The Fires Of Hell Page 5

  “Hey, who are you calling simpleton?” pressed Mirraya.

  Cala took a deep breath, then another. “I feel this session is counterproductive at best. Let us break for lunch. We can continue our studies inside after that.” She turned to leave.

  “Not more boring books,” whined Slapgren. “All your books are so, so, dull.”

  “Would you prefer ones with plenty of action, maybe swordplay and damsels in distress?” responded Cala.

  “Yes, but I know what you’re going to say, so please don’t. It’s just that after a big meal in the heat of the day with your books, I can’t stay awake.”

  “I’ve noticed. In that case we’ll make it a light meal.”

  “No. Lunch is my favorite part of my day.”

  “I thought you said it was breakfast?” asked Mirri.

  “I’ve heard you claim it to be supper,” added Cala.

  He smiled widely and rested back, hands behind his head. “For once, we’re all correct. Please mark the calendar.”

  “I’ll put a red mark on your butt,” replied Cala. “Now get up, and both of you wash. There’s no knowledge waiting to jump into your empty heads. I must force it in.”

  Cala departed directly, but Mirri waited for Slapgren to get up and dust himself off. They started walking toward the house.

  “So dies another otherwise perfectly lovely half of a day,” breathed Slapgren.

  “Don’t get me started,” she responded.

  “No, I shan’t. I wish to continue complaining. If I get you started, I’ll have to talk over you to grouse.”

  They both had a good chuckle over that as they walked slowly.

  “I miss UJ,” said Slapgren looking straight ahead.

  “Me too.”

  “Maybe we should have gone with him?” he asked tentatively.

  “I don’t think we had a choice. The big dragon who threw EJ off the planet kind of insisted.” She stopped. “But still, sometimes I’m not certain this is the right place for us.”

  “Really? Gee, I only have that thought constantly, whether awake, asleep, and in between.”

  “Maybe he’ll come visit?”

  “Or … or maybe we can ask if we can visit him?”

  She scowled at him. “We have absolutely no idea where he is or what he’s doing. How would we locate him to pay him a visit?”

  “Cala could find him.”

  She folded herself in her arms and started walking again. “I doubt she'd want to even if she could. She wants us here. Suffering.”

  “Well then, she’s got both things her way.”

  “Plus, I still don’t know if those two hate each other. They blustered a lot at one another.”

  “Nah. That was just tough guy stuff.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “I guarantee it,” he said, puffing up his chest.

  SEVEN

  I felt safe assuming that Bestiormax was not going to assassinate himself. That meant it was back at the drawing board for me. This time I knew he’d be making no published showings for the foreseeable future, so I was even more clueless than before. Familiar territory. The situation fit me like a worn glove. It was clear that if the emperor wasn’t going to come out to play, I’d have to hit him indoors. Stingray was a masterful war machine, but hardly the equal to Excess of Nothing, not to mention the armada that surrounded it. So, an all-out assault was not an option. Even if I got the Deavoriath to pitch in, which I knew they wouldn’t, I’d probably need twenty or thirty more vortices to make it a winnable fight.

  So I was down to my only actual option. Sneak attack via infiltration. At least that way it would only be me versus the entire crew of one massive vessel, not the combined flotilla. Nice. I was getting a warm fuzzy feeling already. One tiny advantage I had was that I’d been on two of the Adamant’s massive cubes, Excess of Nothing and Triumph of Might. I had a general idea of the personnel aboard and the general layout. I’d also stolen detailed reports of the emperor’s ship. As those were my only aces in the hole, I focused on them. Again, it would be dicey, but not too difficult to have Stingray materialize on the boat undetected. It was anything I did after that was problematic. Most likely whatever I did would get me killed. Oh well, if that happened, I’d be off the clock. Bestiormax and his Adamant horde would be SEP to me. Somebody else’s problem.

