Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain (11 page)

Relations between Terra and Luna had been strained since the Lunans had eaten Neil Armstrong in 1960. Diplomacy remained stalled even after the Terrans established their first moonbase. It was no doubt the never-back-down attitude of the Terrans (not to mention their irresistible deliciousness) and the bite first, ask questions later policy of the Lunans, which were the heart of the problem. Life on Luna had been hectic and unpleasant for everyone with the arrival of the Terrans.

I’d fixed all that. I’d updated the Terrans’ primitive space technology and given their moon a light atmosphere. Nothing too showy. Just enough air to make it convenient. There wasn’t much on Luna for Terrans to see, but they still enjoyed coming to see it. Since time immemorial, the Terrans had dreamt of reaching their moon and when they discovered there weren’t many wonders there (aside from the four great Lunan pyramids and the Horrible Shothog slumbering in its subterranean depths) they went ahead and created their own wonders. More of that never-say-die spirit I enjoyed so much about them. Tourism was Luna’s number one industry, with amusement parks, spas, and all-inclusive resorts. Moonbase One had grown from a struggling colony to a thriving resort town.

Kreegah stared at Terra below as we left the atmosphere. “It’s so small.”

“Yes, it is,” I said.

“The computer told me the universe was big, but it’s different to actually see it.”

“Seeing it isn’t the best way to comprehend its size,” I said. “I find graphs demonstrate it best. I have a pie chart that shows just how vast and indifferent the universe is.”

“Maybe we’ll take a look at it later,” said Zala. With Kreegah now with us, she had less room in the cockpit, and she wasn’t happy about it. But I couldn’t make him stay below and miss the view.

We shot toward Luna, but I took our time, allowing Kreegah to enjoy the journey.

“You still haven’t told me why we’re here,” said Zala.

“I didn’t think it was vital for you to know.”

“Maybe I want to know.”

“You’ll just find it uninteresting.”

She folded her arms, leaned back in her chair. “Maybe you should let me decide that.”

I displayed a line chart on the viewscreen closest to her. She studied it for a few moments before giving up.

“What am I looking at?”

“It’s the gravimetric readings from Dinosaur Island. Specifically, the distortions caused by the anti-time radio.”

She glanced at the chart again. It wasn’t fair of me to throw it at her. A lack of education, not stupidity, kept her from understanding the data. But she took such pleasure from mocking my intelligence, I couldn’t help occasionally irking her with it.

“The variance is within expected parameters.” I highlighted a single line among many. “Except for this reading here.”

Zala slouched. “Uh-hmm.”

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

She straightened and forced the glaze out of her eyes. “Not at all.”

“This reading doesn’t belong. It’s almost like the anti-time radio was designed to generate the signal in the background, unnoticed. An analysis found that the variation matches the frequency profile of the extinct Neptunon great speckled porpoise.”

“Okay, you were right.” Her tail went limp. “I don’t care.”

“Too late. Once I get started, I like to finish. From there, it was a simple matter of translating the signal into binary code and then converting that binary code into a set of standard universal coordinates.”

“And those coordinates lead to Terra’s moon,” she said.

I smiled. “Nice to see you’re paying attention. It translates to a specific address and suite number.”

Zala pointed to the screen. “Assuming you’re right, who put the signal there for you to find? Someone had to put it there, right?”

“I would assume so. Unless I’m reading too much into it. It’s not impossible I imagined the pattern.”

“Assuming you haven’t,” she said, “then who put it there?”

“An excellent question. If we’re going to keep building on assumptions, which is dangerous but necessary at this point, then someone has managed to compromise the Brain’s security and plant a clue for me to follow.”

She traced the line on the screen as she mulled it over. “And who would that be?”

“I’d rather not venture a guess on that just yet.”

“There’s another possibility, Emperor. The signal was deliberately planted by the Brain, just like the Atlantese assassins and the slime beast, to lead you on a merry path of distraction.”

“If you’re right,” I asked, “what do you recommend we do instead?”

She said, “We should investigate.”

I smiled.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m just surprised you didn’t suggest going into hiding,” I replied.

“If you’re right about this Brain, hiding wouldn’t do any good. Charging into a battle you are destined to lose is still better than retreating from a battle you might win.”

I docked my saucer in my private hangar. A crew of Lunans greeted us upon disembarkment. Lunans came in two sizes. Very, very small and very, very big. The females stood ten feet high, had shaggy gray fur and anywhere from three to seven limbs. The arrangement of arms and legs varied by individual.

The males of the species were barely ten inches. Their fur was shorter because when cold, they would simply hop on the nearest female for warmth. They always had two arms, and they rolled and jumped everywhere.

A Lunan female with three legs and three arms shambled toward me.

“Hello, Blug,” I said.

“Lord Mollusk.” The round, lipless mouth of the species made speaking difficult for some, though she managed to be fluent, aside from a touch of spit with every
S
. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

The males hopped around Snarg while squeaking and chirping. They scampered up her long back and groomed loose bits of dirt and fuzz collected in the crevices of her exoskeleton.

“Your standing suite is ready, should you need it,” said Blug.

“It’s not an extended visit,” I replied. “Business, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, unfortunate to hear. It’s the height of moonslug-watching season.”

I explained, “The males use their phosphorescent slime trails to create miles-long patterns on the dark side of Luna. The designs are based on symplectic geometry. I haven’t quite figured out if they do it on purpose or if it’s pure instinct, but either way, it’s very beautiful. Next time you’re on Luna, you should book a tour.”

“I’ll do that,” said Zala neutrally.

“I’ll stay by your side, Emperor,” added Kreegah.

