by Rachel Bach
My breath caught. Anti-tank strategic missiles. Now those we could use. But before I could get close enough to ask what the plan was, the captain gave what looked like a final order and Rupert turned and ran, hefting the huge cases like they were full of straw as he swept down the spiral stair to the Fool’s lower level.
“Please tell me that’s your trump card,” I said, running up to the captain.
“Afraid I’m all out of those. We’re playing this by ear now.” He shot me a grim look and pulled out his com. When he spoke again, his voice sounded over the ship’s system and in my helmet. “All hands to the cargo bay. Bring no arms. Prepare for surrender.”
Excitement turned to horror as I watched the captain close his com and stick it back in his pocket. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack,” Caldswell replied, walking into the lounge.
“I am not surrendering.”
Caldswell didn’t even dignify that with a look. “You’ll do as I say. Use your head, Morris. We’re caught tight. If we fight, we’ll just end up caught and dead. So we’re going to make the most of a bad situation. I need you to follow my orders exactly with no back talk, agreed?”
I didn’t, but I also knew I couldn’t take an entire xith’cal tribe by myself. So, grudgingly, I took my hands off my guns and followed the captain into the lounge.
By this point, Basil and Nova were right behind us. Hyrek was already there, waiting by the kitchen. Our xith’cal looked almost gray with fear under the orange emergency lights, but like everyone else, he was composed as he greeted the captain with a respectful nod. Rupert was nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected. I just hoped he was as good with those tank killers as he was at faking being a Royal Knight.
Once we were all together, Caldswell told the rest of the crew what he’d just told me. To my surprise, no one argued, not even Basil. Every single one of them was looking at the captain with so much trust it made me feel a little ill, but then I suppose a bit of blind faith was a career necessity when you were one of Brian Caldswell’s permanent crew.
I hung back as Caldswell led his people down the lounge stairs to the cargo bay. This was partially because being on the ship again put me back in security officer mode, which meant it was my job to bring up the rear, but mostly I was mesmerized by what was going on outside the lounge windows. The enormous xith’cal battle cruiser that had shot out our hyperdrive coil wasn’t reeling us in as I’d first thought. It was towing us, pulling the junked Fool like so much space trash toward the enormous shadow of the tribe ship.
When I’d seen the dead tribe ship floating in the asteroids in the Recant, I’d thought it was the biggest ship I would ever see. Now I realized what Hyrek had meant when he’d said Stoneclaw was a small tribe. The tribe ship in front of me was so huge I couldn’t see the light of Montblanc’s sun anymore. Reaper’s ship was like a great black moon pricked with millions of tiny yellow-lit windows, and even though I knew the battleship must be towing us very quickly, compared to the huge curve of the hull before us, we didn’t seem to be moving at all.
“Morris!”
The captain’s sharp call made me wince, and I tore myself away from the window to join the rest of the crew in the cargo bay.
Mabel was already down there. Considering her real identity, I’d expected her to be with Rupert, but she was just standing with the rest of the crew. She wasn’t even armed. Actually, the only thing she was carrying was a small cat crate.
“You’re bringing your cat?” I blurted out.
“Of course I’m bringing her,” Mabel said, shooting me a scathing look. “I’m not going to abandon her here. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
I couldn’t answer that in present company, so I kept my mouth shut and got back to business. Since Mabel had chosen feline companionship over her gun, that left Caldswell and me as the only armed combatants. I had my usual load out, but all Caldswell had was his pearl-handled disrupter pistol, the one with two shots. That didn’t seem very useful considering I was pretty sure there were going to be a lot more than two xith’cal, but Caldswell didn’t look worried. He just stood in front of his crew, holding his ground while I checked and double-checked my suit and weapons.
After what felt like forever, I heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening. A huge one. With the screens out and no window in the cargo bay, I could only guess we’d been towed into a dock on the tribe ship itself. A minute later, my guess was proven correct when the artificial gravity grabbed us. With her thrusters dead and no one on the bridge, the Fool dropped like a stone, knocking everyone except myself and the symbionts to the ground as the ship crashed onto the floor. We were still being towed, though, and we scraped along the metal for several seconds before jerking to a stop.
