But Mintek wondered, what if all had fought to live as well as take they ship? They could send it into a sun, later, after they left it. Was freedom and life ever part of the spell?
Some who sought annihilation of the hellship and themselves now felt those goals quench in unexpected time and opportunity. Their leadership fell into discord. Their spells weakened. They were replaced. Nevertheless, a single, new goal went unforged. But a fire spread among many was a belief that possible freedom and life meant a lessened desire for personal death.
The Ignitaurs once thought the future was their creation. Now Mintek stood far from the bilge prison. He breathed foul but free air. His weapon, cleverly disguised as discarded tailing, curled the hellship’s own fire into a flamethrower that seared demons. Perhaps a future forged by Ignitaurs was still possible. But first, he must face the demons.
The message of where and when to appear dropped before a patrol. It came attached to a defused bomb. It was also close to the bilge where many Ignitaurs had regathered. The demon bomb sent two, clear messages. It made sense to attend. Mintek was a respected leader, and strong and fierce warrior. The latter aspect surprised even him. Now he hoped for strength as a negotiator.
Mintek flicked his short, conic ears against the base of his massive black horns sloping upward along the sides of his bull-like head sheathed in singed red, leathery skin. His inward curving horns glinted like obsidian and slashed the mephitic air when he moved. Mintek had fewer prongs jutting from his horns than older Ignitaurs who used them as personal racks for small tools. Both sexes grew horns, and were largely indistinguishable to alien eyes. Mintek’s eyes also appeared as polished obsidian. They looked down a blunt, bull-like snout with occasionally flaring nostrils.
As longtime spacefarers, their once strong legs receded when unused in microgravity. Their powerful arms worked well to move through ship passageways. Adapting to the hellship’s false gravity, Ignitaurs built steel prosthetics from joined helixes attached to their vestigial legs. The metal limbs inverted to grant the lost power of bovine legs. Mintek was a recast. He was born with fully functioning legs, but wore formed helixes over them for solidarity and acceptance.
What would demons accept? Mintek wondered. He flared his nostrils and drew in a long pull of mephitic air.
Uruk closed in on Mintek’s location. He flew through the passageway, solo. Yet the Field Master was far from alone. His united demons were ready to strike any location from within and from formations soaring outside the ship. This meeting had separated a key leader from the enemy. Strategic control was now his. The only question was if the Ignitaurs were willing to parlay, aid his horde and live, or all die in one last and certainly brief battle.
Uruk had previously conversed with an Ignitaur leader he called Not. It was a shortened version of Not Uruk, as it neglected to give a title or rank. Not, by any name, was annoying. Uruk found the bovine alien’s mind within the ship’s systems after attempting to access and control the weapons system. The means of such an interface was as direct as most demon actions. Uruk found a proper cable and bit it.
Uruk’s infernal brain then linked to the epi-physical network. There he found Not, and soon wished he could bite the alien. Their combat was a philosophical debate between a demon commander and a mystic bull who sought release from imprisonment by destroying itself and the ship. To Uruk, it appeared freedom was never a goal for Not. The Ignitaur wished to destroy the ship, the horde, and its own kind. Two of those goals were contrary to Uruk’s mission.
Xuxuhr had been kept the Ignitaurs a secret from the Dark Urge. They were technological creatures also adept at sorcery. They tapped the arcane powers rippling through Xuxuhr’s hellship and used it to power their weapons and revolt. Uruk found that impressive. But the unexpected and mysterious change in course from doom allowed Uruk to continue his mission. The sorcerous bull-folk might become allies. Or, they could resist and die. Uruk had prepared for both outcomes.
Complications were now far greater for the Ignitaurs. Uruk knew his greatest threat to them was not death, but continued life after defeat. If they found this appalling, then cooperation might appeal to their survivors. Uruk needed a functional ship. They knew what sabotage they had wrought. A truce would at least provide that information. Their aid would accelerate his mission success. Unlike Xuxuhr, Uruk saw their value as more than chain makers.
But would they believe that? Uruk wondered. He landed.