  I never saw any humans or vaguely similar species on the ships. I’d seen enough personnel to safely assume there were none. My experience with Fuffefer on Rush to Glory supported that assumption. These Adamant were quite xenophobic. There were, however, guards of various species present, especially on Triumph of Might. There were the huge hippo guys and the even bigger saber-toothed dudes with armor plating. I was way too small to masquerade as either of them. The taller, skinnier guards inside the detention area of Triumph of Might were closer to my size, but I’d only seen them inside that area. Maybe that was their exclusive role, so there wouldn't be any on Excess of Nothing. It was too risky to pretend to be one of them.

  That didn’t leave too many other options. If I was going to successfully walk down the corridors of that ship, I’d have to go as one of those spooky Midriacks. They were roughly my size, and they wore abundant robes and had hooded faces. The very thought chilled me to the bones I no longer had. In all my travels, I’d never come across a deadlier, blood-thirsty, and ruthless a species as the Midriacks. Plus, aside from my brief encounter killing one, I knew zilch about them. I didn’t know if they stayed in groups, if they ate in public, or if they acknowledged other crew members. Heck, I didn’t know if they even acknowledged each other. Neither of the Als had any records concerning the Midriacks other than their service as personal bodyguards to the elite Adamant. Another perfect Ryan plan. Vague, more holes in it than Swiss cheese, and all but certain to crash and burn in an ugly manner. I could hardly wait.

  Fabricating flowing robes did turn out well. I put them on and practiced moving and fighting in them. At least with the material we used, the fighting part was hard. Maybe the real gowns were sheerer or lighter, but mine made rapid movements cumbersome. I transferred all my images of Midriacks to the Als so they could watch and critic my practice. Talk about setting myself up for misery. Asking Al to comment and criticize me was like asking for a double at a colon cleanse. But, since we all knew what was at stake, they were both very helpful. I knew it killed Al to not give me hell, so that part was nice.

  Once I was satisfied I was as Midriack as I was going to get, it was show time. We located Excess of Nothing, which was easy since it hadn’t moved since I was there before. Old Bestiormax didn’t really have anywhere to go, so the dude just parked his ride and partied on. Me, I couldn’t do that. I was a jet jockey to the core. Put me in anything that flew or drove and I’d take it to the limits for laughs and giggles.

  Knowing just two things, the layout and the exact position of the ship, Stingray could move with pinpoint accuracy. I decided where she should materialize, and she put us there instantly. I had her land in a warehouse-like area as near to the emperor’s personal sector as possible. The less I paraded around in my Halloween costume, the better it would be for my longevity. At the instant of arrival, I had her deploy a full membrane. If anyone heard us go bump and came to check on us, I wanted them to see nothing. That’s what looking at an object inside a full membrane was like. You saw nothing. I figured if we were detected and surrounded, they would never be able to crack our shell. So, I stayed put for two days before even risking turning the shield off for a microsecond to see what was outside. I was greatly relieved to discover we were not the focus of panicky attention from a swarm of Adamant.

  The only thing left was for me to exit Stingray and try to pull off what had to be the most insane stunt I had ever attempted. Heading out, I wasn’t so much scared as I was embarrassed. This was in the I-can’t-believe-you-did-that category. If I didn’t pull the deed off, I half hoped I did get killed so I wouldn’t be the laughing stock of the galaxy. It’s wasn’t eas
y being Jon Ryan. That I can say with some authority.

  I set up Stingray with a full membrane, but learning from before, I left a small portion as a partial membrane, so they could see me if I returned. Then, finding nothing else to by way of procrastination, I stepped out into the corridor. It was empty. I had counted on that, this being a little used area of the vast vessel. Doing my best Midriack impersonation, I shambled off toward the imperial section.

  It did not take me long to find out how the elite guards interfaced with the run of the mill Adamant personnel. The first soldier I came across basically jumped out of his skin. He was so startled and afraid he dropped to his knees and fixed his eyes on the deck. Man, I was an influential crew member. Most cool. To avoid any miscues, I pretended not to notice the grunt and headed off at my previous pace. I turned a corner and nearly collided with three officers joking and smiling as they walked. They looked to be off duty and letting loose a little. They were not happy to see me. The guys flew apart like a grenade went off between them. Two slammed their backs against one wall and the stray pressed his up against the opposite one. I’m pretty sure one of the two peed himself, but again, I didn’t acknowledge them. So far, so good.

