I overrode the small viewscreen, replacing its image of Terra with one of Saturn.
“I don’t have to defeat your giant space gun. I just have to defeat you.”
I pressed a blinking red button on my exo’s arm. There were easier ways to activate my weapon, but nothing quite so dramatic. I was here to make a point.
Nothing happened.
“You’ll have to give it a few minutes,” I said. “The de-gravitators probably need to warm up.”
The Warmaster said, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“I’d think it would be obvious,” I said. “I’m about to scatter your world across the system as so much cosmic dust.”
He marched over to me. “You dare threaten Saturn.”
“I didn’t know that was against the rules.”
His hands balled into fists indistinguishable from boulders.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said. “If you kill me, the process will be irreversible. Within minutes, Saturn will disintegrate. Four minutes, by my calculations.”
The Warmaster waved his hand with a chuckle. “You’re bluffing, Emperor. You know that if anything were to happen to my world, I’d have no choice but to order the destruction of Terra.”
“Mutually assured destruction,” I said. “It’s not ideal, but it is functional.”
I pointed to the slight wobble in Saturn’s ring formations.
“Of course, this is built upon the assumption that your giant space gun actually works.”
“What are you implying, Neptunon?”
“Oh, nothing. Only that I’ve never found any records of the Glorious Triumph engaging in battle. Outside of a single demonstration on one of your own moons, Mimas, I can’t find any record of her even firing. Rather a small moon, wasn’t it?”
My exo beeped. Again, unnecessary but useful for demonstration purposes.
“At this stage, the atmosphere will begin to disperse.” I zoomed the view for a better look. “Observe the funnel effects on the poles. A peculiar phenomenon. Rather beautiful though a bit inconvenient for those on the planet itself.”
I took a seat.
“I can stop this at any time. It’s up to you.”
The Warmaster pounded his fist into the table, breaking it in two. “This isn’t war. It’s genocide. These aren’t even your own people you’re defending.”
“Does it make any difference?” I asked. “The Terrans are my responsibility.”
“And Saturn is mine!”
“Then do what you have to,” I said. “Surrender. In forty seconds, the process is irreversible. Your family, your friends, everyone you know and billions you don’t know will die. I expect a few million are already dead.”
“How can you be so cavalier about this?”
I wasn’t, but I had to appear to be. I had just killed millions and was possibly about to destroy billions more. And if Saturn perished, then the remaining Saturnite fleet would certainly take its wrath out on Terra below, leading to billions more deaths.
It was all just numbers. Statistically insignificant, really. A few million life-forms snuffed out with the push of a button. It didn’t feel like that anymore. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t science. It was just ugly, indiscriminate death.
Everything I’d ever done had inevitably led to this moment, and in another, I would discover where it would end. I was already a monster. How great a monster was yet to be determined.
My exo beeped. “There’s nothing noble about fighting a war you’ve already lost. Not when your opponent is polite enough to offer you an alternative. Fifteen seconds, Warmaster.”
The countdown beeped with each passing second. The Warmaster wrestled with his pride. I pondered the lives of untold trillions of life-forms being decided by the actions of two beings sitting in a gray conference chamber.
With only three seconds to spare, the Warmaster, his small black eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, grunted.
“We surrender.”
I pushed the button.
The Warmaster slumped in his chair. A great and powerful general, now rendered impotent. “What are your demands?”
“The viewscreen doesn’t show the cities in chaos, the floods, the aftermath of quakes. And you’ll have to contend with disrupted weather patterns, a shattered biosphere, and inevitable and disastrous tectonic shifts. Saturn will survive, but it will be many long years of struggle ahead of your people. Go home, Warmaster. Rebuild. But above all, stay away from my world.”
He said nothing, but one of the guards stepped forward.
“That’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I asked.
I left the Glorious Triumph without incident, but I didn’t leave alone.
Its ghosts would be with me a long, long time.
15
The decoded disc had coordinates. They pointed us in the direction of Antarctica. I didn’t have a secret compound there, and as far as I knew, there was little of interest on the frozen continent. But it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Terra was a world of mysteries.
My saucer set down at the landing site, surrounded by an endless white expanse. We disembarked. Venusians were warm-blooded, but it was, evolutionarily speaking, a new development in her species. Ice and snow still put them on edge. Zala adjusted the heat setting on the containment softsuit.
The helmet obscured her face, rendering it unreadable. “This is it?”
“According to the coordinates, yes,” I replied.
Snarg skittered across the ice. A stiff breeze kicked up, and ice was already forming on her armor plating. The crunch of frost accompanied our steps.
“There’s nothing here,” said Zala.
Snarg shrieked. She’d found something of interest. We pushed through the wind to see a cave entrance she’d discovered.
The mouth and the tunnel just beyond were barely big enough for us to squeeze through. It would’ve been the perfect spot for an ambush, but Zala suggested we enter. Her dislike of the frozen landscape overwhelmed her warrior training. She did insist on going first. I followed. Snarg brought up the rear.