Mintek faced away. His massive, red back flexed when demon talons struck floor plating. Mintek’s legs tensed as he turned with his head and horns lowered, as if ready to charge. When he saw Uruk alone and folding his wings, Mintek stood up straight and lowered his weapon.
Uruk considered the lone Ignitaur. They occupied a size niche similar to demons. This one was large and powerful among his kind. His strength was likely great, for something other than a demon.
The two different yet arcane creatures took a moment to glare before speaking. They were two leaders at war, but each secretly entertained the possibility of cooperation and peace.
“I am Uruk, Field Master and commander of this ship. It now serves my Lord, General Anguhr, the Destroyer. You trespass and make war on its decks. This will now end.”
“I am Mintek. I lead my people’s warriors and weapon smiths, and I speak for the Ignitaur council. You speak from strength, Uruk, servant of Anguhr. Yet we were imprisoned and enslaved by Xuxuhr. It was he and demons like you that trespassed and then destroyed our homeworld. You claim we have no grievance against Hell?”
“Xuxuhr is dead. Anguhr has no need for slaves. I offer a new future for your kind on this ship. But your war against it is over.”
“Again, said with conviction. Yet you feel need to parlay with we Ignitaurs. Should your tone be so—?”
“I have the power to speak as I please.” Uruk cut in and glared. “I have the forces to end this war in one last and swift battle. You, who have fought well, are granted a choice. Join my command, or die. If you continue your war, your leader Not’s fate for you all will be realized.”
“Not? I know of no such leader, but our council has reformed. You need only speak to me. And know that as we would die, so would all demons. You may have military force, but you have no control of the ship. Your doom is still forged to ours.”
“No,” Uruk’s glare eased into a cutting smile. “You forget we can fly, and in space. Now that the ship has changed course, the Red Giant’s radiation will no longer burn us. We can leave the ship and eventually return to Hell. So, no. We will live. But will your people live on, or become only memory? I offer you a future.”
Mintek drew a long, deep breath through his snout. His dark eyes focused on Uruk’s own serpentine eyes. “You are skilled with more than weapons, Uruk. But know we Ignitaurs cannot be imprisoned, not forced to labor. We will not be slaves.”
“On that we agree. I have no need for slaves. Nor does my Lord. I have need for warriors, of a kind. You will be warrior engineers in a new, united horde.” Uruk made a circular motion with his taloned hands and folded wings.
“And in time, we may find a new world to colonize? Such a chance for life and freedom must be agreed.” Mintek lowered his horns for emphasis.
“Yes. It is. But we can only do that with a working ship.” Uruk shot a glance upward toward the bridge.
Mintek nodded, and took a slower, quiet breath. “I must present these arguments to our new council. But, I assure you, we will all agree. As long as there is respect, there will be unity.”
“Agreed.” Uruk nodded.
Mintek paused. His legs flexed. “But clarify: will your General agree to this compact if you reunite with him? I assume that is your goal.”
“Ultimately, yes. Lord Anguhr will see logic, and trust my judgment. Our compact will hold.” Uruk’s tone, expressions, and posture displayed confidence.
Mintek paused as he considered his next phrases. “We face a great deal of work, to regain control of the ship, m
erely to steer it. I imagine your task to unite all demons is no smaller.”
Uruk suppressed a smile. He recognized Mintek’s last comment was a probe to assess the overall strength of the demons. Success in uniting them all meant he could be open and honest. The strength of the truth showed in his tone and posture.
“I have already united the horde. It stands ready to strike from all directions. Even a massed attack lead only by vengeance would eventually overcome you. But a horde well led would end this fight, quickly. Your kind attacked the ships decks, layer by layer. We can fight in vacuum, in all dimensions of normal space. I have formations ready to enter any deck from outside. I have a force ready to breach your stronghold from beneath the keel. In any scenario, massed vengeance or tactical strikes, your kind was doomed.”
“I see you are strong, indeed. Our compact will let us live. Then, with your guarantee of respect and freedom, so be it.” Mintek leaned back to place his horn tips behind him as a sign of peace.
