Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain (7 page)

“If you don’t put it down, you’ll never get a chance to find out.”

The next boulder flew inches from her head and shattered a thick tree trunk into splinters.

“There won’t be another warning,” I said.

Reluctantly, she lowered the rifle.

The jungle parted and twelve-foot-tall reptilian primates with sails running down their backs emerged into view. The creatures surrounded us.

“What are they?” she asked.

“At some point, they had been dimetrodons, but several generations of mutation have transformed them into hulking primates with a cunning higher animal intelligence. I call them primadons. Interestingly enough,” I added, “dimetrodons are often thought of as dinosaurs by your average Terran, though in fact they are more closely related to mammals than reptiles and fall under the category of pelycosaurs.”

“I don’t find that very interesting,” she said.

“Not a fan of terrestrial paleontology, I take it.”

The alpha of the primadons, a great brute with a scarred body, pounded the earth with his fists and roared.

“What are they going to do with us?” whispered Zala.

“It remains to be seen, but they’re carnivorous, so they’re probably planning on eating you. They’ll probably just smash me to pieces and, if they notice, lick up the pulped remains.”

Her rifle hummed as she upped the damage setting.

“You’ll only end up annoying them.”

“A true warrior does not slide willingly down her opponent’s gullet.”

The alpha leaned forward and sniffed Snarg. She snipped his nose, and he jumped back with a fearsome howl. The primadons responded with their own dreadful cacophony, and no doubt every edible creature within a thousand yards was already running in the opposite direction.

“We’ll have to risk flying to escape.”

“I don’t like being carried from battle like some helpless child,” she replied with a snarl.

“Fine with me. I don’t need to take you with me.”

The dance of the primadons reached a fevered pitch. They punched and grappled with each other for the right to the first bite, and there wouldn’t be a better opportunity. I seized her and rocketed upward. But the alpha, alert predator that he was, had other plans. He threw something. I didn’t know what it was, but it was big and heavy and had enough force to cause me to spin around, smash through the trees, and come crashing to the ground.

I lost track of everything. My senses only cleared enough to see the hazy outline of the creature preparing to bash me into oblivion.

Then I heard the long, terrifying howl that filled every monster on the island with fear. A figure bounded from out of nowhere and put himself between the beast and me.

My squat and bulky rescuer stood barely five feet tall. His carapace was a rainbow of scarlet and blue. He had a knife sheathed at his side, but he didn’t pull it. It wasn’t necessary.

The savage raised his head and howled, beating his chest with his fists, a throbbing rhythm that warned of his arrival. The primadons retreated. All except the alpha, who bull-rushed his opponent. Faster than the eye could follow, the savage wrestled with the alpha, turning and twisting and with a fluid motion, slamming the great beast to the jungle floor. The alpha shrieked his surrender, but the savage didn’t let up until he heard the snap of bone.

He released the alpha, who growled at us one last time before loping mildly into the jungle along with the rest of the tribe.

The savage helped me to my feet.

“How goes it, Emperor?”

“Could be better,” I replied. “Glad you could make it.”

The savage didn’t smile. It wasn’t in his nature. He clasped me on the shoulder and nodded. “You’ll have to forgive my people. They are rarely gracious hosts.”

Zala stumbled into view.

“Good of you to join us,” I said. “May I introduce Kreegah the Merciless. My man on the inside.”

With Kreegah and Snarg escorting us through the jungle, the journey was much smoother. The diminutive but powerful Jupitorn spoke rarely. His trained senses focused on the environment, scanning for any threat.

“I would have been here sooner,” he said, “but I was closer to the other skyship.”

“Did you find my battleguard?” asked Zala.

“I found some people. They looked like you. Several were dead.”

“But not all?”

“No, there were still living among them. I told them to stay where they were until I could come back for them. They had weapons. If they wait for me, they should be fine.”

Kreegah tilted his head at Zala. He blinked his large blue eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Zala shrugged. “No, but couldn’t you have brought them with you?”

“They were too slow. If I’d waited for them, you would be dead by now.”

He sniffed the air. He sprang through the canopy and disappeared. We waited for his return.

“How did a Jupitorn end up here?” asked Zala.

“It’s difficult to know for sure,” I replied. “I’ve seen the ship that brought him here. A pleasurecraft. It must have had drive problems. Possibly the gravity well caught them unaware. Wrong place, wrong time. Whatever the reason, the craft crashed onto Dinosaur Island roughly forty years ago. All the passengers must have been killed upon impact or fallen victim to the jungle. Except for one hatchling, adopted by a primadon female and raised as her own. Even then, he would’ve died if not for his superior strength and adaptability.”

“I’ve never seen one with such a fully developed carapace.”

“My guess is that the island’s radiation triggered dormant genes while still in the egg.”

“And he lives here?”

