Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (45 page)

Then there were the images and feelings themselves. Standing in some metal tube, seeing a canrassi in multiple visions, feeling an almost sensual sense of violence and aggression. What did she have in common with any of those things?

That sounds more like Nagogg than me.

At that thought, she blinked. It did sound like Nagogg. Frighteningly like Nagogg. She’d even held a spear and been adorned in the armor traditional of Bakma riders in one of the visions. The way she’d seen the canrassi in the most recent one, it was almost as if she’d been the beast’s master. Then there was her gruesome assault on Nagogg in the earliest vision and the fact that she’d baptized herself with his blood. These were sick, sick experiences. Almost religious experiences.

Her posture straightening, she raised her hands and slowly slicked her hair behind her head. It didn’t matter that it was canrassi saliva that was allowing her hair to be smoothed—the very act of not caring was almost liberating by itself.

The truth of the matter was, she wasn’t afraid of this canrassi at all. Not in the least. In the span of a single vision, or an episode of disassociation, or whatever it was that was going on, her fears had been made null. They were changing her. From her persona to her ability to speak and understand languages, they were changing her.

But into what? And who was behind it?

There was only one way for her to have picked up the Bakmanese language, and that was for someone to have taught her. She had no recollection of that ever happening, so she knew it must have happened quickly. Perhaps even instantaneously. There was only one way she knew of for knowledge to be planted and siphoned in such a way: an Ithini connection.

Ei’dorinthal.

The moment the thought of the Ithini struck her, she knew he was the answer. There was no other plausible explanation for this kind of knowledge to be implanted into her, and Ed was the only one on the ship who possessed that kind of ability. He was the answer. He had to be. She needed to find out what he was up to. Whatever it was, it had been a benefit to her thus far, even if in a strange way. She was alive and commanding a canrassi. That was better than having been devoured.

Svetlana was starving, and the more she watched the canrassi eat, the more she remembered just how long ago it had been since she herself had eaten. At some point, she would need some kind of sustenance. She just couldn’t bring herself to taste the slop her canrassi was eating.
Her
canrassi.

He needs a name.

Svetlana’s mind flipped through the pages of her childhood, searching for anything that might trigger a sense of attachment. It didn’t take her long, as the words of a familiar Russian nursery rhyme came to her mind.

Mishka the clumsy bear was roaming in the woods, picking up cones, singing songs. A cone sprang back and hit the bear right on his forehead. Mishka got angry and stamped his foot.

When recited in Russian, the rhyme had a pleasant, sing-song beat. She remembered it being one of her favorites. No other name would do for her now.

“Mishka,” Svetlana whispered, her eyes settling on the beast once again. The canrassi looked anything like a “clumsy bear,” but the name would work. It was disarming. It could immediately be embraced. As Mishka trundled toward her, his meal consumed, she ran her fingers through the fur atop his head. For the first time ever, she heard a noise emanate from the beast that she’d never heard a canrassi make before—not even in the presence of the Bakma on the bridge.

Mishka purred.

Smiling a bit, she scratched the canrassi behind the ears. “Good Mishka,” she said quietly. The beast leaned into her fingers as she dug them in.

Drawing a breath, Svetlana considered her next moves. Nagogg and his brethren couldn’t be allowed to know what was taking place. Whatever Ed was doing, he had to be doing it alone. Relaying beneficial knowledge to her would in no way, shape, or form be condoned. And so for her, the role of feeble captive, though humiliating, was necessary. It could possibly even be used to her advantage.

During the whole time that she’d been captive on the Noboat, her fear had acted as a roadblock. That roadblock was starting to crumble. She needed to know what Ed was up to. She needed to know the Ithini’s endgame. Perhaps he wanted to escape. Perhaps it was she, not one of the Bakma, who could serve that need most effectively. She would certainly be the last one her captors would expect to lead a revolt. But if there was a revolt to be led, she was ready to take the reins. The damsel in distress was dying.

As far as Svetlana was concerned, it was good riddance.