“As allies, we will work together.” Uruk smiled. Albeit a frightening expression to most, it was one of camaraderie. “It is said that which cannot kill you makes you stronger. I am no stronger because a gnat can die from my stare. I am stronger when I stand with fellow demons, or new allies who can aid my united horde.”
“I suppose, that which respects your strength can offer hope.” Mintek nodded.
“Hope? Perhaps.” Uruk flexed his wings. “A future, for certain. Now, gather your forces. We trade weapons for tools. Our tasks are great. We must all start them, now.”
CHAPTER NINTEEN
Dread. The emotion lurked within sentient minds during the Age of Apocalypse. Hell’s war against life caused galactic dread. Terror eclipsed apprehension when civilizations saw a hellship enter their system. Even minds unaware of alien life and that Hell annihilated worlds around other stars soon realized their end was near when the burning craft appeared in their skies and demons fell upon their cities. Doom lurked among the stars.
Now doom was the intent of a long plan made in response to Hell’s terror. The last known hellship entered a strange solar system. Destruction was not its commander’s end goal, despite his name. The hellship had received and answered a challenge. General Anguhr knew it was a trap. He had fought across the galaxy during his internal worship of War and outward service for the Dark Urge. Now a rebel, he sought allies and an empire. The quest had not gone well.
War was still served more than goodwill. Hell’s campaign of obliteration had a lasting impression. Reputation seemed a force stronger than gravity. Yet Anguhr still hoped to break its constant. The Sword Wing’s commander had sent the challenge. Anguhr knew his ship would make a strong ally. It would make a strong opponent, if they wished for war. Anguhr and his horde, especially Proxis, were ready for both events.
Unknown to the General and his demons, Buran had also traveled the galaxy in preparation for the coming fight. To unlock and employ information left by the Builders, whom Buran called the Physic, seemed inevitable to the scientist and admiral born in a solar system remade by the whims of those powerful beings. Yet such success was an extraordinary feat. Buran sought the Builders’ power to construct an unprecedented engine of annihilation. Anguhr sought communication. The roles of each commander appeared reversed.
A dark traveler of mental planes had joined Buran on his quest. Buran insisted to himself that the intruder could not taint the coming victory. He had no clue the intruder was Octuhr, and his hatred of Anguhr was as great as his quest for ultimate power. Octuhr wisely saw Buran as the key for both. Now, one act was ready to play out. Afterward, Buran would be Octuhr’s focus to employ or kill. Hell’s legacy would persist no matter who was victorious. Even the Builders could not have guessed the extent of emotion, be it hatred or pride, that unleashed forces they once controlled.
Buran had planned a battle far larger than ship versus ship. He felt no dread, only a building sense of triumph. For Anguhr, his ship and horde, Buran foresaw certain doom.
“That you are preparing to strike is good.” The sound of Octuhr’s voice and the tone seemed at odds.
He still believed his mind projected his words across all the Great Widow’s web, but she had refined her silk’s quantum spin. Now his mind only resonated within the patch she once wove to capture him. The false thought that his voice echoed across a silken dimension pleased Octuhr. The fact it did not pleased the weaver.
The Dark Urge seemed content to sleep, and no one wished to wake her. The enormous spider took care in balancing her dormant charge still bound to her back. Then she began gently tearing away swathes of silk from a much larger shroud retrieved from the dark, lower reaches of her web and far back in time before she was called widow.
“Yet, and I am loathe to appear contradictory, I believe we need more time.” Octuhr paused to consider what the Great Widow was doing. He began to realize what she freed. Instincts inherited from living things over millions of years stoked repulsion. “Perhaps, perhaps we can use other methods. A more focused attack, such as what my mother did that awakened me.”
Because I wish no more like you to become awake. The Great Widow hid that thought as she tore away more silk.
“There is a need to master the controls,” the spider said and rolled ancient silk into a ball with her front legs. “The Forge and Hell's systems now function normally. But my ability to alter their control is, is—no. I loathe--I will not attempt alterations. Neither you nor I can withstand the extreme radiations across physical and arcane spectra that the Dark Urge stoked for fear of her children.”