While the rest of the crew picked themselves up, Caldswell motioned me over. I moved to stand beside him, but he motioned me closer still. Scowling, I leaned right into his face. “What?”
“Remove your helmet,” the captain whispered.
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“If I tell you, it won’t look real,” he said. “Just do it. You can put it on again as soon as this is done.”
The idea of facing a tribe ship with no cameras and nothing to protect my head made me panicky, but as I opened my mouth to tell the captain no, I realized I could hear xith’cal gathering on the other side of the cargo bay door. Lots of xith’cal. Way more than I could ever shoot before they took me down. I glanced back at Caldswell, but he was just standing there, looking at me with growing impatience.
With a long sigh, I reached up and popped my helmet. I didn’t remove it completely, just hinged it back so it was hanging behind me, but that was still enough to make me feel like an exposed moron. I didn’t know any other word to describe a merc who removed her helmet seconds before an attack. I did it, though, because if my months on Caldswell’s Fool had taught me anything, it was that the captain was a sneaky bastard. There was no way we were gunning down an entire tribe ship anyway, so I had nothing to lose by putting myself in Caldswell’s hands. Except my head, of course.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I muttered.
“Just hold still and keep your hands off your guns,” Caldswell said quietly, nodding for Mabel to open the cargo bay door. “And whatever you do, don’t say a word.”
That was not reassuring final advice, but it was too late now. Mabel had already unhooked the counterweight, starting the cargo bay’s unpowered door rolling up toward the ceiling. As the metal barrier rose, Caldswell put his hands out in front of him, away from his gun. I kept mine clear as well, though it nearly killed me once I saw what was on the other side.
A sea of xith’cal was waiting for us. I’d never seen so many lizards in one place before, not even on the ghost ship. There had to be thousands of them packed into the cavernous landing bay, swarming the warship that had dragged us in like ants on a carcass.
They’d swarmed us, too. There were xith’cal on our ramp, xith’cal on top of the Fool’s flat roof, xith’cal putting out the electrical fires that had sprung up on our busted hyperdrive coil now that there was oxygen. There were so many xith’cal they started swimming together in my vision, but not before I’d noted that every single one was armed to the teeth and pointing their weapons at us.
At the front of the pack, though, one xith’cal was different. I now recognized the small bright-green lizard as a female, and though she was dwarfed by the males around her, she was clearly in charge. Like the Highest Guide back on the asteroid, she had a human slave on a chain. It was a middle-aged woman this time, probably another interpreter, but she didn’t get a chance to interpret anything. The Fool’s ramp was barely half down before the female xith’cal sniffed deep and jumped back with a metallic shriek.
Something nudged me from behind, and both Caldswell and I looked to see Hyrek’s handset held out between us.
She is screaming that you are the plague, it read.
>
Caldswell nodded and looked at me. “Ready?”
I frowned. “Ready for wha—”
Before I could finish, Caldswell’s arm was around my throat and his gun was pressed against my temple.
I jumped on instinct, but Caldswell’s arm clamped down tighter, holding me still. “Easy, Morris,” he whispered. “Just roll with it.”
I do not roll with guns pointed at my head unless I’m the one holding the trigger, but as much as I hated it, Caldswell’s ploy seemed to be working. Down in the crowd, the female’s shriek cut off like it had been chopped with a knife. In its place, the air filled with the click of claws on triggers as the whole room prepared to fire, and I gave myself up for dead. But before a single shot could go off, the female held up her hand and barked a command. Beside her, the human slave stepped forward.
“Do not shoot, Brian Caldswell, sworn prey of Reaper,” the woman said, her voice shaking in terror. “Step away from the plague bearer.”
“Hyrek,” Caldswell said quietly.
