Rogue Galaxy, Episode 3: The Golem Gambit

by J. Boyett

  “Even a rudimentary spell shield ought to have kept off the worst of that kind of attack,” said Witch Walsh. “Long enough for the victims to get away, at least.”

  “You didn’t feel how strong he is,” said Dobbler. “And maybe it was a non-thaumaturgical ship, voyaging without faster-than-light capability. Like, a generation ship, from somewhere within a hundred light-years or so.” At that, everyone looked even more dubious. “Look, I don’t have any clue how that other ship got here! All I know is what Du’Thokk did to it. And what he’d like to do with this one, if he gets his hands on it.” He sought out Captain Farraday’s eyes again. “He’d like to cruise around and make more Bone Worlds.”

  “But why?” repeated Tracy Fiquet, this time stepping forward, her hands clasped before her chest.

  “Ask him yourself,” snapped Dobbler.

  Farraday gripped Dobbler’s shoulder. “That is not going to happen,” he promised. Then he returned to the others. “Dr. Carlson, Witch Walsh, take good care of Ensign Dobbler.... And as for the rest of you, for the last time, come with me! I mean, what is the point of being captain if I can’t get people into the tech mage lab when I want?”

  Seven

  Jennifer, standing with Cosway at the edge of the field that held the natives’ village, near the pen in which snarling Boulton was held captive, looked out at the busy Helpers. There were about two dozen of them occupied in the construction of what was apparently the traditional dueling platform, a big raised stage with timber guard rails. They were using some draft animals that looked like miniature wild aurochs to drag over the timber; apparently there was a pre-cut supply of it nearby. Otherwise the little ladies were doing the whole job with nothing but stone tools, wooden pegs, and strips of dried animal hides to tie things together. Despite being terrified, Jennifer was pretty impressed. She judged there were a couple dozen Helpers assigned to the project, which was as many as she’d seen and for all she knew constituted the whole community, besides Du’Thokk. Heck, for all she knew, they constituted the whole dang species.

  Her fingerprints burshed against her utility belt, and in particular against the little black box hooked onto it, near her right hip. Du’Thokk had seemed to take no notice of it; she could only hope that he had in fact not sensed anything unusual about it, that he was not merely toying with her and Cosway, playing dumb, psyching them out.

  The longer she stood here idly thinking about it, she knew, the greater the odds he would pick up on something, and, exasperated at her own reluctance, she tried to pluck up the courage to go ahead and punch the damn button.

  Then she heard a gasp beside her, and turned to see Cosway’s eyes rolling in terror back and forth between the black glamour box and her face. That clenched it—her nervousness was bad enough, but Cosway’s terror might easily amount to a blaring klaxon, as far as Du’Thokk was concerned. She pressed the button, and with a tug on Cosway’s sleeve drew him back a pace, so that their actual physical selves would not distort or interfere with their glamoured doppelgangers.

  Cosway cleared his throat—Jennifer could guess that he was doing it to buy time to keep himself from stammering. “Um,” he said. “Are you, um, sure that’s a good idea? If Du’Thokk realizes that we’re tricking him then he may, um, well ... you know, he might, uh....”

  Jennifer cut him off. “Du’Thokk might be the most powerful natural psychic on record, but he doesn’t have any training. Not what we would call training, anyway. There’s no reason to think he’s ever even conceived of a structured enchantment, much less that he’s on the look-out for one.”

