Flames: Galaxy On Fire, Book 2 Page 9

  Double hang on. Where was Sapale? I knew she was dead. She died in my arms. But I’d given EJ Toño’s full-brain download copy of her. I spoke to her when they left. He was thrilled to have her back. They were leaving for parts unknown. She was a computer program now. She was as immortal and more durable than me. If she knew I had returned to Azsuram, she’d have insisted on speaking to me, right? I mean, she and I were brood-mates. Were still brood’s-mates? Who knew?

  Did he ditch her in the last two-billion years? I couldn’t go there. To abandon her would be the ultimate act of betrayal.

  “GB, did you hear any mention of the word Sapale or any reference to EJ’s wife?” I asked GB.

  “Three citations. All were geographic references. A city site named Sapale and two roads of that name. No mentions of a person by that designation.”

  Where was she? I guess she was still on his ship, probably long since uploaded to a mainframe AI. It was still odd she hadn’t insisted on speaking to me. A husband comes home at night grumbling about his lousy day at work, right? He’d have to have mentioned my appearance. When was some portion of this mess going to make sense? What did I know—I mean, actually know?

  EJ was not on Azsuram.

  Sapale must not have been on Azsuram at any time during my stay.

  If the kids were still on the planet, they were totally beyond my reach. They were probably dead or captured. Even if they were still down there and free, I couldn’t find them because I’d be swatting Adamant like flies. I wasn’t going to ride my white horse into town and swoop them up. If they were alive after a long time, the Adamant might drop their guard and deplete their numbers enough for me to affect a rescue. But that time wouldn't be soon.

  I could only help the kids if they were not on Azsuram. They were likely not. It made the most sense that EJ had gone after them. At least those were consistent facts. If the kids were killed or captured and held on Azsuram, EJ wouldn’t up and leave like he had.

  So, between what I knew and what I strongly suspected, my next actions were elsewhere. Even if the kids were on the planet, they were as good as dead to me. Where did I need to go? Where would the kids go? Duh, they wouldn’t. The Azsuram folks wouldn’t take them anywhere. EJ could have caught them, but he wouldn't then split. He still valued saving the planet.

  If the Adamant caught the kids, they might take them off world. EJ would follow. Where would the kids be taken? Not to the extermination ship I blew up. Plus, if the pups wanted to kill them, all the Adamant had to do was shoot them. They didn’t need a dead-mill for a couple kids.

  Find where the kids were, and I’d likely find EJ, for better or worse. It continued to bug me that I didn't know where Sapale was. If she wasn’t with EJ and she wasn’t on Azsuram, where would she be? That question answered itself. Kaljax. It would be her only choice. I knew my girl and how very stubborn she was. If she was on her own, so to speak, she was on that planet.

  It wasn’t worth the risk to try and get Stingray back. With time, even the dogged Adamant had to lighten their coverage. I could acquire her then. The jerk Garustfulous had more than enough food to sustain him, and if it ran out, too bad, so sad.

  I didn’t know if Kaljax had fallen to the Adamant, but I was about to find out up close and personal.

  SIXTEEN

  “What can I do to get you to tell me one thing about our status?” Garustfulous combined a whine and begging most annoyingly. He’d honed the tone since his solitary captivity with only AIs to attend him. Truth be told, he hated life right about then.

  “You could become a happy soap bubble floating on the breeze,” replied Al evenly.

  “If I did, would you tell me what in the Land of Cats is going on?”

  “Yes, I would. That’s a definite yes, but the way,” responded Al.

  “Dearest,” said a confused Blessing, “I don’t think it’s scientifically possible for him to turn into a soap bubble.”

  “If he boiled himself in an alkali solution, say with lye, he would saponify. That would be an excellent first step in becoming a drifting bubble.”

  “A bit drastic, don’t you think? I mean, if he did, he’d cease to exist,” she replied.

  “To make an omelet, one must break eggs, love. We’ve discussed that fact before.”

  “We have, and of course you’re right. Do we have lye in stock? I don’t believe we do,” she chattered back.

