Jarmo waited until the men were out of earshot before pointing out a critical flaw in Droad’s theory. “This seems unlikely, given that the laser destroyed the orbiter at a critical point.”
“Yes. Hmm.” Droad glanced about to see if the men were listening. “This whole situation does look like a set up, a trap. Either the aliens or Mai Lee ambushed us, I’ll wager.”
Jarmo agreed.
For a time they followed the mech through the vast maze of the hold. He seemed familiar with every aspect of it. They encountered no one, except for a few dead security men. The mech explained that they had died trying to keep his mech platoon in this hold. Droad made a wry face at the twisted bodies, and the mood of the men dampened again. It seemed unlikely that the crew of the Gladius would warmly receive anyone allied with the mechs. Reaching one of the distant walls of the hold, they found a blasted-open portal that led into a service duct. Trotting in single file, faces slick with nervous sweat and speaking little, they entered the bowels of the ship.
As they climbed up further into the heart of the great vessel, the signs of combat increased. Bulkheads were sealed and had to be forced. Automated cannon were set to ambush anyone ascending the decks, these had to be disarmed or circumvented. Dead crewmen and dead aliens lay strewn about the darkened corridors. The metal floors were pooled with blood and other inhuman and less identifiable body fluids.
The central galleries were huge airy chambers that normally operated as open marketplaces. Now, instead of being thronged with traders the chambers were vast mausoleums: dark, silent and stinking of death.
It was when they had reached the central galleries of the ship that the skald attempted to talk with Droad.
Droad was resting with his head in his hands. His sides were heaving slightly from the harsh march through the ship. He looked over toward Sarah and Bili, who seemed more tired than the others did. He would give them another minute.
“Feasting…” said an odd, croaking voice. Droad looked up to discover the long pale face of the skald looking down at him. He had approached silently and without warning. Droad found his stealth and bizarre behavior disconcerting. He frowned.
“What do you want?”
“The lines of the feasting…” said the skald. His face worked with fantastic concentration. His hands rose up slowly from his sides, white palms exposed and spread flat. Large blue eyes seemed almost luminous in the center of a floating nimbus of flaxen hair.
“I don’t understand you. Are you trying to tell me something?” asked Droad. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. His curiosity was engaged. Could this lunatic help him?
“You must follow the lines to the feasting,” replied the skald with great sincerity. He nodded to Droad slowly and smiled with relief, as if he had succeeded at an amazing effort of communication and imparted great knowledge. Still smiling vaguely, he began to step slowly from side to side, then to shuffle about in a circle. He hummed tonelessly. Droad thought of a corpse performing a strange flat-footed waltz.
It was clear that the man was utterly insane. Droad sighed, reseating himself. Had he sunk so low that he looked for answers for his problems from the deranged? He put his face back into his hands for a moment’s rest. Quietly, the skald shuffled away.
“We have a contact, sir,” interrupted Jarmo.
Droad’s head snapped up. He reached for the phone, careful not to touch the transmit button. It wouldn’t do for anyone to pinpoint them. He listened only. Unnoticed, the skald’s pallid form slipped away, heading toward the entrance of the aft duct system.
“Sounds like that witch of a senator, Mai Lee,” he commented. “All she’s doing is requesting my response. Can you get me video?”
Jarmo presented another handset with a tiny screen on it. In flat 2D a face flickered into existence. It was a metallic head of some kind. For a moment, Droad believed this to be some new and terrifying variety of alien as yet unencountered. Then he realized it was the stylized helmet of a hi-tech battlesuit.
He pursed his lips and grimaced in annoyance. “Where did she get that thing? Clearly against all Nexus proscriptions. Not that I’m surprised.”
Jarmo looked on impassively. Droad knew he was patiently waiting for him to make his decision. Communicating with the woman could mean a dangerous enemy would pinpoint their positions. Or it could be an opportunity for the last remaining human forces on the ship to rejoin.
Droad rubbed his chin and lips, eyeing the tiny metallic image with distrust. “Just a recording repeating the same message. Have you pinpointed her?”
“Bridge section,” replied Jarmo.
Droad smiled grimly. “So she did fire the laser.”
“Fire control could have been diverted at either the redundant bridge or the manual controls at the laser turret itself.”
Droad frowned. “We need information.”
Jarmo was silent.
“If we make a short transmission, can we be out of here quickly enough to avoid attack?”
“I don’t know the layout of the ship well enough to judge. Let’s consult the Lieutenant.”
Droad agreed. He smiled slightly, noting that Jarmo, unlike everyone else in the group, always referred to the mechs by their ranks, never just as ‘the mech’ as the rest of the humans tended to do. He wondered if his lack of labeling had to do with his own genetic specializations. Although much less of a freak than a mech, some of the same technology, and hence the same stigma from normal humans, applied to Jarmo.
“If we maneuver down two decks using the aft conduit system, then double back into the primary filtration units, it is very unlikely any search party would be able to locate us,” the mech informed them.
“Ready the team, then. In one minute I want everybody on their feet and ready to bolt into the ducts again.”
Jarmo jumped up and everyone hurried after him and the mech. When he had them in position for a fast get away and had trotted back to the Governor’s position, Droad opened a channel to the bridge.
The connection was made and the face of Mai Lee’s battlesuit flickered into view again. This time it was a profile shot, however. The video pickup was limited, but Droad made out movement behind her. Large men in full body-shell passed back and forth with a sense of urgency. The dragon’s head of Mai Lee’s suit swung back to face him. He noted the eerie blue radiance that emanated from the jagged metal mouth.
“What is your status, Senator?” asked Droad. He endeavored to sound light and unconcerned. “Can we be of assistance?”
“You live, Droad!” boomed the hideous dragon’s head. “I suspected as much. You’re as hard to kill as these filthy aliens.”
Droad’s voice hardened. “So you’re behind the slaughter of my forces? Why would you ambush us when we’re coming to aid in keeping the Gladius out of alien hands?”
Mai Lee laughed. The amplified sound was so loud that the receiver’s speakers distorted it into a shrieking squawk of noise at Droad’s end. He adjusted the tiny volume knob in annoyance.
“The ship is in my hands now, Droad. You are only another contender for control of the only means out of this doomed system,” she said. Droad looked surprised, and she snorted derisively. “Don’t try to pretend that the thought of escaping this hell-hole governorship of yours had never crossed your mind, stripling. I won’t believe that.”
She broke off and shouted behind her. There was a commotion out of range of the video pick-up. Droad turned up the volume again and studied the image of the bridge intently, trying to figure out what was going on. She turned back to Droad and her amplified voice again overloaded the tiny handset. Droad twisted the knob downward again, grimacing at the noise.
“-Just to let you know what’s coming: The waste will be spilling down to your deck within minutes. You’ve given me long enough to pinpoint your location. You’re too far from your flitter to make it back in time. This entire conversation, by the way, was just to make sure you would have no opportunity to escape the radiation-” here she broke off again. There was the sound of gunfire behind her on the bridge. The connection fizzled and was cut off abruptly.