  I knew passing the same test with another Midriack would be a horse of a very different color. Also, the staff closest to the emperor had to be more tolerant of these wicked creatures, since they were around them continually. But, I was all in, so there was no direction for me other than forward. It took me a few minutes to start down the long corridor leading up to the massive gates—not large doors, mind you, gates—marking the entrance of the imperial section. I was pretty sure one of the four Adamant I scared the bejesus out of must have called ahead to clear the passages. I encountered no one else, even though I was moving toward the center of the beehive. After all, everyone knew where I had to be heading.

  That fact made what I’d feared would be the hardest part of my task totally simple. I didn’t have a clearance code for the door. They changed rapidly, and any I had stolen were ancient history. I didn’t attempt to hack into the systems this visit because I didn’t want to up the alert level too much. But the moment the burly hippo guards saw me coming, they opened the door all the way. They also stepped as far to the side as their bulk would allow. I really dug being such a badass. Not that I wasn’t already, but now, it was automatic.

  I passed the gates like I was supposed to be there. None of the external guards as much as looked at me, let alone challenged me. I said a quick prayer and stepped into the sanctum sanctorum. Bestiormax’s quarters, a set of large suites, were well back into that portion of the ship and off to the right. I didn’t, however, know if he was home or wandering his massive living space. I was, as usual, hoping for luck in zeroing in on him. Since I wanted to appear like a true guard, I decided to proceed to some location with purpose. I was pretty sure the Midriack did everything they did with focus and intent. So, I made for the private suites.

  As I suspected, the personnel in this area didn’t freak out when they saw me. I did detect an immediate deference, or perhaps revulsion, but no one lost it when they passed me at a respectful distance. Then I spied my first pseudo-comrade. A lone Midriack was standing like a statue in front of a modest door. I knew it to be the imperial armory. No one was going to pinch an unauthorized weapon on the boss’s home turf. I had previously decided to ignore any brothers-in-arms when I encountered them. If that was a social faux pas, I figured they’d correct me. Hopefully I’d wing it in my usual style and not incite them to attack me. I was about to find out.

  I continued to walk at a constant pace right down the middle of the corridor. I thought I was luckier than a dog with two dicks when I was three steps past him without a word exchanged. Then my bubble burst. From behind, I heard the most piercing, unappealing high-pitched wail. My compadre was addressing me in the mother tongue.

  “Scaris me, tarfick. Pofffir contimualitiv.”

  No clue what he just said. Not a single one. It sure appeared to be unfriendly.

  In my head, I howled, Al, you get that? How about a translation like five minutes ago?

  I’m on it, Captain. I cannot currently translate. His speech in unlike any either of us have witnessed. There are no common roots …

  Cut the chatter and work. I’m in a pickle here, Al.

  Affirmative.

  I think he was acknowledging my order, not just agreeing I was in hot water. Maybe.

  I stopped and half-turned to the challenging guard. In Standard, I hissed with his intonation. “In the master’s home, I demand you speak his language. What were you born from?” I was kind of proud of myself for that impromptu generic insult.

  “Aldofago mosbotchyton!” he said sounding, if it was possible, even madder. He took a step toward me, but just the one.

  Elevating my ire in kind, I growled, “In my presence I will allow no treason.” Hey, in for a dollar, in for a dime. I had no idea what standard operating procedure was, so I might as well make it up and make it harsh.

  He bent at the waist slightly, taking my measure. “I said” he spoke in raspy Standard, “you have the scent of a dead clansman of mine on you.”

  “I know what you said, son of a thousand fathers. I curse the way you said it. My lord will know nothing of your disrespect while I live.” I took one step toward him. Luckily, my knees didn’t buckle.

  “You are not of my clan, Devour. Why are you here? None but Devour may serve the emperor.”

