Hunt for the Pyxis

by Zoë Ferraris

  They were surprised to discover that the vostok zone was empty. There was no sign of the navy at all, and the vostok bridge was rapidly approaching. Fifty yards ahead of them, the massive bridge stood high and wide. It was easily big enough for six Argh-sized ships to pass through side by side.

  “Why is there no navy?” Laika asked.

  “They must be on the planet,” Santher said. “Probably because the Queen is here.” He steered the Markab toward the bridge and called for everyone to vostok up. Emma ate hers and braced herself for another plunge into darkness.

  “Cannons on my count!” Santher cried.

  Emma and Laika stood behind the cannons, which were aimed at the wide blue horizon ahead.

  “Three…two…one!”

  Emma pulled the trigger cord. The cannons gave a boom and a rearward lurch, shooting their vostok cargo into the clear blue sky. With a bright explosion, the shots seemed to hit an invisible barrier and explode into a million glittering particles. Emma held her rope as the ship lurched forward into the green light, falling helplessly for a terrifying minute through the strange, wild void. This transition was more of a surprising whoomph that hit her like a blast of fresh air. Then, with a hearty splash, they found themselves sailing on a dark-blue sea, their vostok skins gone, their hearts still aflutter. The great harbor of Fairfoot was gleaming before them.

  And directly ahead stood a fleet of navy ships.

  “Good grace!” Laika jerked. “That’s why there were no guards at the vostok zone—they’re all down here. There must be three hundred of them!”

  Herbie had gone utterly pale.

  Santher was studying the ships. “They’re not going to attack,” he said quickly. “They don’t even notice us. Look.” He was right. None of the ships seemed to be responding to their presence. In fact, they looked empty. “Just remember: nobody knows who we are. And conveniently”—he grinned at them—“we belong to the Draco system, one of the Queen’s favorites.”

  Ahead, twenty Virgo men-of-war were anchored side by side, their colors gleaming in the bright morning sun. The Markab sailed forward with the delicacy of a man tiptoeing through a nest of sleeping scorpions. Cast in momentary shadow, Emma gazed up to see a Virgo bowsprit looming overhead, a sinister look on her peasant face.

  Beyond the first row of ships, they saw another line.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Laika whispered, her face frozen in shock. She turned to Santher. “Don’t you think we should go back?”

  “I thought you wanted to help find Halifax,” he said.

  “Shhhhh!” Laika hissed. “Don’t say her name so loudly.”

  “There are hardly any Pegasus ships,” Herbie said.

  “How can you tell?” Emma asked.

  “None of them have wings. These are all navy ships…. But I think Laika’s right. We should hide or something.”

  “Look!” Santher pointed at a cluster of ships ahead of them. Three Leo craft were plowing their slow way through the harbor. They were large galleons like the Argh.

  “What, those Leo ships?” Laika asked. “They’re not going to recognize us.”

  “No, look between them!”

  And there, sitting happily on the waves, was a very elegant, exquisitely white ship, looking all the more lovely and delicate surrounded by its powerful Leo guard. The first impression Emma had was of a woman gliding across a ballroom in the arms of the wind. The ship was sleek and narrow, delicately constructed with three slender masts holding tricornered sails and two side masts that hung above the water like wings. The sails were silky and iridescent, almost like a chiffon dress. The sound they made was not the heavy flap-flap of the Markab’s rigging, but a thin whip-whip.

  “That’s an Andromeda ship,” Laika said nervously. “Oh, good grace…is that…?”

  “Yup.” Santher was gaping at it. “With the Leo guard…”

  “I can’t make out the name,” Laika put in. “But if it’s the Chained Lady…”

  Santher turned to Emma and Herbie. “That’s Queen Virgo’s ship.”

  They were aghast.

  “Shouldn’t we go—I don’t know—in the other direction?” Herbie squeaked.

  Santher steered them gently away.

  “Why would the Queen be on an Andromeda ship?” Emma asked.

  “She kept it as a war prize when she defeated Cassiopeia,” Santher said. “That’s Princess Andromeda’s mother.”

  “Santher,” Laika whispered, “we ought to hide now.”

  But Santher’s eyes had taken on a quality of devilish determination, and he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I think this means we’ll find exactly what we need.”