*
      
*
      
*

The dining hall reeked of calunod. The slimy, seaweed-like substance was collected in several containers atop the counter area, where the members of the Bakma crew had filed past to place spoonfuls of it on their food trays. Gathered at the tables, engaged in loud, jovial conversation, were the seven Bakma: Nagogg, Gabralthaar, Ka`vesh, Uguul, Nik-nish, Kraash-nagun, and Wuteel. Present but disengaged at the far end of the table was Ei’dorinthal. Bakmanese was flowing freely, the brash utterances of deep laughter reverberating from the four corners of the room.

The calunod was stale almost beyond edibility, but none of the Bakma complained. It was something familiar, and that was all that mattered. Despite its semblance to Earth-based seaweed, calunod was not a water plant. On the Khuladi homeworld of Khuldaris, calunod was part of the marshland ground cover. Heavily packed with protein and water, and with a tremendous shelf life under normal conditions, it was the perfect long-term travel food. Though not the most flavorful of dishes, it was considerably filling. The Bakma that the Khuladi selected as warriors—a large portion of the Bakma population—were fed calunod almost exclusively. To them, it was little more than fuel for the body, a meal to be ingested and then converted to energy. The
enjoyment
aspect of consumption was a human characteristic.

Banging his fists on the table before him, Nagogg brought silence to the other members of the room. With every pair of opaque eyes on him, the lipless chieftain rose to his feet. His eyes settling on his engineer, he asked, “What is the status of our vessel, Wuteel?”

His black, bulbous eyes surveying his comrades, Wuteel tentatively stood. “We are at full functionality, lord. Our fuel cells are recharged. All systems are operational.”

Nagogg lowered his head slightly, a gesture indicative of a thought process far deeper than being solely concerned with the operability of the ship. He continued. “And our weapons systems?”

“Weapons are at full capacity, lord.”

The edges of Nagogg’s gnarled mouth curved upward, widening his skeleton’s grin, though it was impossible to determine if a smile was actually intended. “Suppose that we were to deviate from our present course to Khuldaris and instead traverse into the Akaarist Quadrant. Could we manage such a deviation?”

The other Bakma in the dining hall sat upright, several swapping looks of sudden confusion.

Wuteel’s mouth hung open, though for several seconds, the engineer didn’t reply. At long last, he bowed his head in affirmation. “We could manage, lord, with but two or three added stops to recharge jump drives. If I may ask,” said Wuteel, his bow lowering further, “what would be the purpose of such a deviation? The Akaarist Quadrant is unknown to us, as it is to the Khuladi. There would be a degree of jump uncertainty we would be forced to account for.”

With all eyes on him, Nagogg lifted his chin—an indication of implied dominance. “That it is unknown is the purpose.” As his crew looked at him puzzlingly, he said, “Long we have sat under the weights of the Earthae. Long we have waited to journey back to Khuldaris. We are close to that time now, but it has not yet come.”

From both sides of the table, the Bakma eyed one another. Nagogg continued.

“We do not wish to settle for merely returning to the Khuladi. We wish to return and be elevated to the highest positions of honor. To do this, we must return to Khuldaris with something—a boon to curry the favor of Uladek. We will not curry favor by bringing the Khuladi an infidel and an Earthae female. We must bring them something more. Something unlike anything they possess.” His gaze swept the table. Drawing a deep breath in through his slotted nostrils, he said authoritatively, “We will bring to them a specimen from an unknown species.”

Silence abounded from the crew, as a mixture of excitement and apprehension rose in the air.

“I have been in deep prayer with Uladek to grant us this request—that we might honor Order and Chaos with such a gift to their anointed, the Khuladi. I was answered with a vision clearer than any I have received. My request has been answered.” His skeleton’s grin stretched. “The gift awaits us. Ours is but to claim it. For this act, we will be elevated by the Khuladi and reborn as gods in the Eternal.”

At the far end of the bench, his vacant sockets angled down at the surface of the table, Kraash-nagun drew a discreet, but deliberate breath. The blinded elite tilted his head to take in the subtle sounds of those around him—the breaths, the emotional indicators. There were none.

Almost ten seconds of quiet held in the dining hall before something broke it. Rising from his seat, the clanging of his black sentry armor permeating the silence, Gabralthaar locked eyes with Nagogg. The Bakma surrounding the giant turned their gazes on him as if unsure as to what his reaction would be. Finally, Gabralthaar’s gesture came to completion, as his helmetless head bowed in Nagogg’s direction. “To bring this gift to Order and Chaos would be an honor, lord. We will rule as gods in the Eternal
together
.”