Octuhr paused when seeing what the Great Widow revealed beneath her silk. Yet he could not look away. The spider’s ethereal weave locked his angle of perception.
“Yes. Mother had a way of treating her children that was unique.” Octuhr finally said. “Don't some children of spiders eat their mother?”
“Spiders eat anything with skin their fangs can puncture. Including the lost children of malevolent gods.” The Great Widow placed the ball aside on her web to make sure Octuhr’s view was clear.
“Venom. You wield many kinds of it.” Octuhr’s lowered voice suggested a speaker moving away. But he could not.
“And I have many ways to control surface pests.”
“I wish the trap to be sprung first,” Octuhr said with a strengthened tone.
“Why?” The Great Widow looked down at the body slowly uncurling from the partially removed cocoon.
“Because when that is done, I wish to test my new power. And if you are to unleash that, I wish to know my power is at hand when it strikes.”
“You fear harm?” the spider said with a tone of gentle taunting.
“If my power works, I will never know fear.” Octuhr said with confidence. “The galaxy will fear me. I will be fear, itself.”
“And that is what you see, here?” The Great Widow extended her right, front leg to stroke the slowly animating prisoner.
“I see a monster. And I wish to know I can crush monsters. Spring the trap, spider. Then unleash your horror.”
“My horror? Child, this is one of my former husbands!” The Great Widow said with mock offense. “I put him aside to eat. Yet something else sated my hunger, soon after. And so he has slumbered as your mother does. He has slept so long that he has forgotten how to dream. I nearly forgot he existed. He was husband, perhaps, five-hundred and sixty—”
“I wish to know nothing of your history!” Octuhr’s shudder vibrated his small piece of web. “I only want you to enact our alliance. Close the trap. Then unleash that thing.”
“Dear child, tsk!” The Great Widow suppressed laughter and continued her taunts. “You look upon it with fear. Yet, do you not know what form you were to hold?”
Octuhr paused. He assumed he was to be like Anguhr. But he then realized Anguhr was unique because of his parents. The other Generals after Azuhr, all purely born in Hell, were all chimeras. Monsters. He finally answered with a curt “no.”
“You should. And learn it well. There is a reason you travel well on my web.”
“No!”
“Yes, child. Yes.” Finally, the Great Widow laughed. “Now set about to your test. You will be free of your fear, soon enough. And do not fear my mindless and ever so ancient husband. He will bring your body home. To me.”
Octuhr was silent. The Great Widow thought the cause was acceptance, or terror.
The universe was sheer wonder. Such thoughts drove Zaria to protect life and to pay witness to the awe she encountered on her travels. Her recent journey had been fruitful. She had gathered enough knowledge to prevent another apocalypse from overtaking the galaxy, and perhaps reach beyond it. To an extent, Zaria’s need to defend life was penance for having aided the rise of the Khans. Their desire for equality to the Dark Urge caused her to create the Generals, and all the cataclysms of their age. In defending life, she defended Asherah, often called Eden. Gin was its caretaker. She was its defender. But this did not abate her urge to explore. Before returning to Gin and Asherah and marshalling allies, she took a brief moment to return to a sight that caught her attention, as it would any sentient life.
A cloud of slowly tumbling, rocky asteroids mixed with massive diamonds. Many more diamonds imbued larger asteroids, as did prisms of all possible crystalline shape. Light from the system’s distant, blue star shown through and split into spectra within the millions of clear and glassy planes.
A passing dwarf planet acted as a shepherd and slowly, over millions of orbits, pulled the scattered, crystalline asteroids together into a celestial flock. Zaria thought of a group of ancient beings on Asherah that diverged from the same ancestors as the Builders. Instead of powerful beings, they became somnambulant, sheep-like things she and Gin protected. Unlike these reflective, prismatic asteroids, she never cared to watch them. Zaria felt that living flock was lost potential. And though she had a sword when physically manifest, she never banished life from its niche, even life created by a tragic choice made by beings much older than herself.
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