Lacuna: The Prelude to Eternity (20 page)

[“Hardship breeds strength,”] said Stumpy, his attention focused on the ground. [“I smell metal. Flame. We are close.”]

Perhaps the Kel-Voran was simply smelling the burning from the orbital bombardment. Liao said nothing, trusting his judgment.

Stumpy lead them on a winding, meandering trail that seemed to double back on itself. He made no effort to avoid deeper parts of the bog, simply wading in up to his shoulders, holding his primary weapons above his reptilian head.
 

“What’s the point of bringing all those guns if he just lets them get fucked up?” whispered Cheung.

Liao assumed—or rather, kept assuring herself—that Stumpy knew what he was doing.

Then he stopped. [“Here,”] said Stumpy. He gestured down into the mud with his snout.

The Marines fanned out, with Cheung and Keller organising a defensive perimeter. Stumpy’s hand disappeared into the mud, and he lifted. A muddy object rose from the muck, long and thick.

Four other Marines helped lift. Liao reached out with her prosthetic, brushing the mud aside. Beneath was metal, smooth and black, the same material the Toralii cruisers were made from.

It was an escape pod, but not intact. A thin line ran up the side of the hull. The metal of the hull had expanded and contracted unevenly, and a thin web of cracks had sprung up over the surface. Water and mud had leaked in.

A trickle of mud ran from the crack, heated from being near the hot outside surface
,
and with it came a stink, detectable even over the background odor of the bog. Something within smelled terrible: seared flesh, thick with the scent of decay and mud.

“Don’t like your chances of interrogating him,” said Cheung.

Liao’s hand found a round button, and curious, she pushed it. The pod’s casing groaned as the bent, damaged metal tried to open, the mud on the edges vibrating slightly with the strain. And then, all at once, the trickle of mud became a sudden gush, exploding out from all edges, showering the Marines with goop.

“Sorry,” Liao said. The stench intensified. More and more mud flowed out of the pod, warmed from being near the outside surface; the muck flowed out, and the unlocking and opening sequence worked with a faint hum.

Inside was a Toralii corpse, gender unrecognisable. Its fur was roasted off, mouth locked in pained, silent scream. Each of its limbs was terribly curled, twisted and gnarled, as though trying to extinguish the heat of reentry. By his side was a sword, splashed with scorch marks.

“What a way to go,” said Cheung. “Burning alive, drowning in mud. Poor fucker.”

[“He died slowly.”]

“He?” asked Liao. “How can you tell?”

Stumpy glared at her as though she were stupid, his black reptile eyes glinting. [“This is a senior officer’s personal pod. The occupant’s name is written on the underside of the lid.”] He pointed. [“Warbringer Avaran.”]

Liao’s chest seized. Her gaze returned to the corpse. Avaran… the Toralii who had led the assault on Earth, who had taunted her, repeatedly, about killing her with the very sword within her grasp.

Now he was a ruined corpse, burned beyond recognition. He had died a horrible death, trapped in a metal box with tiny cracks in it, slowly filling with hellfire, hot enough to inspire agony but not hot enough to kill quickly.

“That’s as close to Hell as I could imagine,” said Liao. She inhaled, breathing in the reeking bog, and steadied herself. “I guess I was wrong. A fall through the atmosphere
will
kill him. Warlord Avaran is mortal after all.”

[“He deserved such a fate,”] said Stumpy.

She wanted to say something pithy about all life being sacred but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “You’re right.”

Stumpy seemed mollified by that. [“As do all who oppose the Kel-Voran.”]

“Humans have a saying: war is hell.” She shook her head, weighing up her options. The pod could be interesting salvage, and the body would have to be disposed of. “I guess we should drag this thing out of here and give him a burial. It is tempting to leave him in the bog, though.” Liao flicked the mud off her fingers and then reached in for the sword.

Avaran’s trembling paw reached up and grasped her wrist.

Everyone stared in shock. The paw, burned almost to the bone, squeezed her wrist, and his mouth twitched as though he were trying to spit some dark curse at her from beyond the grave.