It grew warmer as we went deeper. There was a slight incline in the cavern, leading us down into the subterranean mystery. Perhaps it was some long-lost entrance to the Undersphere. The kingdom of the mole people extended beneath the Americas, the Atlantic Ocean, and most of Europe. There was a second, more primitive mole culture under Asia and Australia, but as far as I knew, there was nothing of the sort under Antarctica. Admittedly, I hadn’t given it a thorough survey yet.
“Shouldn’t it be dark?” asked Zala. “Where’s the light coming from?”
It was a good question. There was no visible source of illumination, but the cave was getting brighter, not darker, as we plunged on.
We reached the end of the tunnel, emerging on a ledge above a vast cavern overlooking a sprawling city carved from the stone. Hundreds of tubular creatures moved through its streets. Zala ducked down, but we were so high up, I calculated it was unlikely they’d see us.
“Have you seen these creatures before?” she asked.
“They resemble nothing I’ve come across,” I replied as I zoomed my exo sensors on the creatures. I’d catalogued thousands upon thousands of life-forms throughout the system and beyond. Terra was uniquely populated by a diversity of intelligent beings, and one more wouldn’t have been surprising. But the discovery of yet another new species was an unexpected pleasure.
They moved via bending end over end on their stalks. They had rudimentary feelers on either end that served to balance them. I noticed spots and orifices in the center that probably served sensory purposes.
Something shuffled up behind us. Zala whirled, her gun already drawn.
A contingent of two dozen creatures approached us. They produced peculiar whistles and chirps as they advanced.
I put my hand on Zala’s gun, forcing her to lower the weapon.
“They could be hostile,” she said.
“They might be th
inking the same thing about you,” I replied. “This is a first-contact situation. Let’s not assume we have to shoot anyone until we see otherwise.”
The crowd divided, and a beast lumbered forward. It appeared to be little more than several thousand pounds of protoplasm wrapped in a greasy sheath of skin. An especially thick and tall worm slid off the beast’s back. This particular worm had a pair of underdeveloped wings growing from its center.
I assumed it was a leader.
There was no way to know how these creatures communicated. Or how they viewed the universe. The sentient helium entities of the Sol Collective, for example, had no concept of sound and communicated via flashes of colored light. Jupiter and Sol had nearly gone to war over a Jupitorn ambassador wearing an accidental assortment of clothing that translated into Your mothercloud has a high melting point.
It was impossible to tell these creatures’ intent. They had no faces to read, and their bodies were so alien there was no way to glean anything from their body language. But they had yet to exhibit any obvious hostility.
“Greetings,” I said. I had to start somewhere.
The leader flapped his wings. His reply, coming from somewhere in the center of his stalk, was perfectly spoken.
“Are you Emperor Mollusk?”
“I am.”
The creatures erupted in a cheerful chorus. A contingency erupted into a whistling rendition of my favorite Neptunon composition, Scrog’s Ode to Bell Curves.
The leader said, “I am called Hiss, and it is my honor to welcome you. We have been waiting for you for a long, long time, Emperor Mollusk. It was foretold in the days of old that a savior would appear. And that he would have a body of metal and a divine intellect.”
“I don’t believe it,” mumbled Zala.
“And now, at long last, you have finally come,” said Hiss. “We had never given up hope, but some of us did wonder when you would get here.”
“Wait a minute!” shouted Zala. “Wait one second!”
The chorus stopped singing. The crowd stopped cheering.
“Who told you this?” she asked.
“Oracles,” replied Hiss.
“And seers,” added another.
“And at least one soothsayer,” said a third.
“For it was written on the Great Stone of Prophecies,” said Hiss, “that a warrior of legend, a conqueror of worlds and master of the primal forces of the universe itself, would appear in the Crack of Revelation. And it is written that all on the Great Stone shall come to pass.”
“Written where?” asked Zala.
“Why, on the Great Stone, of course,” said Hiss.
“It was written on the stone that things written on the stone would come to pass,” she said. “And you know this is true because it was written on the stone.”
The crowd of things murmured their approval.
“That really doesn’t make any sense,” said Zala.
“It was written that you would not understand,” replied Hiss.
“So now I’m on the Stone of Prophecy too?”
“It is written that Emperor Mollusk would be accompanied by a glorious beast and a hideous warrior companion.” He slumped. His wings drooped. “No offense intended. It wasn’t I who transcribed the prophecy.”
“Don’t mind her,” I said. “She’s just upset that she gets third billing.”
Snarg chirped and clicked her mandibles. Zala grumbled.
“Your prophets said I’d be emerging through this hole today?” I asked.
Hiss chuckled. “The Great Stone doesn’t specify time. So ever since your name was first inscribed on it, we’ve gathered here, waiting for your arrival.”
“There’s not much else to do down here,” said another creature.