  Now that Jennifer had pushed the button, there should be doppelgangers of herself and Cosway occupying the spot where they’d just been standing; if anyone looked over, that was what they would see. (Except for Jennifer and Cosway—the doppelgangers were invisible to them—it was considered bad mojo to see your own doppelganger, and was usually a presage of death, so the mages who’d whipped up the glamour box had included an invisibility spell to protect its users.) The doppelgangers, from a distance, would look just like their originals. They could manage very simple interactions with the Humpers, if absolutely necessary; for instance, if waved to they could wave back. If someone beckoned them they might decide to walk over, although hopefully they’d figure out a way to avoid that—they would look funny up close, and if they were in the presence of Du’Thokk when they disintegrated in half an hour or so, then Jennifer and Cosway would be in a pickle. The dopplegangers probably weren’t smart enough to figure that out, though. They were only a tiny bit ensouled; the glamour borrowed just a pinch of Jennifer’s and Cosway’s essence, not enough for the dopplegangers to be capable of much independent action, but enough that a casual glance by a psychic would hopefully perceive them as real people, not paper shells. Of course if Du’Thokk probed with any determination at all he would immediately see the deception; but he had vowed to Jennifer that, as a boon to her, he would refrain from such prying, and now she just had to hope he’d meant that.

  Jennifer looked back at the pen. Boulton was gripping the wooden fence that imprisoned him. Though he wasn’t thrashing around, it would have been a mistake to call him calm. He glared out at the two of them with murderous hunger. His face was red and cords stood out of his neck; his teeth were bared and drool fell from the corner of his mouth. “We need to figure out something to do with Boulton before the Galaxy sends someone to fight with him,” she said.

  “Maybe we should just sort of let it all happen according to the ritual. Respect their culture, and everything.”

  “Boulton was more than a match for anyone else aboard the ship before Du’Thokk possessed him with battle rage. That’s why Captain Farraday sent him with us.” Because he was being over-protective of me, she silently added. “If we let him face off against one of our fellow crewmembers, he’ll kill him. Or her. We can’t let that happen.”

  Jennifer paused. Cosway licked some sweat off his lips and trembled. She felt like she ought to pay him the respect, as her fellow crewman, of assuming he was brave and cared more for the greater good than he did his own skin. But seeing how he trembled, she decided it couldn’t hurt to point out his own self-interest. “If Du’Thokk’s champion wins this contest, it looks like I’ll be his concubine,” she said. “I don’t much relish the thought of that, but at least he’s promised to let me keep my own mind.” As far as she could tell that only meant she’d get to be aware of what was happening as he enslaved and raped her, but she supposed even that was better than total annihilation. “With you, though, I don’t see any reason to assume he’d be so generous. And the Galaxy won’t be able to risk sending anyone out from behind their spell shield to rescue you.” Actually, that sounded like just the sort of foolish thing Terry would do, if it came down to either that or leaving a man behind. She didn’t mention that to Cosway, though.

  “Okay,” he sighed. “So, what’s your plan, Lieutenant?”

  Here came the part she didn’t expect him to like. “There’s a power word embedded in the psyche of all Security personnel. One meant to defuse mind control, in just such a situation as this.”

  “Well, sure. But.... I mean, I figured there was some reason you weren’t using it, Lieutenant. I just assumed you had your reasons.”

  Only the senior officer on any mission had the right to issue the order to use the embedded power word—it was serious business, since it basically amounted to a low-level mind control. Jennifer supposed she should be impressed by Cosway’s restraint in not having suggested it already, multiple times, seeing as he was so scared of Boulton (rightly so). But she suspected that was mainly because he was scared of the retaliation Du’Thokk might take.

  “I was thinking it over,” she said. “Plus I was waiting for a moment like this, when we might get far enough removed from the Helpers that the glamours would be effective.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, how can you be certain the power word will even work? It’s not Boulton’s mind we’r
e dealing with anyone—it’s Du’Thokk’s.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Most methods of possession retain the host’s personality as a base. The actual possession is only a relatively thin overlay of control.” At least, she hoped that was true. It had been too long since she’d made a close study of this stuff.

  Cosway wasn’t buying it. “Lieutenant, you said it yourself, Du’Thokk is no ordinary shaman. If he notices what we’re doing....”

  “... then he notices.” Jennifer hardened her voice; no more molly-coddling. “This is for the good of the crew, Mr. Cosway. Like I said, Boulton is liable to chew up and spit out anyone the Galaxy sends down. Whereas if we disable him beforehand, hopefully Du’Thokk will not be able to simply pick a new champion, according to the rules of this little game. He’s stuck with the one he’s already got.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Cosway glumly said.