“If not the moonslugs, then what brings you here, Lord Mollusk?” asked Blug.

“Private business, I’m afraid,” I said. “Can’t really talk about it. I’ll need transport to the business sector. And I want a gamma-level security squad on standby.”

She nodded, which for a Lunan involved a general bob of the entire body. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

We passed Terran tourists going through customs. Several of the children waved to me, and I waved back.

“Doesn’t it bother you, Emperor?” said Zala. “What you’ve done to them?”

“I don’t see why that should matter,” I replied.

“No one likes you. Not really.”

“Blug likes me,” I said. “Isn’t that right, Blug?”

“Yes, Lord Mollusk, but you are very likable.”

“She’s an employee,” said Zala. “She hardly counts.”

“Kreegah likes me,” I said. “Snarg likes me.”

The ultrapede chirped.

“Very well. Kreegah and the insect do indeed like you,” agreed Zala. “But in every other way, you’re alone. An outcast among your people, a criminal in the rest of the system. Even the Terrans only accept you because you control them.”

“I find myself less concerned with the method than the result.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know the difference, Emperor,” Zala said. “I’m beginning to understand you. You aren’t as cold and ruthless as you would appear. You care about these Terrans.”

I said nothing.

Zala chuckled. “Did I just render you speechless?”

“It’s true,” I said. “Why bother denying it?”

“I wonder why though. Why of all the worlds you’ve attempted to conquer, of all the crimes you’ve committed without hesitation, that this is the one that you finally care about? I see nothing wrong with the Terrans, but not much special about them.”

She paused, waiting for me to answer. I remained silent. It was only after Zala and I were in the back of a limousine, cruising on its way, that I finally answered her.

“They need me.”

She shook her head. “You said it yourself. The Terrans can take care of themselves.”

“They could,” I replied. “But then I came along and rendered them passive. I didn’t count on the absolute success of the process. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the Terrans and their adoration, artificial or not. But there’s a problem that comes after you’ve conquered a planet.”

“And what problem is that?” asked Zala.

“What do you do with it?”

“But surely you must have thought about that beforehand.”

“Actually, I can’t say that I did.”

“But all the crimes you’ve committed, all the plotting and scheming, the enemies you’ve made, the damage you’ve caused. You expect me to believe it was just a mental exercise. Some sort of twisted game?”

“Have I mentioned I get bored easily?” I said. “Conquering a planet seemed like a good way to kill the time.”

“Your crimes against Venus, against the entire system, were nothing but the by-product of boredom?”

“When you put it that way, you make it sound rather childish.”

Zala’s mouth tightened. Her nostrils flared. Her tail thumped against the seat.

“And now that you’ve conquered the Terrans, you’re bored again.”

“A bit,” I replied. “Although I find myself in a difficult position. I have wealth, power, and unlimited resources at my disposal. It’s more than I could ask for. But without limitations, how does one find satisfaction?”

“You could always turn your intellect toward the betterment of the system,” she said.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? Who would trust me at this point? And I’ve never been very good at constraining my scientific pursuits. I’ve tried, but I just can’t help myself. And you’ve seen what happens when my research falls into the wrong hands.”

“And of course you can’t destroy it,” she said sarcastically.

“Of course not. We’ve already covered that.”

Her lip twitched. Her scales darkened. “You could always conquer another planet.”

“I did consider that. But if claiming one world didn’t satisfy me, I doubt two will. And Terra keeps me busy enough.”

Zala said, “According to Venusian intelligence, at least half of the threats you protect Terra from are a by-product of your own activities. Our current adversary, for example.”

“I’ve had a few experiments get out of my control from time to time. But I’ve kept them from doing too much damage.”

“So far,” she said.

The limo arrived at our first destination. The small home sat in a block of quaint cottages. There was a flourishing time-share industry along the Sea of Tranquility.

I had Blug and Kreegah stay with the limo.

Zala and I approached the front door. She drew her gun.

“You won’t need that. This is only some personal business I thought I’d get out of the way since we’re on Luna anyway. It shouldn’t take long.”

I knocked. A pudgy little Terra Sapien with a bushy mustache and a sloppy haircut opened it. He adjusted his glasses.

He grinned. “Emperor Mollusk, you old son of a nautilus, what brings you by?”

“Business, I’m afraid.”

“Business business?”

“Business business,” I confirmed.

He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and blew his nose. “Then come in, come in, by all means.”

He showed us to the study. There wasn’t much to it. A desk crowded with papers, a data bank, and a liquor cabinet.

“I know that Emperor doesn’t drink,” he said to Zala, “but can I offer you something? I have a fine selection of Venusian brandies. They play havoc with my intestinal tract, but I do love them.”

“No, thank you.” She went to the window and pulled the shades.

“Don’t mind her,” I said. “She’s just paranoid.”

“Don’t mind him,” she said. “He’s just overconfident.”

The Terran poured himself a drink and sat at the desk. He took a long drink, blew out a breath, and rubbed his round chin. “So I take this has something to do with the Celebrants.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Zala said, “What does he know about the Celebrants of Oblivion?”

“He’s well versed in their affairs.”

“Are you a scholar?”

“The Celebrants have no official history,” he replied. “You don’t remain a mystery by leaving records behind.”

“Then how would you know anything about them?”

He took a sip and ran his fingers along the edge. “I’m privy to certain oral traditions among the Celebrants.”

“How would you become privy to the cult?”

He smiled slightly. “We don’t like to use that word. We find it…insulting to our calling.”

She took in the short, round man in the off-the-rack suit and bright yellow tie. Her skepticism was obvious and not entirely misplaced.