  Fairfoot’s harbor was built in a natural inlet. Two outstretched arms of land embraced each new arrival, and ships from every system were lined up on its shoulders, elbows, and wrists.

  Santher steered them straight into the center of the harbor. With ships packed on every pier, there was little room to dock, but the Markab was small. Santher found an unobtrusive place beside a longboat from Ursa, and the four of them quickly disembarked, tying the yacht to a post.

  Emma followed the others down the pier, where they encountered a group of Ursa sailors. They were a mixed crowd of bears and men, the lot of them smelling like pipe smoke and the oily stench of fur. The bears stood upright and were remarkably tall. The men were tall as well, and dressed in fur coats that hung down to their boots. Emma felt tiny among them—she barely reached their waists. She moved delicately beside Herbie, afraid of getting trampled.

  One of the men had great, hairy hands and a thicket of beard that sprang sideways from his ears.

  “Ursell,” he called to a friend of his, “think the Queen’ll want some pelts?” He was holding an armful of wolf skins, and when he raised them in the air, Emma ducked. A swipe from a single one of the skins could have knocked her into the harbor.

  “Only pelting she’ll get will be a smack across the face,” Ursell grumbled. The other men laughed. “Don’t see what we’re doing here anyway.”

  “We don’t have a choice, do we?” the first man said. “You see what she did to Lynx—you want her doing that to Ursa?”

  Laika stopped abruptly and looked up at the man. “Do you know any pirates?” she asked.

  The man froze and looked down at her. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Stiffly, he moved past her and hurried his men forward, glancing back at her as if she were dangerous.

  Laika turned to Emma and Herbie. “See how afraid everyone is to talk about pirates?”

  Emma was surprised. “Maybe it’s because there’s so much navy here,” she said.

  “But they’re always like that,” Laika replied.

  “It’s just because they think you’re crazy,” Santher said. “Come on.”

  They had reached the center of the wharf. The Chained Lady docked on a long, lone pier that extended out into the middle of the harbor. Red carpets had been laid out for her, leading straight ahead to a grand building that dominated the shoreline. It was a veritable pantheon with a dome roof, a stone facade, and imposing marble columns. Ministers from all over the galaxy had lined up along the carpet to greet the Queen. Emma and her friends crept to the front edge of the crowd and watched as the Queen’s ship laid down its gangplank.

  Silence fell as a large shadow passed over the crowd. Everyone looked up to see a flock of flying Pegasus horses heading for the carpet, their great wings outstretched. Two by two, they landed on the carpet and ran forward, clearing the way for those behind. On their backs, smartly dressed soldiers sat upright, sternly ignoring the applause that broke out from the crowd.

  When all the Pegasus horses had landed, sailors from the Queen’s ship began marching down its gangplank.

  “Draconi sailors,” Laika whispered to Emma and Herbie. The Draconi guards moved in a tight formation, their short, stocky bodies draped in coarse fabrics, their arms and faces browned by the sun. “They look like Rid
ers.”

  “They ride dragons?” Herbie asked.

  “Normally, yes. But those ones were sent to protect the Queen. She has her own dragons. But I don’t see them. Sometimes they fly alone.”

  A trumpet blared, and everyone fell silent. The Queen appeared at the top of the gangplank, flanked by her guards. Regally, she walked down the plank. The crowd fell in a sweeping wave as every creature knelt before her. Emma bowed halfheartedly. She wanted to get a better look.

  Queen Virgo was a surprisingly small figure, but her clothing more than made up for her size. She wore a long royal-blue dress that seemed to spread out for miles behind her. Her great tier of blond hair was drawn up in waves, and a crown of objects was placed artfully around it. They looked like bright-blue ears of wheat. A gigantic diamond hung around her neck.

  Once the Queen had passed and the crowd had risen again, Emma heard a clanking. Straining to see, she caught sight of a dirty young woman in white rags. Her legs and wrists were bound in heavy chains, and she was being dragged, stumbling, behind the Queen.

  “That’s the princess of Andromeda,” Laika said, her big brown eyes wide with sympathy. “It’s how she’s being punished for rebelling against the Queen.”

  They got a look at Princess Andromeda’s face as she passed. She might have been lovely once, but now her cheeks were sunburned, her lips were cracked and bleeding, and her eyes were swollen. She moaned.

