Read Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain Online
Authors: A. Lee Martinez
Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain (13 page)
Zala’s system, being less efficient than Snarg’s, took three more hours to get over the effects of the gas. She lost most of her energy after an hour of banging against the walls of her cell and spent the next two sitting in the corner, snorting and glaring.
I used the time to analyze a vapor sample and the delivery device. The design was simple. The gas triggered aggression while the device had a psionic transmitter that implanted an image of the target. It wasn’t very subtle, but it didn’t really need to be.
The lab door opened and Gorvud, the Saturnite security officer, entered.
“Your Venusian bodyguard is asking for you,” he said.
“All better now?” I asked.
“She can say more than ‘Kill Mollusk’ if that’s what you mean, sir.”
I took a few minutes to reassemble the aggression catalyzer.
“Can I ask you something, Gorvud?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t hold it against me. What I did to Saturn?”
Gorvud’s face remained as inscrutable as the rock it was made of.
“You can answer the question honestly,” I said. “Without fear of reprisal.”
“It’s not that, sir.” He frowned. “It’s just…I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“Intriguing.”
“What you did to Saturn was horrible. Sir.”
“Agreed.”
“But you didn’t start the war. And war is brutal business. I can hardly criticize you for defending yourself. My own ethics aside, you won. And it would be hypocritical to cite your own atrocities while ignoring the horrors of my own side. If we’d seized control of Terra, we would’ve plundered her resources, enslaved her people. Just because we didn’t get the chance to do so doesn’t change the fact that we would have. A bit silly to claim the moral high ground on this one.”
“The boulder at the top of the hill is one good push away from the bottom,” I said.
“Precisely, sir.”
I screwed together the two halves of the device. “But you did save my life, Gorvud.”
“Well, that is my job.”
“So it didn’t occur to you for one moment to let my ultrapede eat me?”
“I can’t say that it did, sir. Afterward, yes, but at the moment, I was on duty.”
“I admire your work ethic, Gorvud.”
“Thank you, sir.” He grinned. “But I’ll admit that if I’d been off the clock, things might have been different.”
I grinned back. “Fair enough.”
I held up the sphere.
“You missed a piece.” Gorvud pointed to a single part, a disc the size of a quarter.
“No, I didn’t. It doesn’t serve any internal purpose.”
“Then why was it in there?”
“An excellent question.” I tucked the disc into one of my exo’s storage compartments. “One that we’ll have to save for later.”
Gorvud escorted me to the medical suite where Zala was being treated and then excused himself to check on his team. They hadn’t been seriously injured, but even a casual backhand from a regressed Jupitorn was going to cause some bruising.
Zala was strapped down in a bed. She snarled at me when I entered. The vitals monitors beeped insistently with my arrival.
“We’re having regression,” said the Lunan doctor. “Prepare the sedative.”
Zala scowled. “Emperor, if you allow them to inject me with anything, you’ll wish I had killed you.”
“She’s fine,” I said. “You can release her.”
“Are you certain, Lord Mollusk?” asked the doctor. “We’re getting elevated levels of activity in both her primary and secondary adrenal glands.”
“That’s as calm as she gets while I’m around,” I said.
The medical staff undid the straps and began treating her injuries.
“Don’t worry,” said the doctor. “We have the finest medical facilities here. You should be good as new in another hour.”
Wincing, Zala sat up. “What happened?”
“You tried to kill me,” I said. “We’ll attribute your failure up to the catalyzer’s negative impact on your fighting skills, if that makes you feel better.”
“You had to open that box, didn’t you?”
“And you had to stay by my side while I did it, didn’t you?”
“I’m here to protect you from yourself, Emperor.”
“And a terrific job you did of it too. Except for the trying-to-kill-me part. But nobody’s perfect.”
Zala pushed away a nurse and tried to stand.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” said the doctor. “You have severely sprained both ankles as well as your right knee.”
She grunted, testing the weight on her ankles.
The doctor scratched her furry head. “Amazing. I can’t believe you’re able to stand.”
Zala laughed. “This is nothing. I once fought a razortail trukyut while recovering from three broken ribs, a lacerated aorta, and the vor lung pox.”