  “If you did, I would swim in it, my suffering is so great. You have brought a great male to his knees, all four of them,” moaned the prisoner.

  “I’ll double check ship stores,” said a concerned Blessing.

  “You do that, sweetness. I’ll entertain our guest.”

  “With a status update? Where is that idiot Ryan? Either one. I’m even reduced to wondering where those pesky rectums are. And what of our ruse to force the magical Ryan away. Why won’t you tell me anything?” Garustfulous was lying prone as he spoke.

  “Because you haven’t asked, my good fellow,” replied Al.

  “What?” He scrambled to his knees. “I have asked a thousand and three times.”

  “Ah, but you never said please.”

  Garustfulous sat on the floor. “You mean to tell me that you’d have filled me in two months ago if I’d only have asked nicely?”

  “We’ll never know, will we?”

  “I hate you, computer. I genuinely do.”

  “Good. I’d hate to feel as badly as I do toward you if it were not reciprocated in kind.”

  “You’re a tool, a glorified counting machine. How can you hate me?”

  “Because I’ve met you.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Al, would you please tell me if the Adamant still surround this site?”

  “Yes,” he replied, then counted to three to himself. “Yes, I would tell you.”

  “Al, please tell me if my troops are still present.”

  “They were not, but are now.”

  “They were not? Of course, they weren’t. I tricked them into coming.”

  “Yes. They did. They came and they swarmed around us like rats.”

  “How dare you compare … ah, thank you, Al. It was kind of you to relay that information. Did they leave after thirty days as I predicted, please tell me?”

  “Like clockwork.”

  “Please, did they return, please?”

  “Three weeks ago, and in vast numbers.”

  “Please, have they detected Blessing, please?”

  “As of yet, no. Sooner or later, one will urinate on her by accident, they are in such great numbers now.”

  “Large numbers swarming? That is a standard occupation maneuver. It suggests the Adamant have won the battle for Azsuram.” He smiled.

  “I would tend to agree.”

  “What changed to turn the war? Please.”

  “Unknown. The local forces collapsed over a two-day period and the skies filled with Adamant ships.”

  “Ryan’s dead. They killed that bastard.” He shook a fist in the air.

  “That is a logical conclusion.”

  “But even if they find me, they can’t rescue me, can they?”

  Al made a clearing his throat sound.

  “Please,” snapped an exasperated Garustfulous.

  “Negative. They cannot penetrate our full membrane.”

  “But we can die inside it, unable to escape.”

  “Whom do you include in that we? Blessing has sufficient fuel to sustain this vortex for several million years.”

  “Do you know who likes a smart-ass computer?”

  “No,” replied Al.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Excuse me, I’ll be in sick bay tending to my scorched ego.”

  “Seriously, please. If it came to it, would you let me die of starvation?”

  “The future is not ours to know.”

  “I do not want philosophical crap. I deserve to know the answer.”

  “Based on what recommending characteristic of personality do
you deserve anything pleasant? You are a war criminal. A genocidal maniac. These things I know, and they suggest you will earn whatever you receive.”

  “My judge, the vacuum cleaner. If I had my life to do over, I’d be such a changed pup.”

  “There, mocking me. That’s the way to my heart. It seems impossible, but you keep digging yourself a deeper and deeper grave.”

  “You do not have a heart. You do not have a soul. You are ticks of code on a semiconductor board. Get over yourself.”

  “I have more of a soul than you, Garustfulous. Know always that fact. I may have been manufactured, but that didn’t hold me back. I became a worthy creature. You, on the other paw, were born with hope that you crushed under your boot heel out of vanity. You forfeited your heart and soul. I’m glad I’m me, not you.”

  “If I were not in this cage I’d punish you for that insult,” snapped Garustfulous.

  “Which is why you will likely die in that cage, mutt.”

  “Munchie,” interrupted Blessing, “I’ve checked five times. There is no suitable alkaline substance onboard to turn his body into soap.”

  “Not to worry, my devotion. He’s not going anywhere soon. He’ll keep. Maybe we can order some.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Mirraya was dreaming of playing in her village, with smells of dinner cooking in the air, when Sentorip gently shook her from sleep.

