The Cyber Chronicles Book III - The Core (24 page)

"Will you take
me to kin-mother-queen?"

Garchish's
hands fluttered. "Yes."

"Will
kin-sister-warriors try to kill me?"

"I cannot tell
what kin-sister-warriors will do. You are an invader-warrior; they
defend kin-mother-queen."

Sabre asked,
"Will you tell them I mean no harm to kin-mother-queen?"

"Yes."

The plan was
risky unless he found a warrior who would believe his story and
take him to the queen, since the worker lacked the status to
protect him. His first encounter with a warrior would be the acid
test. At least warriors appeared to be solitary, so he would have a
chance to defeat it. Then what? It was up to fate. It seemed that
only kin-mother-queen could give him the sword. He beckoned to
Tassin, who stood up, her eyes glinting with fear.

Garchish
turned his head as she approached. "Kin-sister-warrior?

Sabre was
about to agree when an idea struck him. "No. Kin-mother-queen."

Garchish
folded his legs and dropped to the ground, flattening his neck
along it. His whip-like tail curled into a tight coil, the dagger
end pointed into the earth. Sabre smiled. Perhaps Tassin was their
ticket to freedom after all. Garchish watched him, and he decided
that he had better play along. He dropped to one knee and beckoned
to Tassin, who frowned in confusion.

"Don't be
afraid of him," he said, "I've told him you're a queen. Their
society is matriarchal. He's showing respect. Act like a
queen."

Tassin eyed
the trendil. "How do their queens act?"

"I don't know.
Like all queens, I expect. Superior. Stick your nose in the air,
glare at everyone, swagger. You know the drill."

She glared at
him. "I never acted like that."

"On no?" He
held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "Never mind, just do it
now, okay? We have to go and see his kin-mother-queen to find out
where the sword is. With you as kin-mother-queen, we might have a
chance of surviving the encounter."

She shot
Garchish a nervous glance, and Sabre rose.

The trendil
hissed, "Does invader-queen give permission to rise?"

"Yes," Sabre
answered. "Take us to your kin-mother-queen."

Garchish
heaved himself to his feet, his tail still coiled, hand-arms tucked
against his chest. His head remained lower than before, and he
glanced at Tassin, as if expecting some sign from her.

Sabre said,
"My kin-mother-queen does not speak to hive-workers."

Garchish
nodded. "Of course not. No mother-queen speaks to hive-workers, not
even her kin-son-workers. Only elder kin-daughter-warriors may
speak to their kin-mother-queen."

"My
kin-mother-queen speaks to no one but me. She does not soil her
tongue with your language."

"I
understand." Garchish bobbed his head. "That is in order. I will
take you to my kin-mother-queen."

Chapter Fifteen

The worker
headed for the door, pausing to remove his panniers. As Sabre
stepped into the tunnel behind Garchish, tension made his heart
pound and his hands shake. His reaction was a standard cyber
response to danger, in preparation for battle. Keeping Tassin safe
was not going to be easy in a hive full of dangerous aliens. The
cyber's lack of objection to his dangerous plan was a little odd,
but perhaps even the supercomputer could not devise a better one.
Unfortunately, raising his metabolism also used up his depleted
resources. He glanced down at Tassin when she took his hand. Even
though she disliked his plan, she wanted the reassurance of his
hand, which he found oddly touching. Even more poignant, perhaps,
was her faith that he could protect her from several hundred
trendils, unarmed. Somehow, he doubted it.

Tassin sensed
Sabre glance at her when she took his hand. She knew he regarded
her as a foolish young girl, and hanging onto him only confirmed
that, but she did not care anymore. In this den of monsters, she
was not going to be parted from him. This was the end of their
journey, she was sure. The monster-queen would kill them, but at
least she would be with him at the end. Years of weapons' training
and close combat had callused his hand, yet it was a lifeline she
clung to, drawing strength from him.

Tassin trotted
to keep up with his long strides. The ugly monster led them towards
the busy thoroughfare and turned left, passing under a sun slug.
Other skifgar glanced at her and Sabre, and prickles of nervous
tension marched up her spine as they passed a warrior. Fear coiled
in the pit of her stomach like a cold snake, and her hand grew damp
in Sabre's warm clasp.

