The Empress

Two

On another world several lightyears away from Ignis Glace, a Nexus Senator worked late into the evening. Neu Schweitz was the third planet from the star Kale, the same position as was held by Old Earth in the Sol system. It was however, a smaller world than Earth and heavily-cratered. Due to natural biomass growth and heavy erosion from frequent storms, these craters took the form of thousands of sharp, striking mountains intermixed with vibrantly green, circular valleys. There were many cold, black lakes between the towering peaks, often as deep and dark as they were wide.

Lucas Droad’s desk sat atop a skyscraper in the capitol city of the Neu Schweitz colony, the seat of local government presiding over a handful of nearby star systems. He remained in his office long after the majority of high government officials had left for their homes, favorite nightclubs or the beds of underlings who sought advancement. He was that rarest of individuals: a tireless, visionary politician.

It had been fifteen months since the star-hauler Gladius had departed from the Kale star system, following its prelaid course for Ignis Glace. Aboard that ship were aliens more dangerous than those encountered anywhere else in human history. Since their departure, Droad had never considered relaxing and reaping rewards from his role in driving the aliens out of the Kale system.

No, Droad had not wasted those fifteen months gloating and doing commercial vids. Instead, he’d managed to parlay his heroic part in defending the Nexus against the alien invaders into a Senate seat. His incumbent rivals had attempted to paint him as a grasping bystander who sought to take credit for the efforts of his betters-or worse, as a man who’d brought doom with him wherever he traveled in the Faustian Chain. Although there was some truth to this latter claim, the people had seen through the rhetoric and voted for Droad. They’d seen him as the sole herald of the approaching danger, and sent him to high office rather than reelecting those who’d sought to ignore him.

Droad’s meteoric rise in political popularity had not been matched by successes in his personal life, however. Sarah Engstrom had left him for Aldo, and he’d subsequently taken up with Ensign Tolbert. Unfortunately, Tolbert’s infatuation with an older, extremely busy and driven man had faded quickly. Within a few months, he was alone again. He’d thrown himself into his work as usual, and managed to get warning transmissions out to planets in every direction-even to Old Earth itself, a world no one had heard from in nearly a century.

A little over a year after the aliens had been defeated in the Kale system, Droad called upon an old friend for a visit. He called Aldo Moreno. The man came that very morning, as he’d been residing in the capitol city near the Nexus headquarters. Droad had known this, but hadn’t expected such a rapid response.

Aldo appeared at the doorway as it dissolved away with a shimmer. He was of Swiss-Italian descent, as were many on Neu Schweitz. His hair and eyes were dark and thoughtful. His large nose tended to tilt high into the air when he was annoyed.

“Fancy door,” Aldo commented. “May I come in?”

“By all means,” Droad responded, providing a politician’s automatic smile.

Aldo stepped inside and inspected the office. He whistled in appreciation, toeing the rich carpet that was over an inch deep. He thumbed the tail feathers of a stuffed rook he found hanging near the corner window, which offered a panoramic view of the capitol city far below.

“A real bird and a real window?” he asked.

Droad nodded. Droad’s eyes slid to the dueling sword at Aldo’s side then back up to the man’s face. Aldo had the eyes of a calculating killer, but Droad considered the man to be a valuable friend.

“Why did you summon me here, Senator?” Aldo asked, turning his attention again to the stuffed bird. Although the natives of Neu Schweitz’s cantons called them rooks-and they were black-feathered birds-they were not the same species that flew upon Old Earth. They were far larger, being nearly a meter tall in some cases. They were quiet birds, as well. They did not twitter and squawk. Instead-they stared. Today, this dead rook stared down at the two men from its timeless perch. Aldo tapped at one black, reptilian foot thoughtfully.

“I needed to speak with you about a serious matter, Aldo.”

“Is this about Sarah? I left her some time ago. You may not have heard.”

“Yes, I know,” Droad said.

“Is it about my dueling, then? I’ve taken care to keep kills to the minimum and my records will show every instance of a disagreement has been documented and witnessed.”

“Meticulously,” Droad murmured.

Aldo spun around and stared at the Senator intently. “You didn’t have a hand in getting me out of that misunderstanding in the tavern, did you?”

Droad smiled more broadly. “What you suggest is absurd. I’m a simple servant of the people. I would no more abuse my power unethically than would any other Senator of the Nexus.”

“Of course,” Aldo said with a tiny snort. He smiled for the first time. “And thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay then, if it isn’t a legal matter, or Sarah-why am I here?”