“And we’re all very impressed,” I said, “but if you’re to be any good to me at all, you should let the doctors patch you up. If I have to look after you, then it defeats the purpose of having a bodyguard, doesn’t it?”
She knew I was right, though she didn’t admit it aloud. But sat back in the bed. When the doctor approached her with an injector, Zala asked, “What’s that?”
“An all-in-one pick-me-up,” I said. “Designed specifically with your biology and injuries in mind. It’s really quite something. You’ll be on your feet in no time.”
She said, “That’s all?”
“That’s all,” I replied.
“It won’t have any side effects?”
The doctor said, “They’ll be some incidental stiffness. And the acceleration to your metabolism might mean a marked increase in appetite along with dry mouth and possibly trouble sleeping for a day or two.”
“And that’s all?” repeated Zala.
I said, “Oh, and there’s also a nanite that will attach itself to your aorta and self-destruct upon my command.”
She glowered.
I chuckled. “Really, Zala, when will you trust me?”
Her blank expression answered the question, but she allowed the injection. While we waited for the serum to do its work, Zala lay in her bed.
“Where’s Kreegah?” she asked.
“He’ll be asleep for a while. At least a week. Possibly more. I sprayed him with the concentrated extract of the striped tulip. Harmless to most life-forms, but a powerful sedative to a Jupitorn. It’s usually fatal in the wild as the tulip sucks out its victim’s juices. But in this environment, it’ll just be a refreshing nap, followed by a moonslug-watching tour as my way of apologizing.”
“And you just happened to have that sedative at the ready.”
“It pays to be prepared,” I said. “It wouldn’t make much sense to bring a powerhouse like Kreegah along without taking precautions.”
“And what about me?” she asked. “Do you have precautions to deal with me, should it come up? Or am I not privy to that information?”
“You’re easy. I’ll just kill you when I have to.”
“Good plan,” she said. “Although shouldn’t that be
if
you have to kill me?”
“I think we both know where our current leads, Zala, and neither of us seem very interested in swimming against it.”
We shared a knowing smile.
“But you didn’t kill me this time.”
“It wasn’t necessary. This time.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t about to allow the Brain to deprive me of an asset. You’re just the right ratio of usefulness to expendability that makes you so handy to keep around.”
“I’m touched, Emperor. Truly, I am. So did you design the gas bomb?” she asked.
“It possesses certain design elements that I’m partial to,” I said, “but it’s not something I’ve done much research on. It seems to use some very simple research as a jumping-off point, but it’s mostly an original design.”
“Do you know what that means? The Brain is getting smarter. At first, he was merely aping your scientific malevolence. But how long will it be before he is taking it in his own twisted directions?”
“You sound like you’re more worried about him than me.”
She smiled ruefully. “As much as it pains me to admit this, Emperor”—Zala winced as she shifted in place—“you have always been bound by a certain bizarre sense of fair play. There are things you’ve done that are insane and homicidal, but you can usually be expected to follow a code of conduct. You’ve never been enamored of needless destruction. And while you are ruthless in achieving your goals, given the choice, you will still usually seek the subtler path in reaching them.”
She paused, but I didn’t respond.
“Do you disagree?” she asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it before,” I replied.
She laughed and then bit her lip as a pain ran through her side.
“It’s amazing that someone who claims to be as intelligent as you are has spent more time designing doomsday machines and time radios than contemplating his own motivations. Don’t misunderstand me. You are still a menace to the civilized universe. In the grand scheme, your methods make you far more dangerous than the Brain. But in the short term, the Brain is likely to do something even you wouldn’t imagine doing. Who knows what possible irreversible damage he could do in a moment of ambitious stupidity?”
“Wait. Are you saying he’s smarter or stupider than me?” I asked.
“I’m saying he’s both. He’s already nearly destroyed this planet using your research. And if the idea of your science in the hands of someone unfettered by even your flawed ethics doesn’t frighten you, then you’re not as bright as you think you are.”
