with a turquoise complexion. Medals covered his dress uniform, and he stood with his arms folded behind his back and a glint in his obsidian eyes.
He smirked. “You’re Warlord Mollusk?”
“I brought my Conqueror model exo. It’s very tall and shiny with gratuitous spikes. But it just seems like so much glitter. Are we here to pose or to negotiate the terms of surrender?”
The Warmaster nodded. “I see that you’re very direct. I can respect that. Did you bring any security?”
“I have a few robots aboard my ship, but they won’t be necessary.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d be so relaxed about this.”
“It’s not personal,” I replied. “Just two civilizations hammering out a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
We were shuttled to a meeting room. I didn’t question why the room was so far from the craft’s only landing bay. The Triumph wasn’t a diplomacy ship, and Saturnites weren’t a diplomatic people. Even their meeting room was a small gray chamber with a table and a few chairs. There was a viewscreen with an image of Terra. It was a very small screen, no doubt there to remind me how tiny my world was in comparison to the vast Saturnite war machine.
“I’d offer you a tour, Mollusk,” said the Warmaster, “but of course, the inner workings of the Triumph are a classified military secret.”
“Yes, it’s a very fine giant space gun you have here. Very intimidating. Very frightening. Impressive, if a bit conventional. But it does get the job done.”
The Warmaster scoffed, which was difficult for a Saturnite to do, given his craggy stone face. “The Triumph is the greatest weapon the system has ever known. The bloodsucking fiends of Dread Planet V took one look at this ship, and rerouted their fleet into a black hole rather than face her in battle. Even you, the great and feared Warlord of Terra, Emperor Mollusk…” He stifled a chuckle. Or pretended to stifle it. “…trembles at her mere arrival and gave up your senseless fight against us.”
“Oh, I think there’s been a miscommunication. I’m not here to offer my surrender. I’m here to negotiate the conditions of yours.”
The Warmaster and his guards laughed.
“Emperor…if I may call you Emperor…”
I nodded.
“Emperor, you’ve put up a hell of a fight for this little world of yours. Given your resources, the limits of the Terran population and technology, you’ve managed the impossible. You’ve forestalled the inevitable. And we salute you as a worthy opponent.”
They slapped their right shoulders with their left hands. The Saturnites had an elaborate system of salutes. The right shoulder slap was reserved for respected enemies. Though I was a touch insulted I hadn’t been given the double-chest thump offered to feared adversaries. But that was a bit ambitious, even for me.
“Our intelligence reports that you are stretched to your limit, Emperor. You could still fight, of course. But we both know where that would go. More damage to the world, more Terran casualties. In the end, this war will still end the same.”
“There are those who say there’s nobility in fighting to the very end,” I replied.
“There’s nothing noble about fighting a war you’ve already lost. Not when your opponent is polite enough to offer you an alternative. Surrender now, and we will allow you to remain Warlord of Terra. We really don’t care about the Terran population. You can continue to rule over them as you wish.”
“And all you want in return is the right to take whatever you desire from the planet,” I said.
“We’ll leave yo
u enough for your own needs.”
“And what about the Terrans?” I asked.
The Warmaster intertwined his fingers, deliberately rubbing his stone skin together to produce a grinding noise.
“What about them? You conquered them. We conquered you. By my calculations, that puts them two steps below my own concerns.”
“But not my own,” I said.
“Forgive me, but haven’t you programmed the Terrans to adore you, regardless of circumstances? If you tell them to do what we say, they’ll gladly do so, won’t they?”
“They’d cheerfully hand over their world with a word from me. They’d even throw you a parade, create an international holiday.”
“A pleasant thought,” said the Warmaster. “We’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“Here’s my counteroffer. You will agree to complete, unconditional surrender. You will withdraw your fleet and cease all hostilities.”
I leaned forward and imitated his pose. Even intertwined my delicate fingers through the sound of metal against metal wasn’t quite as intimidating.
“And in return, I won’t destroy Saturn.”
He smiled but didn’t quite laugh. “Your bravado is almost endearing.”
“I don’t do bravado,” I said. “And if you want to make this about who can twist the powers of science toward the better doomsday device, I’m afraid it’s a game you can’t win.”
“Am I expected to believe that you have a weapon capable of disabling the Triumph?”
“Oh no. I have something better.”
Emperor Mollusk Versus The Sinister Brain Page 14