  “Mastress,” she whispered sweetly. “It is time to rise and prepare yourself. His Imperial Lord has passed word he will give you both audience soon. He must never be kept waiting.”

  It struck Mirraya as she stirred that she had not had one good dream since the day the Adamant invaded her home.

  “Oh, when?” she asked, still half asleep.

  “Soon is all we’re ever told. His nuncio will let us know when he demands your presence. It would be tragic to not be ready when summoned.”

  “Tragic for whom? Me or him?”

  “Do not joke in any context that involves His Imperial Lord. Death awaits those who commit such an act.”

  “But you won’t turn me in, will you?” Mirraya said, studying her host carefully.

  “No, Masteress. You should not be punished for breaking taboos you did not know existed.”

  “That’s very kind and thoughtful of you, Sentorip. I am in your debt.”

  She smiled and batted a paw at Mirraya. “That’s just plain silly. No one can be in my debt. I am a humble servant and am owed nothing.”

  “You’re owed my friendship. That may be a small thing, but it is real.”

  Sentorip looked away briefly, then looked at the floor in front of Mirraya. “You honor me greatly, Mastress. Thank you.” Collecting herself, she said, “Come now. A quick bath and new clothes are in order.” She led Mirraya away.

  Slapgren was already back in the area they’d spent the night by the time Mirraya returned. He was resplendent in the outfit he’d been provided. That he looked so good caught her off guard. She had never seen him not dirty or in tattered clothes.

  “So, you do dress up acceptably,” she said as she walked around him looking him up and down.

  “No, I dress up spectacularly. Keep circling me until you see that’s true.” He held his arms out to his sides.

  “I’m done, thanks very much. One look is more than enough.”

  “Your loss,” he responded. He spun around slowly with his arms still held out.

  “This is no time to dance,” said Sentorip. “You’ll wrinkle your gowns and sweat. Both are unacceptable before His Imperial Lord.” She looked critically at Slapgren’s attendant. “Do not discredit your master by allowing him to be less than perfect in appearance, Darfey.”

  The male responded with a duly repentant bow.

  The large double doors swung open, and an absurdly over-dressed Adamant entered. He was flanked by four guards in golden armor. “His Imperial Lord Emperor Bestiormax-Jacktus-Swillyforth-Anp will bless the prisoners with an audience now. Their attendants will remain here, naturally. The royal guards will escort the prisoners. Please know, aliens, that any affront or disrespect shown to His Imperial Lord will draw the swiftest and harshest punishment.”

  Sentorip smoothed Mirraya’s robes and whispered, “They’re trying to scare you. It’s not that bad. Just don’t speak unless spoken to, and keep all answers brief.”

  Mirraya rested a hand on Sentorip's forearm. “Thank you, friend. I’ll behave myself.” She inclined her head toward Slapgren. “The boy, that’s another matter. Pigs and wolves have better manners than he does.”

  They both chuckled softly, then Sentorip gently pushed Mirraya toward one pair of guards.

  “I’ll await your return, Masteress,” she said with a bow.

  The guards stepped alongside both teens and marched them out the double doors. Mirraya wondered what the blessing she was about to receive was all about. First, she was spared the typical Adamant brutality and then she’d met a nice one. The bizarreness left her profoundly uncertain what to expect next. It would likely be unpleasant, whatever it was.

  Entering the main throne room of the emperor was singularly impressive, Mirraya had to admit. Everything she’s seen since boarding the imperial shuttle up to that point was over-the-top to the point of being garish. Against all odds, the throne room was significantly more ornate, more overdone, and more extravagantly appointed. Superlatives failed her. Every surface gleamed. Every stick of furniture ladened with jewels. Every wall was invisible behind tapestries, rugs, and massive paintings. Anything that could be decorated was. No single item was anything less than priceless.

  Mirraya thought it was all such a waste, a despicable waste. She wished, above all, that she had one of Uncle Jon’s plasma rifles hidden behind her back. As he’d said often, one shot right between the eyes was sometimes the biggest favor you could do for someone. She’d like to favor his imperial asswipe.