Melissa Liao the Kittenclawed, The Butcher of Kor’Vakkar, The Bringer of Terror, Slayer of Varsian the Immortal, Breaker of the Toralii Fleet… screamed like a little girl.

The Marines dropped the pod. It splattered in the mud and began to sink. Their hands went everywhere, some for weapons, some to keep the pod afloat.

Liao tore her hand away in a frenzy of tugging. Avaran, a ghoulish living corpse, mouthed at her, showing blackened teeth. She’d known Toralii could survive wounds no Human ever could, but that was beyond even her wildest imagination. Even Stumpy seemed shocked although it was possible he simply did not know which of his many weapons to draw.

“Captain Liao to
Archangel
,” she gasped into her radio. “Medical emergency, medical emergency. Land immediately and prepare to load a casualty.”

“Confirmed,” came the calm voice of Medola through the tiny speaker. “Landing. What’s the condition of the casualty, Captain?”

Liao’s heart beat so hard she feared it would jump out of her chest. Her eyes remained fixed on the terrible visage of Avaran, burned to a cinder but somehow still alive. “I could tell you, but you are not going to fucking
believe
it.”

The Broadsword ride to the
Rubens
was equal parts awkward and terribly awkward. Liao’s flesh hand would not stop trembling. The cargo hold smelt of burnt Toralii, mud, and sweaty Marines. The medics aboard
Archangel
had no idea how to treat Avaran. His vocal cords had been damaged, so he could only shoot them wicked looks as they debated just giving him a massive dose of morphine and giving him a release from his pain. In the end, though, he was rushed to the med-bay and loaded with all haste into the green tank Liao had hoped she would never lay eyes on again.

The Marines left, presumably to get drunk enough to forget what they had seen. Liao was left with Saeed, a host of nurses, and Avaran inside the green tank. His eyes were open, staring into nothing.

“How the hell is he still alive?” Saeed asked, his tone completely disbelieving.

“You’re the doctor.” Liao ran her hand through her muddy hair. “Jesus.”

“I’m a doctor for Humans. No patient of mine could survive that. Burns of that level are just not possible to heal, and yet he seems almost stable.”

Impossibilities on top of impossibilities. “Stable?”

“Make no mistake, he’s on the edge of death,” said Saeed. “But he isn’t getting worse.”

She considered. “Wake him up,” Liao said. “I have a question for this arsehole.”

“He’s actually already awake,” said Saeed. “I think. Honestly, at this point, I didn’t want to give him even a mild sedative. He had a modest amount of damage to his vocal tracts, but the fluid might have repaired some of that. He could even speak.”

In one of the battles against the Toralii, Liao had authorised the use of Lucifer’s Gas, a terrible incendiary agent. A postoperation report showed it was horrifyingly effective. The Toralii were more resilient than expected, probably because of their fur burning away before their flesh, so they didn’t even have time to go into shock. They died because the fire burned away all the oxygen. Their skin melted, their muscles melted, and they suffocated to death—not that they could have breathed anyway because their lungs were burned.

It seemed, to her, that only Avaran’s hate was keeping him anchored to the mortal coil.

“Given the frankly quite terrifying experience I’ve just had, I would believe that’s possible.” She stood, straightening her back. “Okay, put me through to him.”

With the push of a button, Saeed did so. Avaran’s eyes flickered, hearing the outside noise for the first time. His pupils searched as though almost blind.

“Good evening,” Liao said.

Avaran’s seared eyes narrowed. His voice was a smoky rasp, barely a whisper. [“L-Liao?”]

“Yes. It’s me.”

[“You have… restored me? For what purpose?”]

“Believe me, we really need the use of that thing, so I’d love for you to actually die and vacate it. Alas, you could expire at any moment, so I have to be brief.” She folded her arms. “I know about the Forerunner in our system.”

The Toralii Alliance used Forerunner probes to scout the locations of distant worlds. Unarmed and used strictly for reconnaissance, the devices would find stable orbits or perform flybys on celestial bodies of interest and jump away to report to their masters when their work was done.