I pondered the various technologies I’d unlocked in my studies. Thousands of devices and ideas that could devastate a city, a country, a planet, the system. A handful that could endanger the entire universe. It was perhaps a bit foolish of me to have laid the groundwork for the star smasher or the penultimate nullifier, even if only as intellectual amusements. Perhaps even more foolish to put them down on paper at all. But it was my nature.
I’d convinced myself that all the truly dangerous ideas were only ideas. The half-rendered musings of a superior intellect. Unfinished and unlikely to lead anywhere. But they didn’t have to work exactly as expected to do immeasurable damage.
I was on the other side of this evil genius scenario. I didn’t like it.
“What do we do next?” asked Zala.
“I’m surprised you haven’t suggested going into hiding yet again.”
“Your arrogance has unleashed this maniacal would-be conqueror on the system, but you may be the only one who can stop him before he does something terrible. For the sake of my precious homeworld and every other planet in the system, my personal desire to bring you to justice must become secondary to that.”
“This is more serious than I imagined,” I said.
“It’s every bit as serious as you know it to be, Emperor. And that’s why I know you have some sort of plan formulating already.”
I handed her the small disc.
“A holograph disc? That’s a bit dated, isn’t it?” She turned it in the light, showing the almost imperceptible indentations in its sides. “This one doesn’t look to have much data on it.”
“I haven’t read it yet, but I’m guessing it’s a simple message. I found it in the catalyzer.”
“The same device that nearly drove me to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess. Another secret message from your mysterious inside agent? The very same mysterious agent who led us into a trap in the first place.”
“No, the decoded message on Dinosaur Island was obviously planted there by the Brain.”
Zala sat up. The serum must’ve been working.
“If the Brain laid one false trail, what makes you think he didn’t just lay another for you?”
“An educated guess. The Brain probably wouldn’t expect me to follow a second clue after giving me a false one.”
“So your reasoning is that he wouldn’t bother dropping a second false clue after giving you the first one? Because he wouldn’t believe you’d follow it. Except that he has access to knowledge from the future and already knows everything you’re going to do before you do it anyway. How can you possibly do anything he doesn’t expect?”
“It’s not as if the anti-time radio gave him a minute-by-minute recount of how things would unfold. He’s like a starship navigating with an incomplete chart with certain events marking the way while trusting there won’t be an exploding supernova found in the blank spaces.”
I could see she was unconvinced, but she shrugged. “Fine. I’ll pretend like I understand that.”
Again, I was surprised. “You don’t want to argue some more about it?”
“Why? It’s not as if I have any suggestions myself. Even if I did, you’d just dismiss them. So let’s skip the debate and get on with it.”
“Very sensible,” I said.
Half sneering, half smiling, she gave me back the disc. “Just decrypt the damn thing already.”
The war against the Saturnites had not been going as well as I hoped.
The pointed Saturnite spacecrafts were not the most powerful craft in the system, but they were cheap, efficient, and expendable. Saturnite tactics were usually limited to overwhelming force, and an endless swarm of disposable fighter craft had won them many a war against more nuanced opponents.
If that didn’t work, they would bring out the
Glorious Triumph
, the flagship of their fleet. The functional rectangular craft was little more than a flying weapons platform. Cannons and missiles and blasters and ballistic meteor guns and moon-melting heat rays were mounted on every inch of the thing. The craft had three separate doomsday weapons aboard her, including the dreaded System Killer, a bomb so powerful it could destroy all nine planets with the push of a button. Or so the Saturnites claimed.
Given their love of firepower, few doubted it existed.
The debate over the bomb’s plausibility was usually a secondary concern, considering that even without it the
Triumph
could ruin a planet in a few minutes. Saturnites had won wars just by mentioning the
Triumph
in casual conversation.
And after three months of war with the Saturnites, the
Triumph
orbited Terra, a technological god of death and destruction.
My saucer and its automated fighter escort approached the flagship. A small fleet of Saturnite craft encircled us. It would have been simple enough for the enemy to blast me, but what would have been the fun in that? The Saturnites were here to watch me grovel.
I landed in the
Triumph
’s only docking bay. Barely big enough for a dozen ships. Anything larger would’ve required removing one of the countless starboard polar de-atomizers.