“Because I need you, Aldo.”

“An unusual admission for anyone.”

“Nevertheless, it’s true.”

Aldo squinted at Droad, as if peering into the other man’s mind. His eyes suddenly widened in alarm. “Not them? They’ve shown up again?”

Droad raised a hand to calm his friend. “No. Not exactly. Not yet. But I’m sure the aliens will do so-somewhere.”

Aldo shook his head and gestured for Droad to speak further.

“I’ve been busy, Aldo.”

“With the Senate and the transmitted warnings, yes. I’ve heard and I approve. I voted for you, you know. Even though I had to tap your name into the search field to do it.”

“Thanks. But I’m not talking about warnings. I don’t think they go far enough. I’ve made other-arrangements.”

Aldo squinted at him again. “Arrangements? That could only mean a ship. I haven’t heard anything about a ship.”

Droad nodded, impressed that he had jumped to the correct conclusion so quickly. Aldo was a sharp man. “Privately, I’ve worked in secret on several critical plans that have gone further than transmitting warnings to endangered human colonies. And yes, I’ve managed to get a ship built. It’s ready to leave tonight.”

Aldo was at a loss for words. Then a look of calculation swept over him. He nodded as if having divined Droad’s true purposes. The performance was so convincing, Droad wondered if he actually had seen more deeply than had been intended.

“This is about Sarah after all,” Aldo said at last. “I see it clearly now. You get me out of a misunderstanding with the law, then request a favor. As a result, I’m sent off on a decade-long fool’s errand, where hopefully I meet with some unfortunate accident in space. Elaborate, Droad. I had no idea you cared so deeply for her. Well, let me assure you, this ruse is unnecessary. I was infatuated with the woman for months, just as you were. But I have many personality flaws, and one of them includes an inability to maintain a relationship-”

Droad finally stopped Aldo’s speech, waving away his words as if they hung in the air between them. He stepped forward and reached out a hand. Reluctantly, suspiciously, Aldo clasped the offered hand with his own and they shook hands.

“No, Aldo,” Droad said. “I’m not sending you away for my own convenience. In fact, I’ll miss you and I’m unhappy to lose your help.”

“What then?”

“You are simply the best man for the job. You know the enemy. You know how to handle people as well as alien invaders. I need you to fly out to Ignis Glace and do what you can to defend that world.”

Aldo stared in disbelief. “I barely remember my grade school lessons about that strange place. It’s the most remote planet that remains under local Nexus control.”

“It’s also my homeworld, and I’m asking you to help defend my home for me.”

Aldo looked troubled. “You have family there?”

“I did, yes. I left long ago. I would like you to check on them for me.”

“But this is a diplomatic mission. I’m no diplomat, Droad.”

“You will not be the ambassador. You are to be the ambassador’s bodyguard. Possibly, the role will expand when you meet the natives. The people on Ignis Glace do not respond well to diplomacy. They are tough and unpleasant for the most part. That fact contributed to my decision to leave my homeworld and emigrate here to the capitol.”

“I understand they use titles on Ignis Glace,” Aldo said. “What was your title? Are you nobility there?”

“Yes,” Droad said. “I was a Baron and Droad House possessed a small fief.”

Aldo chuckled. “A Baron! Then you became a governor and most recently a senator? You should run for king, next.”

“This is no laughing matter, Aldo. They are my people. Will you help?”

Aldo grimaced. Droad thought drily that he looked like a trapped animal.

“Why me?” Aldo asked.

“Because you are as hard as nails and you can read people very well. You are not to be a diplomat, but rather an agent. Most people here at the Nexus-they could never understand how people from my frontier planet think. The people here are too bureaucratic.”

“While in comparison, I’m some kind of pirate?” Aldo demanded. “What do you want me to do out there?”

“You must do what you can to get the fractious Houses of my homeworld to understand the danger and teach them how to fight this implacable enemy.”

“All right, I’ll ask a deeper question then: why aren’t you going?”

Droad sighed and went to stare down at the city spread out two thousand feet below. “I’m needed here. If other infections show up, we’ll have to send a fleet to expunge the enemy. We’re building stations in space even now-hundreds of them. To keep up this effort will be easy for a few years, as the fear will be fresh in the minds of the people. In time, however, their fear will begin to fade. I remain here anticipating that time, a decade from now. I will keep stoking those flames so they are not forgotten.”

“Sounds dull.”

“Exceedingly so. You’re role is infinitely more exciting.”