Kreegah dropped behind us, landing with barely a rustle. Zala jumped. She did her best to hide it.

“Where else would I live?”

Before she could answer the question, he held up his hand.

“You should be quiet now.”

Something thumped through the underbrush. It had the throaty respiration of a full-grown stegosauroid, a dim-witted but easily startled beast, but when it shrieked, it sounded more like a siamotyrannus. We didn’t see it, and it passed without noticing us.

We made it to Kreegah’s home just as night was falling. It was never dark on the island, only an emerald twilight. The flora glimmered with faint light visible when the sun went down, and the radioactive sky shimmered.

He lived in a small mountain. In the dim green glow, it was difficult to spot the shape of a Jupitorn pleasurecraft covered in moss and vines. Kreegah rolled a moss-covered boulder from an old airlock.

He said, “Wait in here. If your friends are still alive, I’ll bring them back.”

After we were gone, he sealed the entrance.

“What if something happens to him?” asked Zala. “How are we supposed to get out of here?”

I ignored the question. Jupitorn craftsmanship meant the interior still had a few working lights. Kreegah had also taken to scattering luminescent grass on the floor. We moved down a corridor. There was a noticeable tilt in the floor, but nothing to slow us down. We reached the bridge, where the emergency lights cast a soft yellow glow that mixed with the green of the grass to cast sparkling emerald hues on the walls. Most of the consoles and terminals were broken. A few creeping vines and stubborn roots had pried cracks in the hull and a thin layer of dust covered everything. Bones of all shapes and sizes littered the floor, and judging by the way Zala winced, the place probably had quite an unpleasant odor. Sealed in my exo, I was spared that experience.

“He lives like an animal,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied. “I’d say he’s done very well for himself, all things considered.”

She sat in a chair, gently at first for fear of its snapping with decay. “He doesn’t belong here. You should take him home, Emperor.”

“I’ve offered. He’s not interested.”

“So we’re staying here for the night then?” she asked.

“You don’t want to be out in that jungle at night,” I said. “There are…things out there.”

“There were things out there earlier.”

“These are different things,” I replied. “Worse things.”

She passed the next hour checking and double-checking her weapons. When I suggested she take off her armor and make herself comfortable, she dismissed the notion. I amused myself studying a sample of grass.

“You can’t stop it, can you?” said Zala.

“Stop what?”

“Analyzing and studying and thinking. It’s a compulsion with you.”

I paused to note the energy yield of the sample. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“For you, it is. You’ve already probably managed to think of twelve ways to use that grass for some nefarious scheme.”

I laughed. “You flatter me, Zala. I’m not that good. It’s only six so far.” My exo beeped as it added more data. “Oh, seven.”

She pointed her rifle at me. “Wrath of my gods be damned, I should kill you right here.”

“And only five of these uses could be classified as
nefarious
,” I said. “The sixth and seventh are merely
morally dubious
.”

She lowered the weapon, placing it across her lap. Her eyes glinted, two pinpoints in the dark. Her scales caught the peculiar lights, and she almost glowed herself.

She continued to polish her gun until Kreegah returned. He had only three Venusians with him.

“Where are the rest?” she asked.

“Dead,” replied one of her soldiers. “Some were killed in the crash. The rest we lost when we ventured into the jungle to find you. We were able to fend off the creatures until night. Then something came out of nowhere and carried off several of the others.”

“I warned them,” said Kreegah.

“We were following protocol,” said the soldier.

“Protocol is for people without common sense,” I said softly to myself.

Zala glared. “We wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t led us into an ambush.”

“You’re free to abandon this misguided bodyguard mission anytime you want.”

There was a moment of silence. I couldn’t know what Zala was thinking, but I assumed it was something about honor or justice or some variation of them.

As for me, I wasn’t certain how I felt about the idea. I’d grown fond of Zala over the years. I didn’t have many friends, and while our relationship had always been tinged by a few past misunderstandings, there was something reassuring about having her around. In a chaotic equation, she was among the constants. It was nice to have something to rely on.

She gave her remaining battleguard permission to relax. They found places to sit and check their equipment. Like good soldiers. There was something comforting about that too. They were woefully underequipped for the threats of Dinosaur Island but were still determined to make the most of what they had. I enjoyed their optimism.

“We’ll be safe here until morning,” said Kreegah. “Care for something to eat?”

He bent down, grabbed an unidentifiable slab of raw meat, and presented it to us.

“I can’t eat Terran foodstuffs,” I replied.

“Oh, yes. I forgot about that. Perhaps the Venusians would like a piece?” He tore strips of flesh and offered it to each. They accepted.

Snarg eagerly swayed and clicked at Kreegah. He laughed and threw her a few pounds of rotting flesh. Squealing with delight, she skittered over to a corner to tear into her dinner.

Zala and her soldiers removed cylindrical devices from their belts. It hummed as they waved it under the meat.