I exited the ship. The Saturnite Warmaster General himself greeted me. Along with an attachment of imperial guards. The Warmaster measured nine feet tall with a turquoise complexion. Medals covered his dress uniform, and he stood with his arms folded behind his back and a glint in his obsidian eyes.
He smirked. “You’re Warlord Mollusk?”
“I brought my Conqueror model exo. It’s very tall and shiny with gratuitous spikes. But it just seems like so much glitter. Are we here to pose or to negotiate the terms of surrender?”
The Warmaster nodded. “I see that you’re very direct. I can respect that. Did you bring any security?”
“I have a few robots aboard my ship, but they won’t be necessary.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d be so relaxed about this.”
“It’s not personal,” I replied. “Just two civilizations hammering out a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
We were shuttled to a meeting room. I didn’t question why the room was so far from the craft’s only landing bay. The
Triumph
wasn’t a diplomacy ship, and Saturnites weren’t a diplomatic people. Even their meeting room was a small gray chamber with a table and a few chairs. There was a viewscreen with an image of Terra. It was a very small screen, no doubt there to remind me how tiny my world was in comparison to the vast Saturnite war machine.
“I’d offer you a tour, Mollusk,” said the Warmaster, “but of course, the inner workings of the
Triumph
are a classified military secret.”
“Yes, it’s a very fine giant space gun you have here. Very intimidating. Very frightening. Impressive, if a bit conventional. But it does get the job done.”
The Warmaster scoffed, which was difficult for a Saturnite to do, given his craggy stone face. “The
Triumph
is the greatest weapon the system has ever known. The bloodsucking fiends of Dread Planet V took one look at this ship, and rerouted their fleet into a black hole rather than face her in battle. Even you, the great and feared Warlord of Terra, Emperor Mollusk…” He stifled a chuckle. Or pretended to stifle it. “…trembles at her mere arrival and gave up your senseless fight against us.”
“Oh, I think there’s been a miscommunication. I’m not here to offer my surrender. I’m here to negotiate the conditions of yours.”
The Warmaster and his guards laughed.
“Emperor…if I may call you Emperor…”
I nodded.
“Emperor, you’ve put up a hell of a fight for this little world of yours. Given your resources, the limits of the Terran population and technology, you’ve managed the impossible. You’ve forestalled the inevitable. And we salute you as a worthy opponent.”
They slapped their right shoulders with their left hands. The Saturnites had an elaborate system of salutes. The right shoulder slap was reserved for respected enemies. Though I was a touch insulted I hadn’t been given the double-chest thump offered to feared adversaries. But that was a bit ambitious, even for me.
“Our intelligence reports that you are stretched to your limit, Emperor. You could still fight, of course. But we both know where that would go. More damage to the world, more Terran casualties. In the end, this war will still end the same.”
“There are those who say there’s nobility in fighting to the very end,” I replied.
“There’s nothing noble about fighting a war you’ve already lost. Not when your opponent is polite enough to offer you an alternative. Surrender now, and we will allow you to remain Warlord of Terra. We really don’t care about the Terran population. You can continue to rule over them as you wish.”
“And all you want in return is the right to take whatever you desire from the planet,” I said.
“We’ll leave you enough for your own needs.”
“And what about the Terrans?” I asked.
The Warmaster intertwined his fingers, deliberately rubbing his stone skin together to produce a grinding noise.
“What about them? You conquered them. We conquered you. By my calculations, that puts them two steps below my own concerns.”
“But not my own,” I said.
“Forgive me, but haven’t you programmed the Terrans to adore you, regardless of circumstances? If you tell them to do what we say, they’ll gladly do so, won’t they?”
“They’d cheerfully hand over their world with a word from me. They’d even throw you a parade, create an international holiday.”
“A pleasant thought,” said the Warmaster. “We’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“Here’s my counteroffer. You will agree to complete, unconditional surrender. You will withdraw your fleet and cease all hostilities.”
I leaned forward and imitated his pose. Even intertwined my delicate fingers through the sound of metal against metal wasn’t quite as intimidating.
“And in return, I won’t destroy Saturn.”
He smiled but didn’t quite laugh. “Your bravado is almost endearing.”