Our lizard nodded and stepped forward, standing beside his captain much as the human slave stood by her xith’cal master. When he was in place, Caldswell lifted his chin. “Flesh of Reaper,” he said, his captain’s voice filling the room. “I have brought the woman as demanded. Call off the siege of Montblanc or I will kill her right here.”
I nearly choked. Logically, I knew this had to be a bluff, but the captain didn’t sound like he was bluffing. He sounded deadly serious, emphasis on the deadly.
Hyrek lifted his own snout and started to speak. I hadn’t actually heard our xith’cal speak much, and the effect was surprising. His voice was deeper than the female’s but clearly not male. It was its own thing, and the xith’cal reacted, hissing and snarling. Even the female bared her small fangs when she replied, and though her words sounded like spent bullet casings going through a shredder, there was no mistaking the scorn in them.
“What insult is this?” the slave woman said, completely failing to replicate the haughty disdain of her mistress’s voice. “You bring a child to lay down terms to the great Reaper?”
Hyrek looked at the captain, but Caldswell only narrowed his eyes and tapped his finger on the trigger. The female xith’cal winced at the motion, and the huge male beside her leaned down to hiss something in her ear. The female shook her head and began speaking again.
“Your terms are accepted, sworn prey,” the human slave woman translated. “We shall allow the weak planet to live. Now, give us Stoneclaw’s weapon.”
“I’m not done yet,” Caldswell said, wedging the gun harder against my temple. “I also want a guarantee of safe passage for my crew and my ship.”
This time, the female didn’t even wait for Hyrek to translate before giving her answer with a squeal so sharp it made my ears ring.
“You are sworn prey,” her slave said haughtily. “There can be no escape for you. The great Reaper will eat your flesh this day in glory.”
“I never said me,” Caldswell replied. “I said my ship and my crew.”
As he spoke, the hard pressure of the pistol’s muzzle vanished from my head. I blinked in surprise and turned just in time to see Caldswell step back and press the gun against his own temple.
“Sworn prey must be defeated in combat,” he said, grinning down at the xith’cal as he tightened his finger on the trigger. “I already have your pledge to leave Montblanc alone in exchange for Deviana Morris, but if you refuse to swear safe passage for my people and my ship, I’ll end this farce right here, and Reaper’s disgrace will go unanswered forever. Are you willing to risk that, Highest Guide?”
The female gave Caldswell a scathing look, and then she turned to the male beside her. They talked for a long while. The male was clearly enraged, but the female just kept shaking her head. Eventually, they seemed to come to an agreement, and the female spoke to her slave, who repeated the words to us.
“We will swear safe passage for your crew and ship,” the woman said. “But only after your death. You have been sworn prey for many years, Brian Caldswell, and great Reaper whose flesh we are demands your blood.”
“I die and they go free without harassment,” Caldswell verified. “This is your pledge?”
The female xith’cal nodded, and Caldswell lowered his gun. “Done.”
I stared at the captain in amazement as he holstered his pistol.
“What?” he whispered. “I got the idea from you. And stop gaping, Morris. You’ll give people the wrong impression.”
“Didn’t know it was wrong,” I whispered back, folding my arms over my chest. “Didn’t think you were the hero type, offering to die for your crew.”
Caldswell grinned. “Don’t give me too much credit. I knew I was dead the moment that towline hit, but if I couldn’t double sell a sure thing to guarantee the safety of my crew, what kind of trader captain would I be?”
I couldn’t even begin to answer that. Behind us, Nova was tearing up. Basil looked stricken, Mabel looked impressed, and Hyrek just looked overwhelmed. I was sure he would have said something, but Caldswell silenced everyone with a glare before turning back to me. “Better put your helmet back on.”
My eyes widened, and I snapped my helmet into place just in time to see the xith’cal coming up the ramp through my side camera. But though they had us grossly outnumbered, the xith’cal stopped at the edge of the cargo bay, looking at me like they were afraid to come any closer. For a moment, I almost took that as a compliment to my reputation as a badass lizard killer before I remembered my new name among the xith’cal, “plague bearer.” Too bad I couldn’t just throw the stuff at them and run.