  “Maybe I'm meeting with him to see about honoring my clan, Jarhead, by replacing yours? Maybe he’s tired of your disrespect and laxness?”

  Dude took one more step toward me. He was maybe two meters away now. That’s when I noticed his smell, or should I say acrid, burning BO. It was faint, but it was nasty. I was surprised the Adamant with their powerful noses could tolerate it. That’s when it hit me. I smelled like an android. Crap.

  “You are no Midriack,” he hissed.

  “Neither are you.” Really, I was down to childish turnarounds.

  “Speak in our tongue, imposter. None but us know it.”

  Excellent point. That’s when Al boomed in my head. Say martezli firndor plaquit toofnar.

  I did, real nasty like too.

  I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could tell he was stunned.

  Al, what did I just tell him?

  If you sail north, you’ll find water.

  WTF? Al, you have got to be sh—

  It was all I could come up with that was cogent.

  That was cogent? Sail north to find water? Al, he’d have to be in water to sail. Why would he be looking for water? Dude, I think you screwed me big time.

  If you sail north. What you said was different.

  The Midriack threw up his arms and howled so loud I doubted there was an ear on the ship that didn’t hear it. One hand held his fighting staff. He had not ignited the tip, so I guess he was still blustering.

  “How dare you mangle an old saying to me. It is ‘If you sail north, you will find fresh water.’”

  I squared myself to him and placed both palms on my hips. “No. You are so dumb you’d only find the water you were pissing in.”

  I really figured that was when he’d pounce on me like a Tasmanian devil in the old cartoons. Nope. He doubled at the waist and began making a retching, choking sound intermittently.

  Captain, I believe he’s laughing, Al said.

  I replayed the sound, altering the tone to sound like my voice. Picture two donkeys baying at each other, but the honks were shrill gags. Totally bizarre.

  When he was done, he said something in his language.

  He would know your name. His is Ardiilii.

  Any thoughts?

  Try Bonder Wagd.

  I did.

  “Your name is Bonder Wagd?” He repeated it incredulously.

  I stepped toward him one step. “You have a problem with that?”

  He bowed deeply. “No. I’ve just never met a Bonder Wagd.”
>
  Oh man. Al, what does my name mean in his language?

  I believe it means “behind the bush.”

  I’m going to brain you when I get back.

  If you get back, Bush Boy.

  “I am sorry to detain you. Go about your business, clan friend. And I beg you permit me to use that joke of yours. It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You may, clan friend Ardiilii. It is my gift to you.”

  With that, I continued toward where I was going.

  Al, how did you know that was an old saying for these bozos?

  I didn’t. I simply strung together the only grammatically correct sentence I could fabricate with so little data.

  No way.

  Yes way. How else could it happen?

  My life just gets stranger and stranger.

  That I can agree with. We’ve been monitoring the ship, and there seems nothing unusual going on. Perhaps you have not been discovered.

  Perhaps? If I was, wouldn’t they have attacked me by now?

  Perhaps the know the legend of the great warrior Jon Ryan and are simply too afraid?

  Al, I need sarcasm like I need you. Keep monitoring and keep me posted.

  Fine.

  Fine? What kind of response was that? Fine. I needed to reprogram that tool.

  I was getting close to the emperor’s private suites. Two of the big humanoid guards I’d seen on Triumph of Might stood as sentries to the expansive opening. Odd. No Midriacks. They were needed to protect the armory, but not the boss? Seemed counterintuitive to place your second string in the most critical location. At least they’d spoke Standard.

  I stopped uncomfortably close to the pair, almost face to face, pointed to the door, and hissed, “Are you going to open it, or do I have to tear it open?”

  One shuffled his massive feet nervously. The other replied, but I could tell he was edgy too. “If you’re authorized, you open it.” He swallowed hard. “Please.”

  “What? Are you new here? Spies and subversives? I am surrounded not only by traitors but also by lazy traitors.” I used all the hot-button words I could think of, and I said them loudly for all to hear. Maybe I could strong-arm them into opening the door.