“I don’t do bravado,” I said. “And if you want to make this about who can twist the powers of science toward the better doomsday device, I’m afraid it’s a game you can’t win.”
“Am I expected to believe that you have a weapon capable of disabling the
Triumph
?”
“Oh no. I have something better.”
I overrode the small viewscreen, replacing its image of Terra with one of Saturn.
“I don’t have to defeat your giant space gun. I just have to defeat you.”
I pressed a blinking red button on my exo’s arm. There were easier ways to activate my weapon, but nothing quite so dramatic. I was here to make a point.
Nothing happened.
“You’ll have to give it a few minutes,” I said. “The de-gravitators probably need to warm up.”
The Warmaster said, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“I’d think it would be obvious,” I said. “I’m about to scatter your world across the system as so much cosmic dust.”
He marched over to me. “You dare threaten Saturn.”
“I didn’t know that was against the rules.”
His hands balled into fists indistinguishable from boulders.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said. “If you kill me, the process will be irreversible. Within minutes, Saturn will disintegrate. Four minutes, by my calculations.”
The Warmaster waved his hand with a chuckle. “You’re bluffing, Emperor. You know that if anything were to happen to my world, I’d have no choice but to order the destruction of Terra.”
“Mutually assured destruction,” I said. “It’s not ideal, but it is functional.”
I pointed to the slight wobble in Saturn’s ring formations.
“Of course, this is built upon the assumption that your giant space gun actually works.”
“What are you implying, Neptunon?”
“Oh, nothing. Only that I’ve never found any records of the
Glorious Triumph
engaging in battle. Outside of a single demonstration on one of your own moons, Mimas, I can’t find any record of her even firing. Rather a small moon, wasn’t it?”
My exo beeped. Again, unnecessary but useful for demonstration purposes.
“At this stage, the atmosphere will begin to disperse.” I zoomed the view for a better look. “Observe the funnel effects on the poles. A peculiar phenomenon. Rather beautiful though a bit inconvenient for those on the planet itself.”
I took a seat.
“I can stop this at any time. It’s up to you.”
The Warmaster pounded his fist into the table, breaking it in two. “This isn’t war. It’s genocide. These aren’t even your own people you’re defending.”
“Does it make any difference?” I asked. “The Terrans are my responsibility.”
“And Saturn is mine!”
“Then do what you have to,” I said. “Surrender. In forty seconds, the process is irreversible. Your family, your friends, everyone you know and billions you don’t know will die. I expect a few million are already dead.”
“How can you be so cavalier about this?”
I wasn’t, but I had to appear to be. I had just killed millions and was possibly about to destroy billions more. And if Saturn perished, then the remaining Saturnite fleet would certainly take its wrath out on Terra below, leading to billions more deaths.
It was all just numbers. Statistically insignificant, really. A few million life-forms snuffed out with the push of a button. It didn’t feel like that anymore. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t science. It was just ugly, indiscriminate death.
Everything I’d ever done had inevitably led to this moment, and in another, I would discover where it would end. I was already a monster. How great a monster was yet to be determined.
My exo beeped. “There’s nothing noble about fighting a war you’ve already lost. Not when your opponent is polite enough to offer you an alternative. Fifteen seconds, Warmaster.”
The countdown beeped with each passing second. The Warmaster wrestled with his pride. I pondered the lives of untold trillions of life-forms being decided by the actions of two beings sitting in a gray conference chamber.
With only three seconds to spare, the Warmaster, his small black eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, grunted.
“We surrender.”
I pushed the button.
The Warmaster slumped in his chair. A great and powerful general, now rendered impotent. “What are your demands?”
“The viewscreen doesn’t show the cities in chaos, the floods, the aftermath of quakes. And you’ll have to contend with disrupted weather patterns, a shattered biosphere, and inevitable and disastrous tectonic shifts. Saturn will survive, but it will be many long years of struggle ahead of your people. Go home, Warmaster. Rebuild. But above all, stay away from my world.”
He said nothing, but one of the guards stepped forward.
“That’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I asked.
I left the
Glorious Triumph
without incident, but I didn’t leave alone.
Its ghosts would be with me a long, long time.