“What’s that for?” asked Kreegah.

“It cooks and purifies,” she said.

He gave her a curious look. “Why would you do that?”

“To avoid contaminants, parasites, and the like.”

Kreegah took a big bite of his raw dinner. “But the parasites are the best part.”

Snarg chirped her agreement as she crunched into tasty bone.

“Venusian biology is…delicate,” I said.

He nodded, chewing and wiping his greasy hands on his thighs.

“Where did you learn to speak?” she asked. “Did Emperor teach you?”

“The computer taught me.”

He pushed a button. It took several presses to get a response. The only working screen crackled to life, the lighting went blue, and a klaxon sounded.

“Attention,” said a static-filled voice. “Attention. Unauthorized life-forms identified aboard bridge. Unauthorized—”

Something shorted, and the blue switched off. The klaxon attempted to continue, but only came out as a muted bass thumping.

Kreegah pushed the button several more times. The blue came back. The computer sounded its warning.

“Intrusion acknowledged,” he said. “Authorized visitors.” This satisfied the computer. It returned the lighting to normal once again, and the bass thump disappeared.

“Hello,” said the computer.

After a few moments, when we didn’t reply, it repeated itself.

“Hello.”

“Greetings,” said Zala, taking pity on the underpowered device.

“Hello.” The computer’s voice squealed. Zala covered her ears.

“You remember Emperor and Snarg, don’t you, computer?” asked Kreegah.

Deep in its core, the computer processed the question. Wisps of smoke rose from its cracked screen.

“Emperor Mollusk and Ultrapede Snarg identified. Hello, Emperor.”

“Hello, computer,” I replied.

The machine shrieked an ultrasonic greeting to Snarg, who stopped eating just long enough to bat her milky yellow eyes and shriek back.

“I am Zala of the—”

“Please designate unidentified life-form.”

Zala tried again, but the computer cut her off, demanding designation.

“I’m trying to supply designation,” said Zala. “If you’d just let me—”

“Designation, please.”

“Zala of the Venusian—”

“Designation, please.”

“Zala of—”

“Designation, please.”

“You stupid malfunctioning piece of technology—”

“Unacceptable levels of hostility detected. Deploying pacification.”

A panel in a wall opened very, very slowly. By all rights, it shouldn’t have worked at all, but it was able, after several seconds of determined creaking, squealing, and cracking, to part and allow a pair of hovering robotic security devices to list clumsily into the bridge. One of the robots only made it a few feet before it popped, caught fire, and fell to the floor. The second managed to reach Zala. It extended a small prod and jabbed her in the shoulder. There was a tiny spark, but not enough to warrant a response from a hardened Venusian warrior.

“Unidentified hostile life-form pacified,” said the computer with just a hint of self-satisfaction.

The robot then chugged its way back to the panel, where it quietly deactivated. The panel creaked and groaned its way closed.

“Designation, please.”

Zala sighed.

The computer made a grinding, whirring noise.

“Designation assigned: Zala.”

The computer snapped off.

“She’s not what she used to be,” explained Kreegah, “but she was functional enough to give me an education.”

“Then you know where you come from?” asked Zala. “Where your home is.”

“This is my home. Jupiter is a planet I don’t even remember.”

“And you don’t want to go back there?”

“Why would I?”

“But it’s your origin, where you belong.”

“I wasn’t raised on Jupiter. I only know what the computer has shown me about it. But I would be a savage on that world, a thing to be pitied and mocked. Here, I’m happy. I don’t belong on Jupiter.”

“But don’t you get lonely?”

“I’m too busy surviving to be lonely,” he replied. “And I have the computer and my adopted people to keep me company. Why would I need anything else?”

“But there’s more to life than surviving,” she said.

“Like what?” asked Kreegah, genuinely interested.

“Like honor and service.”

“I’m unaware of these concepts. The computer has never mentioned them, and they’ve never come up among my people.”

“Because your people are uncivilized beasts.”

She paused.

“I’m sorry. That was disrespectful.”

“Was it? You were just saying what you were thinking. Is that considered rude? But isn’t that honest? Is honesty less important than respect? Is deceit a part of honor?”

“No, but I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“But I’m not offended. I’m more troubled by lies than by truth. In the tribe, if one member doesn’t like another, they say so. Then they fight until the matter is settled. To the death, if necessary. Are you saying you don’t like me? Though I’m not offended, I will fight you if that’s what your honor demands.”

She said, “No, you misunderstand me.”

Kreegah nodded. “I see. If I’ve offended you, then should we fight?”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand honor then. It seems…ridiculous, a way to be offended by others and to offend others.”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s complicated.”

“I’ve heard this before,” said Kreegah. “It seems to be a word people use to avoid explaining something. Perhaps I’m too uncivilized to be offended.”