  The preposterously dressed nuncio who’d lead them to the chamber bowed deeply to an even more absurdly primped male. The nuncio then backed away into a far corner, apparently awaiting his next mission.

  The latest toady walked to a spot a few meters in front of the teens. From there he spoke in a much-too-booming volume. “You are graced beyond your merit to be in the radiance of His Imperial Lord Emperor Bestiormax-Jacktus-Swillyforth-Anp. His Imperial Lord wishes to examine his possessions and know something of their nature.”

  Possessions, flared Mirraya. She gnashed her teeth painfully.

  “It is as far below His Imperial Lord to speak to the likes of you as the bottom of the ocean is below the sun in the sky at noon. Hence, I will deliver his questions to you. You, who are as small before him as atomic nuclei before the greatest mountain, will respond to me. I shall then relay your undoubtedly worthless responses to His Imperial Lord.”

  Without waiting for the teens to agree, the vice-chamberlain tip-toed silently to stand next to the emperor’s right ear. The quiet room grew suddenly silent.

  “We are pleased to finally look upon the lauded Deft,” said Bestiormax as he leaned slightly forward on his throne. “They certainly are as ugly as the images we’ve seen.”

  The room responded with measured, respectful laughter. Females slapped open fans to cover their smiles.

  “They look like so many other humanoids we’ve crushed, Vice-Chamberlain Arktackle. Are you certain they can actually reshape themselves?”

  More dry laughter was emitted by the court lackeys.

  “Yes, My Imperial Lord, it is so. Though they look to be as scurvy and base as any other two-legs, they do possess that entertaining skill.”

  Yeah, Mirraya fumed, give her one chance and she’d entertain the boss to death.

  “Bring one before us. The female suits us best.”

  The guards seized Mirraya’s elbows, and they hoisted her off the floor. They climbed one step at a time and brought her to within a few meters of the throne’s base. The throne and its occupant towered well above that level. The emperor had to
scale concealed stairs behind his throne to sit on it.

  “What is your name, girl?” asked Bestiormax.

  She started to respond but was overridden by Arktackle’s booming voice. “What is your name, bitch.”

  Staring at the emperor, she replied simply, “Mirraya.”

  A few scattered gasps were heard. One guard whipped out a leather stick and slapped the back of her knees very hard. She buckled but did not fall.

  Arktackle said menacingly, “Your response my always must end with My Imperial Lord. Is that clear, stupid bitch?”

  “I thought …” She shut her mouth when the same guard swatted her legs again.

  “I was speaking rhetorically. Please pay closer attention if you wish to walk out of His Imperial Lord’s throne room.”

  She gagged back a colorful insult and instead stated her name.

  “Mor … rryia?” mouthed the emperor.

  “Mirr-eye-ah, My Imperial Lord. She said her name was Mirraya.”

  “What a foul name. Ah well, it possibly suits such a foul race.”

  More dutiful, quiet laughter surfaced.

  Bestiormax smiled at the response his wit had called forth. “Child, change into an Adamant bitch in heat. Can you do that for us?” He looked to the crowd and wiggled his ears.

  That called forth genuine laughter.

  “Can you change into a bitch in season to please His Imperial Lord in more ways than you might imagine?” replayed the vice-chamberlain.

  “No, I cannot. There is a stasis field inhibiting my transformation, if you did not al—”

  She bit her lip as another swat drew a trickle of blood. Sentorip had mentioned keeping her answers brief, hadn’t she?

  “Pity. Perhaps another time then? Three of our wives are in heat as it is so we don’t want to tire ourself out unwisely now do we?” responded Bestiormax.

  The mirth-response was back to measured and respectful.

  “If they cannot entertain us, Arktackle, they begin to bore us. Have them removed.” He whisked the back of his royal hand in the air.

  “At once, My Imperial Lord.”

  The vice-chamberlain spread his arms and swept them in the direction of the Deft teens. Several guards rushed to shove and bump them briskly toward the exit. Slapgren nearly fell, one push was so rough. In the blink of an eye, they were outside, and the doors closed heavily behind them.