As Nagogg growled in dark enthusiasm, the other Bakma at the table, too, rose to their feet—the lone exception being Kraash-nagun, whose head was still angled to listen. All at once, the other Bakma chanted loudly, their brash howls reverberating through the dining hall in unified zealotry.

It did not take long for the exception to be noted, as Nagogg’s head turned in Kraash-nagun’s direction. The chanting died as the Bakma followed Nagogg’s gaze. The lipless rider spoke. “Kraash-nagun, do you share our commitment to this quest?”

His head turning in Nagogg’s direction, Kraash-nagun’s vacant sockets fixed on the lipless rider. After a pause that was so long that it almost prompted Nagogg to speak again, Kraash-nagun finally rose to his feet. The blinded elite bowed. “The quest you have set before us is most devout, lord. I only ask to be remembered when the time to receive our gift has come.”

Though Kraash-nagun couldn’t see it, Nagogg smiled. “You will not be forgotten, Kraash-nagun. You will be included in the effort, that you too may reign in the Eternal.”

“Uladek speaks,” Kraash-nagun said.

His focus returning to the group at large, Nagogg continued, “Prepare yourselves, my brethren. Our elevation awaits!”

Pounding their fists on the table, the other Bakma present let loose with a resounding clamor. The voices, proclaiming their god in unison, traveled out of the dining hall and echoed down the Noboat’s main corridor. Their fervor was electric.

All except for Kraash-nagun. Sitting in silence, he’d been promptly forgotten by his comrades in the midst of their celebration. The blinded elite’s vacant eye sockets peered through the table. At long last, he turned to address Nagogg. “I will bring food to the prisoners, lest they starve.”

“Let them starve!” interrupted Ka`vesh.

Nagogg silenced the eager warrior with an outstretched hand, returning his gaze to Kraash-nagun. “What you suggest is wise. Why allow tribute to waste away? Do as Uladek leads.”

“Thank you, lord,” answered Kraash-nagun. Stepping away from the table, he signaled for Ei’dorinthal to accompany him. Loading a tray full of calunod, he proceeded out of the dining hall.

*
      
*
      
*

It had been a long time since Tauthin had felt the need to open his eyes, let alone hold his head upright. With his arms and ankles firmly in place in their metallic clasps, the former Bakma leader had no task to do other than dangle helplessly. There was no one to talk to, no one to wait for. There was only the wait for the inevitable—a return to the empire that he’d longed to escape from: the Khuladi. Despite his fatigue, Tauthin resisted sleep at every turn. He wanted nothing to hasten the process of returning to Khuldaris, even if only in the perception of his mind. This was a journey he had every intention of dragging out.

The opening of the chamber door prompted Tauthin to turn his bulbous eyes toward it. He fully intended to see Nagogg or one of his henchmen, Gabralthaar or Ka`vesh. When Kraash-nagun and Ei’dorinthal entered, Tauthin canted his head.

Stepping fully into the chamber, Kraash-nagun reached his hand back blindly to feel for the door release while his other hand balanced the tray of calunod. Pressing in the button, he brought the chamber door sliding down in his wake, sealing him and Ei’dorinthal inside. Walking farther inside, Kraash-nagun knelt and set the tray on the floor.

Tauthin growled. “Do you feel yourself to be in some great service now, Kraash-nagun?”

“I am in service to nothing,” Kraash-nagun answered, prompting a curious look from Tauthin in return. Angling his head slightly to listen to the door, Kraash-nagun spoke again once their privacy was ensured. “Nagogg intends to take us into the Akaarist Quadrant.”

“The
Akaarist
?”

Diverting briefly from the conversation, Kraash-nagun looked at Ei’dorinthal. “Release him.” Once the Ithini complied, Kraash-nagun addressed Tauthin again. “He wishes to secure a boon for Uladek in the form of an unknown species. He claims to have sought this in prayer.”

Tauthin watched as Ei’dorinthal unlatched his ankle clasps. The wrist clasps followed, and Tauthin dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch. For a moment, the Bakma’s muscles tensed.

“Before you consider an escape,” said Kraash-nagun, “consider your Earthae friend. She has been locked inside the stable with the canrassi. One word from Nagogg will find her devoured.”