“Good. So. All was well for many years. Over time, though, Jeff, who was the greatest of the ancillaries, began to chafe at his status. He thought himself nearly as great as Mutt, and wished himself to be Prime.”
“Can you do that?” Nasha asks.
“Do what?”
“Can one of your ancillaries become Prime?”
“Of course,” Speaker says. “Where do you suppose Primes come from?”
Nasha shrugs. “Honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought. Keep going, please.”
“Yes. As I said, Jeff wished to become Prime, but Mutt would not allow it—so Jeff gathered his own ancillaries from the outer darkness, and flung them in at Mutt and her followers, one after another, for all of an age. These had no effect on Mutt, of course, but they took a terrible toll on her ancillaries, striking them again and again until they were little more than molten rubble. Eventually, Mutt took pity on her children, and offered peace. Jeff would hold sway over the ancillaries of the outer darkness, while Mutt would maintain her hold on the three inner worlds.
“Jeff, however, would not agree. He insisted that the outermost of Mutt’s ancillaries—our world, of course—should be his as well. He threatened to continue his war until all the inner worlds were destroyed. Mutt responded by launching a great column of fire as a warning to him. Though unhurt, Jeff was frightened then, and so he proposed a compromise. Our world would be shared between the two of them. After some further argument, Mutt agreed—and this is why our world is as it is today. When Mutt holds sway, we are warm and green. When Jeff takes his turn, however, the ice covers everything, and life must dig deep and await Mutt’s return.”
“Okay,” Lucas says. “I see now why you wanted to go with Fire and Ice. Probably should have stuck to your guns there.”
“So that’s it?” Nasha says. “That’s what you believe?”
“What?” Speaker says. “No. Of course not. That was just a story. We understand what planets are, and how our sun functions.”
“Huh,” Berto says. “That puts you one up on us.”
“But this is what you used to believe, right?” Nasha says. “It’s mythology—an ancient story passed down from before the time that you understood all that stuff.”
“No,” Speaker says. “This story was not passed down. I invented it today. You did not like my original story, so I made this one instead. Did you not like it?”
Nasha has just opened her mouth to say something more when Jamie cuts in over the intercom.
“I hate to interrupt story hour, but does someone want to tell me what’s happening here?”
A viewscreen on the bulkhead between the cabin and the cockpit comes to life. It takes me a disoriented moment to realize that we’re seeing the view from a side-facing camera. It takes another minute to see what Jamie’s talking about. Off in the distance, just where the ridge drops away, things are coming up out of the ground. Lots of things. My first impression is that they look like the leggy creature Nasha burned when we were on our way back from finding out that the bomb was missing. These are bigger, though. Much, much bigger.
“Speaker?” I say. “Those wouldn’t happen to be your friends to the south, would they?”
Speaker rises up and spreads his mandibles in a threat posture. “No,” he says. “Our friends to the south are like me in appearance, more or less. These are likely … I do not know the correct word in your language, but … associated with our friends to the south?”
“Associated?” I say. “Like allies?”
A ripple runs the length of Speaker’s body. “No, not allies. You and we are allies. Allies are equals. These are something less than that.”
“Vassals?” Berto says.
“What does this word mean?”
“Sort of a mix between allies and slaves.”
“Yes,” Speaker says. “This sounds more correct than either allies or associates. These creatures are vassals.”
“Is there a reason you didn’t warn us about them?” Nasha asks.
“I did not warn because I did not know. Vassals of our friends to the south do not ordinarily venture so close to our home—certainly not in such numbers as these. They should fear provoking a response from us, but it seems something has overcome their caution. It may be that they have been lying in wait for you.”
I really don’t like the sound of that. I’m about to say so when Jamie says, “They’re coming up all around us. We can’t go much faster than we are over this terrain, and it looks like they’re keeping pace with us. I guess it’s possible I might be able to roll over them or burn them down, but I don’t think we can outrun them.”
I turn to Speaker. “Pretty sure I know the answer to this, but are they dangerous?”
A ripple runs the length of his body. “To me? Possibly not. They should still have enough respect for my nest to avoid damaging me. To you, though? Yes, I think very much so.”
013
“BERTO,” I SAY. “Get airborne. Now.”
He turns to stare at me.
“What?”
“You heard me. Unpack that ultralight you insisted on bringing, get it rigged, and get into the air.”
“I can’t,” he says. “I need a cliff or something to launch from, remember?”
I turn to the viewscreen. “Jamie—how fast can you get this thing going?”
“Over this terrain? I don’t think more than twenty meters per second, and I won’t be able to hold that if I’m smacking into monsters along the way.”
“Berto, is that enough to get you up?”
He scratches his head. “Maybe? If I go to full thrust with the drive units right from the jump, I guess it’s possible. It’ll be close, anyway.”
I nod. “Good enough. Get geared up and go.”
Berto pulls on his rebreather, grabs his pack, and starts toward the back of the cabin.
“I told you,” Nasha mutters as he passes her.
“What?”
“I told you,” she says. “I knew you’d wind up using that thing to bug out on us as soon as things got hairy.”
He rounds on her. “Fuck you, Nasha. Did you hear what I just said about getting off the ground? It’s probably at least fifty-fifty that I’m about to go nose-down into the turf out there and get ripped apart by those things on the viewscreen while you’re sitting safe and snug in here. Fuck. You.”
“No arguing,” I snap. “No time. Berto, go.”
“I’m gonna need help,” Berto says. “Two people, probably, to hold me down until I’m ready to fly.”
I get to my feet, then turn and offer Nasha my hand. She rolls her eyes, but she lets me pull her up.
“Sure,” she says. “Why not?”
We grab our rebreathers, and we go.
“THIS IS BAD,” Berto mutters as he snaps the last spar in place. “This is seriously bad.”
“No shit,” Nasha says. “So why don’t you hurry up and get out of here while you’ve still got the chance?”
We’re clinging to the top of the rover as it bounces along the crest of a rocky ridge at what feels like breakneck speed, but is actually probably barely faster than I could run. As Berto works, I’m having trouble not picturing him trying to take off, then smacking straight into the ground and getting crushed under our wheels.
“I’m not talking about those things,” Berto says. “I’m talking about my prospects of actually getting airborne. You feel that? We’re slowing down. Think we could get Jamie to turn into the wind?”
“I don’t think there’s much of a breeze going right now,” Nasha says. “Hard to say which way he should turn.”
“I’m screwed,” Berto says. “Screwed, screwed, screwed.” He’s got the fabric out of the pack now. As he lays it across the skeletal frame, a sudden gust from the side billows it up until it almost covers him. “Help me,” he says as he presses it back down and starts stretching fabric over the frame. “This thing is gonna start pulling.”
Nasha grabs a wingtip in one hand and the rim of the burner turret with the other. I take the other wing and anchor myself to the open hatch at the rear.