“Still, your own family, Droad…” Aldo said, looking at him sidelong. “I don’t believe you’d hand off this mission to another unless there were a greater reason.”

Droad frowned. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to reveal too much. In truth, he’d left Ignis Glace under less than pleasant circumstances. He sighed, realizing Aldo must be told more in order to get him to go. “I had a wife and children on Ignis Glace,” he said.

Aldo’s eyes widened. He was clearly impressed.

“We were incompatible,” Droad went on. “I left to keep the peace.”

“I see,” Aldo said thoughtfully. “And if I refuse to go? Will you sign a writ for my arrest?”

Droad shook his head.

Aldo was silent for a time. They both stared down at the bustling city. A light dusting of snow began to fall as they watched, slowly turning the shoulders of the buildings white.

“I’ll do it,” Aldo said at last. “You know I love to travel, but I’ve never been out of the system. I have to admit, crossing blades with the aliens-that was more exhilarating than dueling fops for their paychecks.”

“Excellent,” Droad said.

“How large is the crew? Is it a big ship, like the Zurich?”

Droad shook his head. “Sadly, no. It can’t be. It’s a small vessel with a crew of less than twenty souls.”

Aldo looked stunned. “What kind of armament does it have?”

“Nothing to speak of. You must understand, the ship is built for interstellar travel- fast interstellar travel. It must catch up with Gladius and pass her. It can reach speeds very close to that of light, but to do so, little of her displacement can be devoted to anything other than propulsion.”

Aldo looked slightly worried, but he nodded. “Makes sense. Where do I board her?”

Droad gave him the directions, poured two shots of fine whiskey and toasted his friend goodbye.

When Aldo had departed, Droad returned alone to his window. The city below was gray-white now, punctuated by colorful flashing lights. Mech cabs whizzed this way and that, taking people to countless destinations. How mechanical and chaotic such a hive of activity must have looked to the enemy. He wondered if there was an alien counterpart to himself out there somewhere, struggling and preparing for war just as vigorously as he himself did each day.

Watching the people of Neu Schweitz was hypnotic. They’d suffered in the war with the Skaintz Imperium, but in his opinion they’d gotten off lightly thus far. All told, the people of this planet had been barely scratched when compared to past populations that had come into contact with the enemy. This world had lost no more than a million souls, and with that minor price the enemy had been expunged from the system. Unfortunately, the rest of the local Nexus-governed worlds could not be guaranteed such a rosy experience.

The Nexus Senate had passed a resolution to warn them in detail, and official transmissions had been made. The situation should alarm any colonial government: countless vids streamed out, showing the enemy, their ships, their virulent power to grow in numbers and military strength exponentially in a very short time span. Every world was exhorted to vigilance and defensive build-up. They were to arm themselves and seek out every anomaly in their local handfuls of planets and asteroids, hunting down possible invaders. The biggest fear was of sleeper-agents, reawakened and goaded into activity by signals sent out by the enemy over recent years. The alien transmissions had awakened pockets of dormant creatures with these signals, or at least had done so in the grim case of Minerva, and her slaughtered inhabitants, a people formerly known as the Vlax.

Droad’s mind turned back to Aldo. He wondered how he would fare on the frontier world of Ignis Glace. Hopefully, he would perform great deeds there, should they require doing.

Droad feared that they would.

Aboard Gladius, events unfolded slowly at first. The continuously accelerating ship blazed onward for the first leg of the journey toward Ignis Glace without mishap. The middle leg of the voyage would be spent coasting at approximately sixty percent of the speed of light, while the last stretch would be spent decelerating so the ship would not flash through the destination system in a matter of hours. The course and program were locked in, and little variation could be applied to these preset arrangements without disastrous consequences.

For those of the crew that were not in cryo-sleep, the two Gs of acceleration weren’t the only hardship that must be dealt with. The incredible speed of interstellar travel was not without complications. Ships such as Gladius generated a time dilation effect for those aboard, a side-effect of Einstein’s theory of relativity, which unfortunately for spacers, had turned out to be more than just a theory. The faster the ship went, the slower time progressed for those who existed aboard her. All told, the journey would take a little over two years of relative time off the lives of the crew and passengers, despite the fact the distance covered was several lightyears. Most spacers aged at approximately one third the rate of people who lived on a planet. Aging slowly was an unavoidable part of life for those who traveled regularly among the stars. They were nomads of the cosmos who rarely returned to their native worlds-and they were unlikely to see a familiar living face if they ever did go home. Their parents would generally be dead after what seemed only a decade to them. Likewise, anyone left home such as a spouse, sibling or even their own children might be found old and decrepit by the time they returned. Spacers occasionally took their families with them, but more often they simply didn’t have a family, and lived disconnected lives inside the bellies of their vast ships.