“Yes, ours is a simple life,” said Hiss. “Graze the fungal fields, offer a sacrifice to our savage god, read the Great Stone, wait at the Crack of Revelation. It’s not much, but it is deeply rewarding in its stoic beauty.”
“Hear, hear,” said a follower.
The chorus blasted the cavern with more singing.
Zala pulled me aside and turned away from the crowd. She whispered, “I don’t like this. It’s clear that this is all a trap and these creatures, whatever they are, were briefed by the Brain.”
“It is the most obvious explanation,” I replied. “Though the obvious explanation isn’t always the right one.”
Zala sighed. Her breath fogged up her helmet, so she snapped it open. “Don’t tell me you believe these creatures have actually been waiting for you.”
“It can’t hurt to hear them out, can it? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
She shrugged. “Just as long as you don’t believe this prophecy nonsense.”
“Oh, I don’t,” I said. “Although wouldn’t it be intriguing if it were true?”
“Your curiosity is going to be the death of you yet, Emperor.”
“There are worse character flaws to die for,” I said.
We turned. The creatures stared at us. Or at least they bent forward on eager stalks.
I asked, “So how can I save you today?”
Because the creatures had no official name for themselves (and indeed the very concept seemed to elude them) I settled on calling them Stalks. They seemed confused by the concept of needing an identifier, and from snippets of conversation, I surmised that they were the only form of life, aside from a red fungus they fed on, in the cavern. Even the fleshy pudding beast we rode was one of them. Less of a beast of burden and more of a peculiar mutant offshoot. It lumbered its way down a winding trail into the cavern’s depths.
“In the beginning, there was the Great Seed,” Hiss said.
“How many great things do your people have?” asked Zala. “Maybe you should get a thesaurus.”
Hiss continued without trace of insult. “The Great Seed spawned the Great Gynoecium, which in turn spawned all life. It spread throughout the universe and for a long time, there was prosperity throughout. The fungal fields provided sustenance for all, including the Gynoecium.
“But then, the Great and Terrible Gynoecium’s hunger grew beyond the ability of the fields to satisfy. In order to appease it, it was deemed necessary to offer sacrifices. As time passed, the Gynoecium demanded more and more of us. Now it devours at least thirty or forty a day, and if something is not done soon, then we are sure to be driven to extinction, leaving only an empty universe in our passing.”
“You do realize there’s more to the universe than this cave, right?” asked Zala.
Hiss chuckled. “There are those who say there is a place beyond where the fungus is damp and plentiful.”
“Heretics!” shouted several Stalks.
“Most of us are wise enough not to believe such foolishness,” said Hiss. “For if there were such a place, it would surely be written on the Great Stone.”
“How long have your people lived down here?” asked Zala.
“It is written that we have lived here since the dawn of time.”
Zala laughed. “If you’ve lived underground your entire existence, then explain to me why you have the concept of dawn. It should be meaningless to you.”
“We telepathically extract the appropriate words from your primitive minds to facilitate communication. Our own natural language has no such expression.”
“Isn’t that convenient?”
“Yes, it really is,” agreed the thing.
“But where do you think we came from?” asked Zala.
“You came from the Crack, of course.”
“Yes, but what do you think is on the other side of that crack?”
“What do you mean?”
Zala said, “If we came through it, it must lead somewhere. It’s not like you believe we just materialized out of nowhere.”
The Stalks murmured.
“You’ll have to excuse my companion,” I said. “She’s a bit peculiar.”
Zala snarled. If it had been more convenient, I might have suggested
to her that this was neither the time nor place to challenge the Stalks’ view of the cosmos. Instead, I turned the conversation toward more productive ends.
“So there haven’t been any other visitors from the Crack?” I asked.
“None,” said Hiss. “As it was written.”
If he wasn’t lying, then it meant that the Brain had nothing to do with the Stalks. Deception was possible but I deemed it unlikely. These creatures appeared to be largely incapable of deception. Or perhaps they were so very good at it, aided by their strange bodies and unreadable natures, that I was entirely wrong.
“So I’m assuming you need my help with the Great Gynoecium,” I said.
“Yes. The Gynoecium’s hunger threatens to destroy all life.”
“So you need us…Emperor to kill it?” asked Zala.
The Stalks exhaled in a great high-pitched wail I took for a collective gasp.
“The Gynoecium is the source of all life. To destroy it would be to doom everything.”
“Then what is he supposed to do?” she asked.
“He’s here to save us,” said Hiss with a chuckle. “How he does so has not been written.”
“It’s a vague prophecy,” admitted another.
“The details are unimportant.” Hiss wobbled in a circular motion. “It is not the way to question what must come to pass.”
Zala wasn’t going to let it go that easily, but then we entered the city of the Stalks. Cheering, they parted for our procession. Several of the Stalks placed oddly shaped metal instruments against their bodies and unleashed a discordant celebratory tune. The citizens of this hidden civilization danced and undulated, spraying colorful bits of mucus like confetti.
Emperor Mollusk Versus The Sinister Brain Page 15