Our mini standoff lasted almost a full minute before the female made her way up the ramp. She must have left her human slave behind, because when she appeared, all she had in her hands was a thing that looked like a large white ball. She said something and pointed at me, then at the corner of the cargo bay. Such a simple command didn’t require translation, but I still waited for Hyrek to tell me to move before I obeyed.
I fully expected her to order me to strip next, because what kind of idiot keeps a Paradoxian prisoner in her armor? But the female didn’t say anything else. She just waited until I was in the corner, and then she lobbed the white ball at my face.
Despite the thousands of guns pointed at me, I very nearly shot the thing down on instinct. I caught myself at the last second, forcing my hands off Sasha as the white ball hit me in the chest. The moment it struck, it expanded, flowing over me until I was standing in the middle of what looked like a white gum bubble. Once it reached its full size, the bubble hardened instantly, much like Mabel’s patches. Unlike a patch, though, this stuff wasn’t brittle. It didn’t crack when I pushed it, or even when I punched it. I would have tried shooting, but that didn’t seem like a smart idea when the female was walking toward me with ten warriors.
She reached up to touch the bubble, tapping the white surface with her claws as she said something in her twisting-metal voice. Behind her, I could see Hyrek typing, and then a message appeared at the bottom of my camera feed.
She says it’s completely shatterproof and airtight, Hyrek’s message read. She also hopes you have an air supply that can last you until you reach the lab.
My eyes went wide as I sealed my suit. The female xith’cal laughed at the sound of my air lock and began commanding the warriors to pick up my makeshift prison. Outside, I saw Caldswell surrender his pistol before being hauled off by two very large xith’cal. The rest of the crew went without protest, including Mabel, and though they were clearly terrified, especially Basil, who was going on about how he was an old bird and couldn’t be very tasty, the xith’cal didn’t seem to be treating them roughly.
As the crew was escorted out, I felt a deep rumble under my feet. It was so huge, it took me a few seconds to realize that the tiny earthquake was actually the roar of the tribe ship’s thrusters. We were leaving Montblanc. The xith’cal were keeping their word, apparently.
/> Once Caldswell and the crew had been led away, the warriors lifted my bubble and started down the ramp. I cannot begin to describe how bizarre it was to have xith’cal warriors bearing me on their shoulders like a noble in an old-fashioned palanquin. If they hadn’t been carrying me to near-certain doom, I probably would have enjoyed it.
The crew had been marched out ahead of me, and by the time the slow-moving warriors carrying my bubble made it down the Fool’s ramp, Caldswell and the rest were gone. I kept my eyes open anyway, keeping all my cameras busy marking doors and vents, anything that might be useful later for an escape. I also kept watch for Rupert, but I didn’t see so much as a flash of black. I refused to let it bother me, though. Rupert hadn’t been taken with the crew, which meant he was undoubtedly already working on whatever plan he and the captain had made. He’d find me for sure, and together we’d bust this place wide open, get the crew, and get the hell out.
I was taking comfort in that thought when the jump flash washed over me.
In the movies, the inside of a xith’cal tribe ship was always a shadowy, terrible place filled with human skeletons. As it turned out, the truth wasn’t too far off. There were no bones, but it was uncomfortably dark, and the hallways went on forever. Since I wasn’t walking, my suit was having trouble drawing a map as the xith’cal warriors carrying my bubble turned again and again, and by the time we reached our destination, a large, well-lit room lined with what appeared to be medical sterile storage, I was utterly lost.
Wherever this place was, it was clearly a female room. The ceiling was so low the males carrying me had to duck to fit. There were dozens of females standing clustered around clean metal tables with projected diagrams hovering over them like ghosts. They hissed when the warriors entered. The warriors hissed back, causing the female who’d met us in the dock, the Highest Guide, to roar. Everyone shut up after that, and the males kept their heads down as they carried my bubble to an air lock at the far side of the room.