Fateful events began to unfold on Gladius when the AI watchdogs on the bridge detected an anomaly. The lifeboat systems were going offline, one after another. In the strictest terms, this was not a huge problem. When traveling at half the speed of light, lifeboats were useless anyway. If there was a serious problem aboard ship, none could escape death by abandoning Gladius. Small ships didn’t have the propulsion required to decelerate enough to make a safe landing. In past cases where lifeboat exits from interstellar craft had been attempted, the results had been dramatic and troubling. Anyone in such a small craft traveling at such extreme speeds often slammed into the planet of their destination at speeds measured in millions of miles per hour-or more likely, they sailed through the system entirely and vanish into deepest space.

Extreme speeds caused other deadly hazards as well. Large vessels such as Gladius had a field generated in the nose section, an electromagnetic trick of physics that prevented the bits of stardust and debris that floated everywhere in the cosmos from piercing the hull. Traveling at tremendous speeds, a grain of sand became a tiny bullet that would puncture the ship’s skin and anyone inside the hull. The forward fields prevented such catastrophes.

Lifeboats, however, had neither protective fields nor powerful engines. In short, they were useless during long-range crossings of the void. Knowing all this, the midshipman who discovered the anomaly in the lifeboat pods did so without grave concern. The ensign who received the midshipman’s boring report was equally disinterested. He filed an email, and a copy of the work-order was sent to all the lower deck maintenance people, most of who were hibernating in cryo-sleep. The ensign knew the matter would be properly handled in a few weeks, when the majority of the crew would be awakened for the long months of coasting in space. At that point, there would be plenty of time for repairs on relatively useless systems.

#

Third-rate maintenance crewman Garth was a tall, gangling man who rarely spoke and who had been cursed with a haunting stare. After the aliens had been hunted down and expunged from Gladius, Garth had been found hiding in the vast hold and declared a stowaway. His status was upgraded to that of ‘refugee’ after it was determined he’d survived the horrors of both Garm and Neu Schweitz. Taking pity on the skinny wretch with coal-black eyes, the Captain had ordered that he be released from the brig and assigned to cleaning the engine rooms to earn his keep. Garth performed his duties as a silent, ghostly presence. Others tried to befriend him, but they were routinely ignored until they gave up.

Seventeen standard days before the coasting period began, Garth received a memo in his email box. It was a work-order, suggesting that some unknown level of maintenance was required in the lifeboat berths on the starboard side of the ship. Garth studied the email with concern. The order was vague, saying a warning alarm had been tripped, but there was nothing about the cause nor the solution. He was to ‘investigate’ this ‘anomaly’. Neither of these words were ones that Garth welcomed. After dealing with the alien Skaintz on multiple occasions, he’d come to recognize their operational signatures. This could be nothing at all-or it could be the end of everything.

Garth tucked his computer scroll into his utility belt, tightened the touch-seals on his coveralls and headed for his supply closet. The door groaned on metal hinges as it swung open. Inside was his kit: a self-propelling cart mounted on an octagonal anti-grav pad. A bewildering array of power tools, cleaning systems and a central trash compactor made up the bulk of the kit. A tall suction-mop stood clipped to the compactor. The ragged head of the mop flapped like a pennant as he pushed the humming contrivance down the tube-like corridors.

Garth passed one or two crewman on his wending way down to the lifeboat pods. Often, they waved or called out a salutation, but Garth did not respond-he never did. His eyes might flick to theirs, but after a fleeting moment of contact, his vision roved elsewhere. The crewmen shrugged, unoffended. He was the weird maintenance guy-there was nothing unusual about his behavior.

To reach the lifeboat pods, he had to travel through the forward hold. Garth didn’t like the hold. It was too big, and too impossibly full of unknowns. Mountains of equipment and trade goods filled the chamber, which was miles long and dimly lit. His eyes never ceased trying to examine everything as he walked through the hold. Now and then, he thought he heard an odd sound, but although he halted the cart and paused stock-still, listening intently, he never heard it again. After a moment he continued on his way, more agitated than before.

At long last, he reached the lifeboat pods. He hesitated at the entrance. The indicator lights on the pressure bulkheads were all green. But electro-mechanical systems could not detect malevolent intent.