  “I know it sucks. But that’s all we’ve got.”

  Cosway sighed and shrugged. “Sorry, ma’am. I know you’re right.”

  “I need you to say the power word to him.”

  Cosway winced.

  “You’re the linguist,” she went on. “The power word needs to be said exactly right. If I try it once, it doesn’t quite take, and I have to give it a second shot, I may ave already created enough of a disturbance in Boulton’s mind for Du’Thokk to notice that something’s up.”

  Cosway cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course, ma’am,” he said, and started toward the pen. Along the way he paused and turned back to Jennifer. Sheepishly, he said, “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Jennifer softened. She had been almost ready to lose patience with Cosway, to call him on his cowardice that bordered on insubordination. Now she was glad she hadn’t had to blow up before he came around. “It’s all right, Cosway,” she said. “It’s a nerve-wracking time, all around.”

  He sighed. “That’s definitely true,” he agreed with a nod as he turned back toward the pen, and his growling, glaring comrade.

  Jennifer waited, antsy, arms crossed. The truth was, she would feel better if it were her saying the word to Boulton. Not that it was likely to be dangerous—all Cosway had to do was say one word to the guy, clearly if not loudly. It was just that she would have preferred to do it herself, since it was her responsibility. The problem was that the power word was, for obvious reasons, a word which was likely never to be said by accident in the Security man’s presence, and even whose individual syllables were moreover unlikely to be uttered by accident. In short, it was the type of word whose pronunciation was best left to a xenolinguist: the third-person plural form of the verb for “to dive into the thalweg in search of spoiled eggs,” in the imperative mood, the passive voice, and the fourth-highest politeness class, from the Dragosani race’s second-most-widely-spoken tongue.

  Cosway tip-toed over to Blount. Blount regarded him with an evil look, but either because of the pen or because it was not yet time to fight, he remained more or less still and passive.

  Cosway drew as close as he dared. Personally, Jennifer thought it was a little too close.

  She almost cautioned him to take a step back. But he wasn’t within arm’s reach of Blount, and there was that big wooden fence between them. So Jennifer held her peace—no point in making Cosway even more nervous than he already was.

  Cosway leaned his head in closer to Blount and said a word—said what was supposed to be the word. After the syllables left his mouth, it took both him and Jennifer a moment to register what had gone wrong.

  It took about the same amount of time for the utterance to work its effects upon Blount.

  At first, Jennifer didn’t even realize that what was happening to Blount represented a threat to her and Cosway—she thought the spasm that rippled across his face, his sudden reddening and the way his muscles, veins, and tendons all suddenly seemed to swell, she thought all that represented some sort of crisis for Blount: a cardiac arrest, say. And then, even after Blount punched his left arm through the thick board barring him in hard enough to smash it (he wasn’t even left-handed!), grabbed Cosway, jerked him in close, and twisted his head around to snap his neck, even then Jennifer couldn’t quite follow events fast enough to comprehend what was really happening. Not till Cosway’s dead body hit the ground did she get it.

  Moments ago she’d been reflecting unkindly on Cosway’s timidity. Now it was she who stared in horror, frozen, unable to catch her breath.

  “You tried to trick me,” said Du’Thokk behind her. There was no anger in his voice, only a certain smugness. As if he were saying, See how stupid you are? I told you so.

  She whipped around to face him. Yes, there he was—really there, not merely as a voice in her head. Unless he could make his own doppelganger, or cause her to see whatever hallucination he chose. He could do just about anything he wanted, she supposed.

  She didn’t bother asking how he’d crossed the clearing so fast, how he’d made it seem like he’d simply popped into existence behind her. Trying to control her trembling—not to hide her fear, he could see her emotions whenever he liked, but to preserve her dignity—she looked down at the diminutive creature and said, “You changed the word. What came out of his mouth, that wasn’t what he intended to say.”

  “Of course not. Why would I let him say what he wished?”

  “I don’t know. But we had to try. You, on the other hand, did not have to kill him.”