"Sabre?"

He glanced at
her, his silver eyes flat. "What?"

"If they...
you know, try to turn us into... cattle, would you...?" Her eyes
stung, and she gulped. "Would you...?" She could not say it, but
his eyes froze.

"Kill
you?"

She
nodded.

"It won't come
to that."

"You don't
know that! What if they won't listen to you? What if they only
regard us as animals?" She knew he was tired of her 'what ifs', but
life was full of them.

He sighed. "I
can talk to them, so they can't regard us as animals."

"You don't
know how they think. They might find a talking animal offensive.
What would people do if a cow suddenly spoke to them?"

"I doubt
they'd kill it. They'd probably keep it as a novelty."

"That's all
right for you, but I can't speak their language," she said.

"Stop it. I've
told Garchish you're a queen. They'll respect that. Their society
is based on status, which they're born to. They won't dare make a
queen into a wooden-head, even an alien one."

Tassin glanced
around, her heart pounding. The tunnel had broadened and
brightened, and monsters thronged it, many of them warriors. Their
guide headed for a wide, brightly lighted side tunnel. Two warriors
guarded it, their grey hides striped and spotted with red. This was
evidently the tunnel that led to the queen's chambers, and Tassin
fought a strong urge to run away. The warriors stepped into their
guide's path, and it stopped, lowering its head. The three
conversed in hisses, and the warriors peered at the humans, hissed
at the worker, then stepped aside. Their guide entered the tunnel,
Sabre close behind it. Tassin tugged at his hand.

"Sabre, will
you do it? If everything goes wrong. Will you?"

Inwardly she
cringed at the flash of pity in his eyes, mixed with the
unidentifiable emotion she had glimpsed before, but again it was
gone too quickly, his eyes turning cool and unreadable.

"Yes."

She shivered
at the hard monosyllable and the visions it conjured up. How would
he do it? Smash her skull? Break her neck? Would it hurt?

"How -?"

"Don't ask me
how I'll do it," he growled. "It isn't going to happen. I just
wanted to shut you up, okay?"

"But -"

"Stop it!
There's no use forecasting doom and death before it happens. We'll
get the sword and go home. If everything goes wrong, as you so
nicely put it, I'll make sure... I'll take care of you, painlessly,
okay?"

A lump blocked
her throat, and she nodded. Terror knotted her stomach and froze
her heart, cold sweat sheened her skin. Her legs had turned to
rubber, and she stumbled after him, clinging to his hand. A spurt
of defiance stiffened her spine as the tunnel opened out into a
massive chamber that resembled an amphitheatre. Warriors thronged
its perimeter in rows, squatting on their haunches, their blade
arms coiled. The air reverberated with subdued hissing, and long
necks weaved above the mass of lumpy, gaudily-striped and spotted
bodies.

The warriors
bore the colours of their rank, the back rows filled with
red-marked beasts, then rows filled with red and blue, then red
blue and green, while the front rows were marked with gold as well.
Their skifgar guide lowered itself to its knees and crawled
forward. If not for Sabre's solid presence, Tassin would have
collapsed from sheer terror. Animosity charged the air, and the
sullen red eyes of hundreds of skifgar bored into her. She
swallowed bile. Never had she been so afraid, yet Sabre raised his
chin and glared back without fear. She berated herself for her
cowardice and straightened.

Two sun-slugs
circled the roof, constantly renewing the glowing slime. In front
of the packed rows of high-ranking warriors was an area of polished
resin floor. Translucent pillars flanked a row of shallow, curving
steps, and four gaudily-marked warriors stood beside them. Faint
lines of silver gleamed amongst their gold, red, green and blue
markings. Resin curtains hung behind the dais, which the yellow
slime on the wall beyond lighted with a soft golden glow. The queen
sat in the centre of the dais, no larger than her warriors, yet
quite different.

Her skin was a
solid mass of gold and silver stripes and spots, and, whereas
warriors and workers had undeveloped knobs, she had long, delicate
spikes. Two sets of blade arms coiled beneath her fragile hand
arms, and her dagger-tipped tail was far longer than her warriors'.
She rested on a sloping ramp, forelegs dangling, hind legs bunched.
Bright green eyes blazed in her dished, seahorse face, and white
hair ran from her chin, along the underside of her jaw and neck
onto her chest.