Finally, he touched the actuator and the door dilated open with alarming speed. He took a single step forward-and halted.

It was the smell. He knew that smell. Acrid and dank at the same time. A smell like that of industrial waste mixed with rotting seafood. It wasn’t just the odor-the nature of the air itself inside the pod was wrong. It was too warm, and too humid.

He could see a dozen lifeboats aligned silently in a neat row in the dimly lit interior. None of them appeared to be damaged. There were no slime-trails on the floor, nor over the sleek surfaces of the ships.

Regardless, Garth remained frozen at the entrance. His cart hummed, and an uncontrolled burbling sound came from his lips. Otherwise, he was motionless and quiet. His eyes, however, roved the scene. There had to be something. There always was.

Then he saw it. A glistening spill of liquid on the deck plates beneath the nearest lifeboat. It appeared to be a transparent puddle of- something. Mechanical lubricant dribbling from the aft section of the lifeboat? Alien digestive fluids? He didn’t know which it might be. But he was certain he had no intention of mopping up the mess, orders or no.

When Garth finally did move again, it was with smooth decisiveness. He shoved his cart forward, letting it glide toward the nearest lifeboat. Then he darted out a long, thin arm and slapped the button to close the bulkhead. It flashed closed with alarming rapidity. But not before he saw a shadow move toward the cart. Something small, something hard to see…something with many churning legs. It was chasing after the cart, pursuing it like prey.

The moment the door flashed closed, he touched a yellow actuator, locking the bulkhead and sealing it. He knew it would not hold them for long, but perhaps it would be long enough. Then Garth turned, and he ran.

The former skald gone rogue was tall and thin, but he was not a weak man. He could move with speed when needed. At this moment, he felt that speed was indeed required. He ran with long steps back through the hold. His knobby knees rose up high with each step, and his feet snapped down and propelled him away from the pod doors as fast as he could go. He had not wasted a moment of the passing months under acceleration. He’d hardened his muscles to an athletic level of strength, fearing the day speed would be required, and he’d be too weak to run under the G-forces.

He heard no sounds of pursuit as he crossed the hold, but that did not mean the enemy were not coming after him. He kept running until his breath came in gasps and hitches…and then he ran farther still.

After a mile or so, he reached another bulkhead, which exited the great central hold. He stepped through, damaged the mechanism to keep it from opening behind him, and continued running. Before he reached the elevators, his stomach rebelled from so much fear and effort. He retched in the hallway, wiping his mouth and staggering onward. When he reached the elevator, he pushed the button to call the mechanism to his floor. The elevator was designed for large freight, and thus was ponderously slow. He doubled over and panted, trembling with exertion.

Garth was a paranoid man, but he was not easily panicked. His terrified flight was controlled and logical-rather than random and thoughtless. Now that he could not remove his person farther from the enemy for a moment, he chose to alert the crew. This was not done from any sense of altruism. He simply and automatically calculated his personal odds of survival were higher if he warned the others. Not much higher, but it was still worth the effort.

He touched the communication system on his spacer coveralls and removed it from where it adhered to his chest. He brought the device close to his lips and transmitted over the ship’s emergency channel.

“An alien presence has been detected. The starboard lifeboat berths are compromised. Take appropriate action. I am Garth-”

He cut off then, as the elevator doors opened behind him. He removed the tiny communications device and tossed it away over his shoulder. No bigger than a shirt button, it made a tiny plinking sound when it hit the deck plates. The enemy used radio transmissions to communicate among themselves and Garth knew they would be listening and tracking all such transmissions. He had no intention of allowing them to track him via this device. He had given the crew warning enough, it was up to them, now.

Garth leapt aboard the elevator and slapped at the buttons. The doors closed with agonizing slowness. He rode the system to the higher floors, past the maintenance decks and the crew quarters. He rode to the passenger lounges, where merchants dined in luxurious saloons when they weren’t in cryo-sleep.

The chambers were all silent and closed now, as the passengers had not yet been awakened. In a few more weeks, the ship’s systems were programmed to rouse those who wished to enjoy the cruise. They could then entertain themselves with what amusements the ship could provide. Grandees and their consorts would party amongst themselves, representing the adventurous elite of a dozen worlds.

Garth rushed past red velvet settees, polished hardwood tables and bejeweled, glimmering lamps. At last, at the end of a long, ribbed corridor, he reached his destination. It was a circular portal of lustrous black collapsium, fitted with golden, inlaid fixtures. The door was locked as always. This was the only entrance that led into the sealed chambers inhabited by the Skalds, an enigmatic people who shared their skulls with the parasitic aliens known as the Tulk.

