“I’ve studied the matter, one fighter for each craft is sufficient-”
“Ah, but what about when they are away? What craft are going to defend the mothership? The very ship upon which our glorious monarch resides?”
The Parent froze, realizing her mistake. “I had no way of knowing-”
“Yes, yes, the perpetual bleating of the loser. I can’t believe you took so long to produce me.”
With every word the nife spoke, her disdain grew. How could she have actually mated upon her first meeting with this insulting, pompous little-
“…excuse me, but are you even listening, my Parent?”
The Parent shook herself and ruffled her birthing sacs. “Continue,” she commanded.
“Well, as I was saying, we are far too close to the target system. We must delay the landing. Our first priority must be navigational. Increase deceleration rates to full, and-”
“This cannot be done,” she said. “The ship is of alien design and on a pre-programmed flight path.”
“Well then, introduce a virus to abort the mission program.”
“Not feasible, and too dangerous. This is not an imperial ship.”
“I’ve noticed. It’s much too cold for comfort, and the endless flat planes of metal-they are beyond comprehension. These aliens must love geometry and worship the straight line as some sort of god.”
“Perhaps they do,” she agreed, “but the facts are we aren’t completely conversant in their technology. If we abort the mission program, we may not be able to substitute our own.”
“Hmm,” he said. “A difficult choice, but I see your point. That puts a different light on matters. We have barely two months to prepare an invasion force against a completely unknown enemy. Daunting. You should have produced me and fresh Parents to increase biological production months ago.”
“Is that right?” she said, feeling a sense of triumph. “I will make a point of passing that nugget of wisdom to the Empress upon our next meeting.”
The nife’s orbs had been wandering, but now they snapped back to her, giving her his full attention. “And why would you do that?”
“Well, I’m sure she will be interested in your criticisms.”
“Criticisms? My task is to marshal our military forces. I only sought to alter a clearly flawed schedule of priorities.”
“‘Clearly flawed’ I’ll make sure to use that wording.”
“I don’t-ah…are you saying that the Empress…?”
“She is the Imperial representative aboard this vessel. She has set the production schedules. It is her work you have been scoffing at.”
The nife looked thoughtful. It was a new expression, and the Parent was glad to see it. For once, he didn’t have an instant, cocky answer to everything.
“Why exactly did you decide to give birth to an Empress?” he asked.
The Parent crossed her fore-tentacles and leaned forward on her throne. Doing so caused a fresh larva to fall from one of her aft chambers. A hest scuttled forward to retrieve the squirming thing and carry it off to the nursery.
“Are you suggesting that was a mistake in that department as well?” she asked. In her mind, she was already foreseeing a dual spacing.
“I’m suggesting nothing of the kind!”
“Good. I’ve made careful notes upon the rest of your remarks, however. You must excuse me, as I need to go speak with the Empress.”
“Wait!” cried the nife in sudden alarm. “Why would you do that? She might space me as well. Don’t you wish to see the Imperium triumph?”
“Naturally, but I’ll be dead by the time it does. Do not worry on that account. The Empress will enjoy your statements as much as I have, I’m sure.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you are a rude and thoughtless offspring. I believe I might actually enjoy my final moments if I were provided the spectacle of seeing you twirling out into space beside me. We can asphyxiate and freeze together in the darkness.”
The Parent struggled as she climbed down from her birthing throne and dragged her bloated body toward the exit. She left a trail of glistening liquids behind her.
“Don’t be so hasty!” the nife wailed, following her. He wafted pheromones in her path, but now that she was pregnant with new daughters, she was immune.
“Out of my way, or I’ll flatten you as I should have upon our first meeting.”
The nife persisted however, following her out into the hallway. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said.
She paused. “What are you suggesting?”
“Withhold your report-indefinitely. In turn, I’ll adjust my own. We have very little time to prepare for this campaign. In truth, your services are needed to produce as many troops as possible if only for shipboard defense. If we can’t build enough fighters to defend the invasion forces and the mothership, then we can at least create troops to protect the Empress’ person. To do so will require every Parent we have, working at full capacity. I will endeavor to convince the Empress of these new realities. As you know, I can be very persuasive.”
The Parent halted and pretended to consider the offer carefully. “For the good of the Imperium,” she said at last.
The nife’s stalks rose again, and his orbs fairly popped from his cusps. “Exactly! For the good of the Imperium!”
Aldo Moreno had quickly arranged the situation aboard Aareschlucht to his liking. He and Joelle slept in the forward cabin-a chamber once occupied by the Captain. The bizarre skald was left in the lower decks in the aft region of the ship, with orders to keep an eye on the engines, which he professed to have knowledge of.
While Aldo was content with the outcome, Joelle worried continually. He reflected that the slaughter she’d witnessed aboard the ship had injured the bubble of invulnerability so many people’s minds seemed to live within. Aldo had no such illusions to be shattered. He knew he was going to die someday-probably soon, and in a bloody, painful heap. He’d long ago come to accept this eventual fate, and although he was determined to stave it off for as long as possible, he did not waste time dwelling on it. Joelle’s attitude did not match his own.
“How can you be so coldblooded about this?” she demanded.
Aldo shrugged and oiled his blade. One had to be very careful while doing so, as the edge was so fantastically sharp it may well take off the hand that cared for it due to a single thoughtless motion. Its sheath was specially constructed to avoid this fate by gripping the sides of the blade. The long rib of the scabbard that covered the blade itself never actually touched the edge when it was being drawn. If it had, the sheath would have been slashed apart as easily as any other substance that brushed the perfectly aligned molecular-chain.
“I can’t get the image out of my mind, Aldo-I just can’t. I see the scene over and over again. We dragged them out, each crewman’s body, and put it into the low hold. They are still down there, flash-frozen by vacuum by now I would expect. Those are all people we used to know-people you played cards with and in some cases made love to. Now, they are a pile of frozen, mangled corpses in a dark hold. Doesn’t that bother you? How can you think of anything else?”
Joelle continued in this vein while Aldo worked on his blade. She paced their shared cabin as she did so. Her hands rested on her shapely hips as she walked back and forth. When she walked away, Aldo often glanced up to admire the view. When she approached, however, his eyes went back to his blade. The power buttons on the hilt were less than firm, so he disassembled it to tighten the screws inside.
Finally, he became aware that she was standing over him, staring down with a stern expression. He glanced up, eyebrows upraised. Had she posed a question for which she expected an answer? If so, he’d missed it.
“Good point,” he said, hoping this would pass muster. It did not.
“You’re not even listening, are you?”