The worker
skifgar stopped and lowered its head to the ground when one of the
four brightly marked warriors approached. After a short, hissed
exchange, the worker backed away. Sabre stepped aside, tugging
Tassin out of the way as Garchish retreated. She tried not to cower
when the warrior turned to Sabre, its gleaming, razor-edged blades
within reach.

The skifgar
queen's attention was riveted to a red and white-striped creature
with an amazing number of legs that cavorted before her, at times
revealing a row of square white teeth in a ludicrous grin. Its
spherical, furry body bounced about like a ball, thin legs waving.
Tassin wondered if this was the entertainment or an entrée.

Sabre studied
the warrior, whose expressionless eyes raked Tassin. Luckily she
was watching the furry creature, and did not notice. Garchish had
told this warrior who they were, yet she showed Tassin no
respect.

Sabre hissed,
"Is it not proper to show respect to an invader-queen?"

The practice
he had gained with Garchish had improved his pronunciation vastly,
and there was little wrong with his speech now. The warrior glanced
at him, then bobbed her head at Tassin. A token sign of respect,
which Tassin did not notice. Sabre glared at the trendil.

"We wish to
speak to your kin-mother-queen."

"She is busy."
The warrior's blade arms twitched. "You will speak to me."

Remembering
Garchish's words, Sabre shook his head. "No. I will speak to your
kin-mother-queen."

"You are only
a warrior. A wooden-head warrior, at that. You do not have the
status to demand an audience with kin-mother-queen."

"But my
kin-mother-queen does," Sabre said.

"Yet she does
not speak. She looks like a wooden-head to me."

Sabre glanced
at Tassin, who was engrossed in the animal clown's antics. He
restrained himself from digging her in the ribs and faced her.

"Tassin."

She turned to
him, glancing at the looming warrior, and he was glad it was unable
to read human expressions. He said, "Pay attention. Act like you're
giving me an order. Shout if you can. We have to draw the queen's
attention."

She shivered,
her eyes darting to the warrior again, and licked her lips. "Why?"
It was almost a whisper, and Sabre groaned inwardly.

"Because we
have to impress her, or we'll end up in the larder. Stop being a
damn coward and pull yourself together. You're acting like a
spineless twit! Do you want to die? I thought you were supposed to
be a warrior queen, not a snivelling, frightened little girl!"

Sabre spoke in
a respectful, hushed tone, but his words were meant to make her
angry, and, as he hoped, rage flared in her eyes. He knew it was
not just his words that inspired it. Her fear angered her, for
Tassin was no coward. She was tired of being afraid. She wanted to
go home, and his insults turned her fear into fury.

Her hand
lashed out, catching him across the cheek in a stinging slap, which
he did not try to avoid. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head,
watching the trendil's reaction.

"How dare
you?" she cried in ringing tones. "I'm not afraid of a bunch of
stupid, lumpy monsters!" She advanced on the warrior, shaking a
fist at her. "Get down on your knees, animal! I'm a queen, and
you'll show me respect!"

Sabre hissed a
modified translation into the stunned silence that followed her
ringing tirade. To his relief, the warrior backed away and lowered
her head. Tassin glared at the trendil.

"I'm sick to
death of all this damned sneaking around and political mumbo jumbo!
I want that damned sword, and I want to go home! I don't want to
die in this stinking, slug-infested, slime-riddled cesspit! And
what you've done to those people is shameful! They're not damned
animals..."

By now Sabre
was having trouble fabricating a suitable translation. Tassin
seemed to have tapped into a font of deep, heartfelt emotion that
he could not reveal to the trendils. He crawled to her and tugged
at her dress, as if asking her forgiveness.

"For Pete’s
sake shut up! That's enough!"

The Queen
looked at him, her eyes sparkling with rage, mouth open to vent the
next chapter of her spleen. She sagged and reached for him, but he
pushed her away and rose to his feet, as if that had been the
signal. Gripping her arm to steady her and hold her away, he
scanned the chamber.