  “Just one drop of water, please!” she begged. One of the guards turned, raising a whip in his hand. She cowered. The guard yanked her chains and dragged her, stumbling, into the hall.

  Santher gave a low whistle, and they turned to see him ten feet away, slipping into a crowd of young servants from one of the warrior systems. It so happened that the warrior’s beige uniforms matched the ones that the four of them were wearing. As the ministers began moving into the great hall, Emma and her friends followed, blending in seamlessly with the servants.

  The Queen of Virgo, whose real name was Elemin Marchpane, was sitting on a high silver throne. She exuded an air of cold regality. Draconi guards stood to the side along with her personal dragons—a nervous one in front and a vicious one in back who liked to bite off hands but never swallowed them. The front one was her favorite dragon, Simmah. He paced to and fro like a vigilant guard, even if the Queen herself knew better—he was nervous with so many people in the room, anxious to get away from the crowd and fly off on his own. To the royal soldiers, Simmah looked like the fiercest guard in the room. They admired him, stepping back only when he belched a wisp of flame, hoping not to scorch their bright-red uniforms or shiny white tuskets, each festooned with an ear of wheat.

  Around the Queen, spreading out like a river delta, were the many guests she had invited to the Royal Hall. Every system that paid fealty had turned out for the event. It brought her pleasure to notice that, despite the great mixing of every sort of creature, the representatives from various systems tended to congregate in sensible groups. She saw the warriors from Ras Algethi, tall, meaty men in fur capes and jagged-tooth crowns. She saw the ministers from Regulus on Leo, their lions circling them watchfully, and nearby the heavy-framed shipbuilders from Canopus on Argo mingled comfortably. The head of the Hercules delegation was wearing a dead brown bear on his back, and when the great bears from Ursa noticed the man’s garb, there was a roar and a scuffle, and a group of Draconi guards intervened, dispatching the bears to the other side of the hall.

  Beyond that group, she caught sight of the bright-purple cloaks of the judiciaries from Libra, and beside them, three magnificent sprays of feathers announced the triumvir from Pavo. There were scientists, undoubtedly from Gemini, as well as the doctors from Ophiuchus, with their colorful snakes coiling around their bare arms. And there too were the royal hares of Lepus, who, although short in this crowd, stood out because of their great jeweled ears, and their minister, a red rabbit whose name she always forgot. A few more merchants from Argo and an artisan or two from Sculptor stood at the edge of the crowd.

  The central part of the room was given over to the water systems: people from Cetus, Pisces, Aquarius, and Delphinus. Their clothing was colored in bright indigos and jades, some shimmering with phosphorescence. The only things to tell them apart were the unique patterns of their constellation sewn onto their vests, sleeves, and hats. That, and the Cetans were taller than the others, thicker, and less inclined to mingle.

  And finally, to her right the clan systems had gathered: the tall warriors from Corvus, their birds jessed and perched proudly on their shoulders; King Razliman’s son, Lusit, and his Draconi ministers, who had brought their own contingent of dragons; and the queen of Antares and her carapaced Scorpio, who trolled through the crowd like a lost dog. There was a minister from Pegasus with a white stallion at his side. (He was not a handsome man, she noted, and she wondered again why the women from Pegasus were so beautiful when their men were so boorish.) In any event, from this side of the room came the greatest noise, a veritable swell. It was the rising cacophony of human voices and animals braying, snorting, and squawking, their energy doubling upon itself to create an even greater excitement. Birds from Cygnus were shrieking, birds from Tucana were yawking, and birds from Columba were cooing. The rams of Aries were bleating, the crabs of Cancer tick-tick-ticking on the colored tiles. She noted with consternation that the bears from Ursa didn’t mix with this crowd either; they kept their distance, as if expecting an ambush.

  She contemplated the systems that had not arrived for the event. Eridanus. Monkey and Lynx. Aquila, Canis Major—and Andromeda, of course. And there was no one from Hydra. She hadn’t expected their presence, but their absence was loud, for even if they were not on good terms with Virgo, the crowd that gathered had come to discuss an issue of importance to everyone, in every system. No system was isolated; none could pretend not to be affected. No, it was time to put all disputes aside.