She had no idea if there really was a Forerunner. Knowing the Toralii Alliance, however, it was a reasonable guess.

[“They are… hardly well hidden,”] Avaran said. [“At least, not… by our standards.”]

Liao made a mental note of that. “Or ours.”

[“I am in… pain. Why do you not… simply kill me?”]

“Because I need you for a little bit longer.” Liao took a deep breath. “Tell me what you know about the microtransmissions being sent from our world.”

[“Your… world?”] Avaran laughed, feebly, rough and wet. [“No. Charity from… the Telvan.”]

“Ours now,” said Liao.

Avaran’s dying face twisted into a gruesome smile. [“Not… for long. We have… a contact. In your people. In your… senior staff. He tells… us all. Arranges… deals.”]

Don’t immediately blame Decker-Sheng
, she chanted in her mind, a mantra that largely failed to distract her train of thought.
 

[“Let… me die,”] said Avaran. [“I will… answer no more… questions.”]

“One more,” said Liao. “Then I promise, I’ll do it myself.”

Avaran’s corpse eyes burrowed into her. [“S-speak.”]

“You mentioned deals? Well, I got one for you.” Liao thought of Kkezi. She tapped on the medical console, enabling recording. “The Toralii Alliance has prisoners from Belthas IV. Marines of ours. We want them back. We have prisoners of our own—including your men. They all want to be free. My XO, Commander Iraj, believes that there can be lasting peace between our people in spite of what has happened. I’m not convinced. A prisoner exchange, however, benefits both of us and brings—at least temporarily, in some small measure—a reprieve to the bloodshed. Do you not agree?”

Avaran laughed, a death rattle. And continued to laugh. [“My people… will never agree to such a thing.”]

“As a Warbringer’s dying wish? I think they just might.”

He coughed wetly, and the inside of the mask was stained purple with Toralii blood. [“Just… shoot.”]

“I will,” she promised, “once you talk to the Forerunner and tell them I’m willing to negotiate.”

Avaran shrugged helplessly. [“Time… short. I will forestall the… inevitable back-and-forth argument… and simply agree. Tired.”]

Liao thought as quickly as she could. “The deal is: they send one ship. A scout ship only, the same class as the
Knight
. We send whatever we want. We give them one prisoner—they give us one. We go first. Proceed until there’s nothing left.” She mentally counted how many prisoners they had. “Let’s start with eight of ours. We’ll give them eight of theirs. Just say that.”

[“I, Warbringer Avaran… do endorse… this arrangement.”] Avaran smiled, a horrible leer distorted by his roasted lips, but somehow cold and indifferent. [“You are… being played… if you believe this will… work.”]

“I know.”

[“The last time… you were being played… and your whole world burned.”] He leaned forward in the tank. [“What will… you lose this time?”]

Liao shrugged. “That’s my concern.”

[“It… will be,”] said Avaran, his words carrying dark promise.

Liao entered a series of commands into the medical console and then touched a small grey button to execute. The pipes plugged into Avaran’s body vibrated as massive doses of painkillers flooded his body. She watched as the light finally died in his eyes, as the heart rate monitor finally flatlined and there was no more motion in the tank.

The only things left were his words, echoing in her mind.

It will be.

C
HAPTER
VII

The Night Journey

*****

Medical Bay

TFR
Rubens

Orbit of Velsharn

Three hours later

L
IAO
STAYED
WITH
S
AEED
,
JUST
keeping him company as the nurses disposed of Avaran’s body, but not before making sure he was truly, completely dead.

“Allah
subhanahu wa ta’ala
likes you,” said Saeed, smiling as he washed various instruments with disinfectant. “He gave you a chance to talk to your enemy yourself.”

“Honestly, I would have preferred not to,” she said. “It was frankly pretty awful.”

“Mmm, I can understand. I spoke to Mrs. Williams earlier… Penny.” He inclined his head. “Fear not, it was not a confidental discussion. She, unlike you, is not accustomed to war and is struggling to adjust. Yet, that woman continues to surprise me. Her skills are surprising, her courage, inspiring. I suspect her faith carries her through the dark times, as does mine.”