As a group, the skalds aboard Gladius had always been the most determined among the passengers and crew to survive. They had taken the precaution of sequestering themselves inside these armored apartments within a collapsium shell of inner hull-plating. This region of the ship had originally been devised for the transport of VIPs and small, valuable cargoes. It was, in effect, a large vault within the ship itself. After leaving orbit, the skalds inside had sealed the entrances and disabled the overrides. They had meticulously maintained a policy of avoidance with everyone, especially the baffled crew outside their fortress.

Garth had witnessed the Captain of the ship trying to talk the skalds out of their odd mood on several occasions without success. He’d activated the intercom, and assured the skalds that the aliens had been hunted down and expunged one by one throughout the vast ship. But Garth knew it was the very vastness of the ship that caused the skalds and their Tulk riders no end of worry within their shared skulls. They knew the enemy was very difficult to stamp out with finality. When under severe pressure, the Skaintz could hide with elaborate cunning, hibernating until an opportune moment came to pass to strike again.

The Captain had never managed to get any kind of response from inside the VIP saloon. At last, he’d given up on his folly. It was said the skalds were well and truly mad, and here at last he had undeniable proof of this generalization. With a final shrug, he had stalked away in annoyance. He’d told Garth they could rot in there, for all he cared.

Alone among all the crewmen, Garth had never given up on his attempts to communicate with the skalds inside the safe region. Garth knew his fellow shipmates viewed him as a mysterious figure, and he was rumored to once have been among the ranks of the skalds himself. This rumor was accurate. He’d once had a great rider, a spiny glob of jelly known as Fryx, living inside his own head.

Garth had often been found trying to communicate with the skalds inside their refuge. Never had he received so much as a syllable in response-but he still kept trying. Today, with the ancient enemy loose upon the ship, it was more vital than ever that he be allowed inside with his ex-fellows.

Gasping for breath, Garth listened to the emergency klaxons. They were blaring now, all over the ship. Apparently, someone had taken his warning seriously. When he could speak well enough to be understood, trembling from his exertions against the cruel G-forces of the voyage, Garth touched the intercom and spoke into it.

“The ancient enemy has reawakened,” he said. “I am Garth, rogue skald of Garm. I have met the things from the stars. Let me in, and I will tell you of them.”

He removed his finger from the key and listened. The intercom did not even squawk in return. There was no static-not even an electric hum.

After a moment, he returned his hand to the button and keyed it open again. “I know where they are. I know what they will do.”

He waited, listening with his ear pressed to the speaker. There was nothing. Not a sound. Perhaps they were all in cryo-sleep-or all dead. Or perhaps they listened closely, but feared to open the door. Calculating risks-skalds and Tulk alike were very good at that. He had to give them a reason to open the door.

“Fryx was my rider, and he imparted his ancient wisdom to me concerning the Great Enemy. I know them well. I know their ways. I can help you survive.”

Still, there was no response.

He heard something then. A surreptitious sound from the luxurious saloon at the end of the long corridor that led to his current location. His eyes widened until they stung. He stared behind him, toward the settees and bejeweled lights. It was silent now, but he knew he’d heard something. If they were following him-any of them-he could not escape this place. The ribbed corridor only had one exit, the sealed entrance to the Skald’s quarters.

“How did you recognize them?” asked a voice. The skalds inside their inner hull had answered at last.

Garth was startled. At first, he wasn’t sure of the source of the voice, then he realized it must have been the intercom. He thumbed the button, still staring down the corridor behind him, unable to do so much as blink. In the momentary split-second of a blink, his demise might very well come. In that tiny span of time, he might miss his own death.

“It was their smell-” Garth said. He paused, remembering the lifeboat pod, and the nests of the enemy long before that. “I’ve escaped their nests. I’ve witnessed their feasting. I know their wet, sour smell.”

The intercom was ripped from his hand. The door had shot open. Garth stumbled inside an airlock. He’d barely managed the feat when the door slammed shut behind him again. He suspected it would have crushed him if he’d taken more than a second’s worth of time to step inside. They’d have closed it without a qualm, turning his body into a splash of pulp at the bottom rim of the impossibly heavy door.

But none of that mattered now. He was inside. His eyes were still wide and staring, but unbeknownst to him, his lips had formed into a broad, twitching grin.