  “I do not ‘have to’ do anything. And for the moment neither do you—as I say, I may choose to allow you to keep your mind, for good. So you did not ‘have to’ try anything, and most especially not anything this feeble. How could you believe it would succeed?”

  It could have worked, she told herself, trying not to look at Cosway’s crumpled corpse, trying not to think too loud in Du’Thokk’s presence. Du’Thokk might not have noticed the word embedded in Blount’s mind, and might not have recognized it for what it was even if he had. She had really thought the glamour would be enough to cloak herself and Cosway.

  He tilted his head at her curiously. “Truly? You thought so?” So much for thinking quietly. Apparently Du’Thokk’s pledge to allow her to hang onto her mental volition did not extend to respecting her privacy.

  He was still studying her. His expression was puzzled, but not exasperated; more as if the mystery enticed him. “You really did think I wouldn’t notice,” he repeated, almost marveling. “How strange you are. Clearly you have some great power in you, that would make you quite formidable, I think. And yet you are surprised by the smallest display of my own.”

  Jennifer kept her mouth shut, as she mulled over his words. It was weird that Du’Thokk could plainly peek into her brain whenever he wanted to, could overhear her thoughts and see the unfamiliar contours of her werewolfism, and yet still be unable to solve the rather lightweight mysteries she posed. He doesn’t want to solve them, she realized. That would be cheating, he felt. He wanted the thrill of figuring things out, without the aid of his incredible advantages.

  But if that were the case, why poke around in her head at all? Why not set a mental wall between himself and her, if keeping himself honest was necessary for the thrill of the thing?... It was a crazy idea, but Jennifer wondered if he even noticed he was getting impressions from her mind. Maybe he was so used to exercising such overwhelming control that the mental leakage he picked up from her failed to even register as anything worth remarking upon.

  The idea was bizarre and terrifying. But she filed it away, just in case it proved true and later proved of use.

  For right now, she was distracted by the smile that suddenly broke upon Du’Thokk’s face. It did not strike her as an especially friendly one.

  “Ah,” he said. “Your friends are on their way now.”

  She’d had her communicator set to silent, to avoid the risk of alerting anyone to their true position, should it beep while she and Cosway were hiding behind their glamours. Checking it now, she saw that the Galaxy was indeed sending a shuttle do
wn to the village.

  “For the duel,” said Du’Thokk.

  “I suppose so.” Only after she’d answered did Jennifer realize Du’Thokk had spoken as if she’d read the message to him aloud.

  The shaman’s smiled curled into something more evil still. “And they’re doing exactly as I knew they would,” he said. “Excellent.”

  Eight

  An hour before that shuttle had begun its descent to Lumley, Ensign Fiquet had tagged along to the tech mage lab; the captain had told “everyone” to come along, after all.

  She didn’t want to risk attracting attention and being sent back to Sickbay—it wasn’t like her lowly ensign’s input was liable to be called for, and the senior officers might decide she was just in the way. Still, she couldn’t shake the visions of cruelty Dobbler claimed to have “overheard,” and since he too was trailing in the back of the caravan, she sidled up to him and in a soft voice asked, “Are you sure those horrible things you saw were real?”

  “Yep,” he answered in a clipped tone, keeping his eyes forward.

  “But if he wanted a starship, why didn’t he just take that one from way back when? Why force the crew to torture each other to death?”

  “I don’t think he truly realized what he had till he’d already destroyed it. When he pulled the crew down from the sky, they were just so alien and exotic, he couldn’t help playing with them, and he only knew one way to play. It was only after they were already used up and ruined that he started really analyzing all the memories he’d plundered and realized all the much more interesting things he could have done with them. Once they were dead he couldn’t pilot their ship himself, because during the fun he hadn’t bothered to extract all the boring minutae of how to operate the thing.” Dobbler paused, casting back through the memories he’d managed to lift from Du’Thokk, then shrugged. “I guess he had his Helpers dismantle the ship and hide all the pieces, in case any more aliens ever showed up, the way we did. I’m not sure—I don’t guess I really got to that bit.”