wasn’t ready to sit up, though.
“That thing was a highly modified naval recon drone. Cyborged, if that’s the right word, with components from the local ecosystem. Somebody’s spent a lot of time over the years.”
“Somebody’s had a lot of time,” I managed. Then:
“Bury Beaumont, will you? Please?”
They exchanged glances.
Cordel came to me at last, trailed by Heminge with his pistol still in his hand and Fishman wearing a truculent expression. The ancient Lieutenant seemed to be so much furniture to his superior officer, but even I could see that when his eyes turned toward her, that thousand-kilometer stare came into bright focus.
I knew how he felt.
“I am sorry about your man,” she said.
“I’m too tired to fence.” My voice was quiet and slow. Marley and Deckard had propped me up against a rock, for the sake of my dignity. I had refused to be moved back to the ship until after I’d met Cordel, here, on open ground. The spider-thing still smoked nearby, evidence of someone’s perfidy, and the pulsing sunlight seemed a better choice to me than the oily aired, whispering corridors of Six Degrees . “So I will simply ask, on your life, ma’am. What has become of the biologicals Broken Spear was carrying in the captain’s safe?”
Her puzzlement was genuine, as best as I could tell. “Biologicals? We carried no biologicals, Captain de Vere. Not beyond the standard cultures in our sick bay.”
“You’ve been here thirty years and Lehr never mentioned this?”
She folded her knees, bending down to speak to me at eye level. I could have watched her legs move, stork-scissors, for hours. And had she opened to me, a little, some sense of engagement in those gray eyes? In that moment, I was ashamed of the reek of my injuries. “Captain,” Cordel said. “I emptied the safe the one time Ray Gun landed on the surface. There was nothing of the kind, I assure you. How did you come to think we were carrying something like that?”
I turned her statements over in my head. Why was I sent to crack a world to cinders? “What is Broken Spear ’s terrible secret, then?”
“Ah,” she said, her face shuttering. “Perhaps you should speak to my captain once more.”
“He is too busy gazing at green fields beyond,” I muttered.
“Indeed.” She stood. “Fishman, gather this man up with all due gentleness and bring him to Lehr.”
Deckard and Marley stepped forward together to object, but Cordel turned her glare, now pure ice, upon them. “Granny Rail will not bother Fishman. Hands free, you two might be able to win through with your lives if we are attacked once more by her servants.”
And so we went, my head lolling back as I stared into the deepening colors of evening and tried to remember why I’d ever wanted to come to this world.
Approaching Lehr’s palace, Deckard and Heminge were attacked by another of the spider creatures. It lurched out of a stand of the crystalline growth, brushed past Marley and headed straight for the other two. I watched from my curious angle of repose in Fishman’s arms—I am not light at all, which gave me cause to wonder at the Lieutenant’s strength, especially at his advanced age—as Heminge snapped off a meson bolt that sheared two legs, while Deckard pumped flechettes into a high-stepping joint. Heminge’s second shot slagged the underslung central core, proving that the creatures’ advantage lay in surprise, which position they had now surrendered.
It was almost too easy, though I wondered why the attacker had not gone for Marley first. Perhaps because he carried no armament?
Then we swept through the curtains and into the hall of the blind king of this world. Lehr leaned forward on his throne, chin set upon his hand in an attitude of thoughtful repose. “Welcome, de Vere,” he said, staring toward our little party at a height somewhat above my own angled head.
So, the great man did not know I was being carried wounded to be laid
“That thing was a highly modified naval recon drone. Cyborged, if that’s the right word, with components from the local ecosystem. Somebody’s spent a lot of time over the years.”
“Somebody’s had a lot of time,” I managed. Then:
“Bury Beaumont, will you? Please?”
They exchanged glances.
Cordel came to me at last, trailed by Heminge with his pistol still in his hand and Fishman wearing a truculent expression. The ancient Lieutenant seemed to be so much furniture to his superior officer, but even I could see that when his eyes turned toward her, that thousand-kilometer stare came into bright focus.
I knew how he felt.
“I am sorry about your man,” she said.
“I’m too tired to fence.” My voice was quiet and slow. Marley and Deckard had propped me up against a rock, for the sake of my dignity. I had refused to be moved back to the ship until after I’d met Cordel, here, on open ground. The spider-thing still smoked nearby, evidence of someone’s perfidy, and the pulsing sunlight seemed a better choice to me than the oily aired, whispering corridors of Six Degrees . “So I will simply ask, on your life, ma’am. What has become of the biologicals Broken Spear was carrying in the captain’s safe?”
Her puzzlement was genuine, as best as I could tell. “Biologicals? We carried no biologicals, Captain de Vere. Not beyond the standard cultures in our sick bay.”
“You’ve been here thirty years and Lehr never mentioned this?”
She folded her knees, bending down to speak to me at eye level. I could have watched her legs move, stork-scissors, for hours. And had she opened to me, a little, some sense of engagement in those gray eyes? In that moment, I was ashamed of the reek of my injuries. “Captain,” Cordel said. “I emptied the safe the one time Ray Gun landed on the surface. There was nothing of the kind, I assure you. How did you come to think we were carrying something like that?”
I turned her statements over in my head. Why was I sent to crack a world to cinders? “What is Broken Spear ’s terrible secret, then?”
“Ah,” she said, her face shuttering. “Perhaps you should speak to my captain once more.”
“He is too busy gazing at green fields beyond,” I muttered.
“Indeed.” She stood. “Fishman, gather this man up with all due gentleness and bring him to Lehr.”
Deckard and Marley stepped forward together to object, but Cordel turned her glare, now pure ice, upon them. “Granny Rail will not bother Fishman. Hands free, you two might be able to win through with your lives if we are attacked once more by her servants.”
And so we went, my head lolling back as I stared into the deepening colors of evening and tried to remember why I’d ever wanted to come to this world.
Approaching Lehr’s palace, Deckard and Heminge were attacked by another of the spider creatures. It lurched out of a stand of the crystalline growth, brushed past Marley and headed straight for the other two. I watched from my curious angle of repose in Fishman’s arms—I am not light at all, which gave me cause to wonder at the Lieutenant’s strength, especially at his advanced age—as Heminge snapped off a meson bolt that sheared two legs, while Deckard pumped flechettes into a high-stepping joint. Heminge’s second shot slagged the underslung central core, proving that the creatures’ advantage lay in surprise, which position they had now surrendered.
It was almost too easy, though I wondered why the attacker had not gone for Marley first. Perhaps because he carried no armament?
Then we swept through the curtains and into the hall of the blind king of this world. Lehr leaned forward on his throne, chin set upon his hand in an attitude of thoughtful repose. “Welcome, de Vere,” he said, staring toward our little party at a height somewhat above my own angled head.
So, the great man did not know I was being carried wounded to be laid
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