"Oy." Captain Cohen was also leaning forward in his chair, staring at the moss-laden woman. "So what does poor Kaisho think about this? Me, I’d cut off my legs as soon as I saw moss growing."
"That wouldn’t have helped," I said. "The moss had permeated her internal organs long before it showed outside. Amputate the visible spores, and there’d still be plenty in her heart, her lungs, her bloodstream — everywhere. As for Kaisho’s opinion of what’s happening to her…" I tried to speak without inflection. "She’s thrilled to have been chosen as the Balrog’s host. It’s transforming her into something glorious. She admits that her primitive brain sometimes panics at the thought of being cannibalized, but her higher mental functions soon reassert themselves, and she recognizes the privilege she’s been given. Kaisho is deeply, joyously, in awe of the Balrog and loves it without reserve."
"In other words," said Li, "she’s been brainwashed."
"The spores," I said, "have suffused every part of Kaisho’s nervous system, including the brain. When she speaks, we have to assume it’s the Balrog talking, not whatever remains of the original woman."
"You think there’s some Kaisho left?" Cohen asked.
"The Balrog can’t entirely obliterate her human personality; that would upset the League. The spores must have preserved enough of Kaisho’s psyche that she’s still technically alive."
"Oh good," said Li. "So she’s conscious enough to know she’s being eaten, enslaved, and brainwashed."
Ubatu flinched. She mumbled something under her breath, then turned her back on both Li and the vidscreen.
"Forgive an old man his senility," Captain Cohen said, "but what is the Balrog’s point? If it’s so inhumanly smart, why’s it doing this? Kaisho… Zoonau… what does it want?"
"I can’t answer about Zoonau," I told him. "As for Kaisho, there are plenty of theories why the Balrog took her, but they’re all just speculation. The only thing we can say for sure is that the Balrog’s action was premeditated — it can predict human actions with a high degree of accuracy, so it must have known when and where Kaisho would be. It waited for her at the perfect spot for an ambush. Then it took her the moment she came within reach."
"Did it want this Kaisho in particular," Li asked, "or was she chosen at random?"
"Only the Balrog knows."
"Damn." The ambassador paced a few steps, then turned back to me. "Has it ever taken anyone else?"
I checked. "There’s nothing in navy records."
"Has it ever done anything like it’s doing to Zoonau?"
This time I knew the answer without doing a data search. "A few years ago, the Balrog attacked an orbital habitat belonging to the Fasskisters. It overgrew the entire place — coated every square millimeter."
"Ah!" Li said, rubbing his hands together. "Now we’re getting a pattern. Did it leave the Fasskisters themselves untouched the way it’s leaving the Cashlings?"
I shook my head. "You know that Fasskisters are puny little aliens who encase themselves in robot armor? Big powered suits that compensate for the Fasskisters’ physical weakness? Well, the Balrog covered each Fasskister suit with a thick mass of spores that disrupted the mechanical control systems. The Fasskisters ended up imprisoned like knights in suits of rusted metal. Kaisho, speaking for the Balrog, said the Fasskisters would be kept immobilized for twenty years. Their life-support systems would stay operative, and they’d be supplied with whatever they needed to survive, but they wouldn’t be allowed to move till the Balrog let them go."
"Did she say why the Balrog did it?" Cohen asked.
"As punishment. Apparently the Fasskisters had captured a few Balrog spores and locked them in containment bottles. Then they used the spores’ long-range telepathy as a private communication system. The Balrog was furious at having bits of itself kidnapped to serve as someone else’s intercom. It imprisoned the Fasskisters as vengeance."
"Vengeance." Li echoed the word as if he liked the sound. "Do you think that’s the reason for Zoonau?"
I shrugged. "Cashlings aren’t noted for prudence. They might have done something to make the Balrog angry."
Li nodded. "They annoy the crap out of me every time I meet them. And they’re greedy too. I could easily picture them trying to exploit the Balrog and getting the damned moss mad."
"Do you think that’s it?" Cohen asked me. "You know this Balrog better than we do."
I didn’t answer — I just turned a dial on my console. The picture of Kaisho disappeared, and the screen returned to Zoonau. No significant change in the picture. A few Cashlings were talking into comm implants now, holding animated discussions. Knowing Cashlings, they probably weren’t calling home to check on loved ones; they’d be contacting local news services, trying to sell their stories. Trapped by a moss monstrosity: my terrifying ordeal! Others were no doubt calling politicians, bureaucrats, anyone who’d answer. The people of Zoonau would howl to government officials, and those officials (eager to pass the buck) would call our Technocracy consulate for help… wailing, "Please, we can’t handle this on our own."
Although our consuls were probably sick of Cashlings whining, this particular crisis would elicit a quick response… because people at our consulate knew that sooner or later, some Cashling in Zoonau would fight back.
Cashlings seldom turned nasty. They were usually too lazy, vain, and petulant to take forceful action against obstacles they met. When something went wrong, they’d complain, complain, complain to other species till somebody bailed them out.
But even a race of useless idlers had some few individuals with sparks of spirit. In Zoonau, some Cashling would eventually be pushed beyond its limits, becoming so angry or upset it would stir into action.
Like trying to set Balrog spores on fire.
Or dousing them with dangerous chemicals.
Or simply smashing them with a rock, over and over and over.
Which would be understandable… but we couldn’t let it happen.
Not that I feared for the Balrog’s health. If it didn’t want to get burned, doused, or smashed, its spores would just avoid the attack. This was a creature that could teleport… and could foresee the actions of lesser beings far in advance. The Balrog wouldn’t let itself get hit unless it wanted to.
But the Cashlings of Zoonau didn’t know that. Cashlings were bottomless pits of ignorance when it came to most other species. And if some Cashling tried to pummel a clump of moss, the League would regard that action as attempted homicide: deliberately intending to kill sentient Balrog spores. The Cashling responsible would be considered a dangerous nonsentient. Furthermore, the Cashling government might be in trouble for not doing its utmost to avoid such violence; the Technocracy could be accused of negligence for not helping the Cashlings; and I myself might be considered callously indifferent if I saw this mess coming and did nothing to stop it.
"How old is this footage?" I asked. "When did the Balrog attack?"
"About an hour ago."
"Do we have anything more recent?"
Cohen shook his head. "The city’s internal cameras aren’t broadcasting anymore."
"Probably mossed over," said Li, stating the obvious.
So the Cashlings had been trapped for an hour. And the readouts on the console in front of me said it would take another hour for Pistachio to reach Cashleen. By which time, the people of Zoonau would be getting antsy.
"We have to go in as soon as we achieve orbit," I said. "Before one of those Cashlings does something we’ll regret."
"Looks like it," the captain agreed. "We’re the only non-Cashling ship in the star system."
"But suppose the Balrog is punishing the Cashlings," Ubatu said. She’d finally turned back to join our conversation. "Suppose the Balrog is punishing Zoonau like it punished those Fasskisters. If the Cashlings have done something to anger the Balrog, we have to think twice about coming in on the wrong side."