  The Queen, summoning her strongest presence of mind, rose from her throne and waited until the last of the chatter had died down, until every last fox from Vulpecula had finally stopped its yipping and yapping and sat obediently at its master’s feet. Cats, she thought, we are only missing small cats. Once she had the attention of every last soul, she sat back in her throne and exchanged greetings with the crowd before realizing quite suddenly that members of the Chamaeleon delegation were missing. She believed they too had failed to arrive until after a general search, a bear from Ursa spotted them at the back of the room, blending nicely with the tapestries.

  When she had finally dispensed with the formal nonsense, she turned to the most pressing topic, her voice rising darkly over the room.

  “As you all know,” she intoned, “we are gathered here for one purpose today, and that is to discuss the depletion of our galaxy’s most valuable resource—our memory water.”

  There was a cold, stifled applause and murmur of consent. She went on: “As you also know, we are down to our last strategic reserves. Without this water, our galaxy will have no medical cures, no energy systems, no hubbles or scuppers, and, crucially, no mesmers, and thus a failing communication system all across the galaxy. Our systems are becoming desperate, paying ever more dearly for a diminishing supply. Very soon, we will have no more memory water left.”

  The Queen paused to take in her crowd. They were listening attentively. Some looked desperate, others skeptical. The only movement was Simmah’s tail, swishing nervously at her feet.

  “Many of you have already begged my generosity in sharing more than I am able to. I have heard a great number of pleas, and I have had to reject them all. Nothing so far has been able to abate the great disaster we all fear is looming ahead of us.”

  Another murmur from the crowd, and some nervous squawking of wildlife.

  “As you all remember, the dread pirate and traitor Cascabel was responsible for ruining the memory seas of Eridanus—” At this there was a great hissing of contempt from the back of the room. “He stole the water from an honest
system and smuggled it into the great portals of the Shroud, leaving behind a single way to open those doorways. And that is the Pyxis.”

  She let this word hang in the air while she studied each of her guests with a stern gaze.

  “We have been unable to open those doorways and access the resources we so desperately need, for the Pyxis has been lost to us.” A quiet thrill was stirring the crowd. “But just two weeks ago, a Pyxis transmission signaled throughout the galaxy for the first time in over twelve years. And we have determined that the signal was authentic.”

  A triumphant roar rose up from the crowd, followed by waves of raucous cheering.

  “For many years,” she said in a darker voice, “we have strained to preserve our resources. For many years, we have worried desperately about our futures. But it is only memory water that will save the galaxy. And now, finally, a solution is within reach. Therefore, I would call on each of you here to commit a part of your fleets to the hunt for the Pyxis, and to guarantee its safe return to my palace on Spica.”

  More applause broke out, followed by cheering.

  The Queen raised her hand, and the room fell silent again. “The Pyxis is a dangerous, mysterious object. Very few understand how to operate it successfully. However, we are fortunate to have the guidance of the finest philosophers, the counsel of the finest judges”—she motioned to Libra—“and the strength of the greatest armies in the galaxy.” Here, with a royal sweep of the arm, she included the warriors from every system, to general applause. “We feel, with all these strengths on our side, that Virgo’s actions are the best possible decisions to be made for the betterment and safety of all your systems, as well as ours.”

  This was greeted by more thunderous clapping.

  The Queen stepped aside and the ministers from Pegasus began making announcements. She remained by her throne, listening. Whispers became clear, directed by the memory water in her blood. And what she heard translated from mouth to ear, from one species to another all across the great hall, was that the notorious pirate and former Virgo princess Halifax Brightstoke had been captured and taken into the Queen’s custody. (Think of it! After all this time! How did she survive? Where was she hiding?) Like the expansion of the galaxy itself, rumors began to drift outward, pulling every idea farther and farther apart. Rumors that Halifax had escaped her execution with Cascabel’s help. Rumors that she had died, and that someone else was posing as Halifax. Rumors that the Pyxis had given her the power to stay alive. There were rumors that the old rumor was true—that good pirates never die—which sparked a minor series of debates: What was a good pirate? Weren’t pirates by definition very bad? The scoundrels of the Strands? Thieves and whatnot? The rumors continued: rumors that Halifax had a baby boy. A baby girl. A baby monkey. Rumors that she’d been living on Draco. On Eridanus, imprisoned in the dark, occult waters. There was no one to dispel the many myths and lies, and so they expanded outward, unfettered by the gravity of truth.