Chapter Twenty-Three
Clive felt strange. It was not the first time in the past few days he had felt this way, but now it was greater, elevated. Where he had expected to find legs, instead were engines. His arms felt like doors, folding open and closed as he stretched them. A hundred-thousand thoughts floating through his head, streams of information, feedback from his body. His power regulators were running correctly, whatever that meant. He could feel a power within his gut, filling him. It tingled in his head. Clive found he could think faster, sorting the discordant thoughts into orderly rows.
He was aware, vaguely, that he wasn’t in his original body anymore. His human body, no matter how much Michael said otherwise. Clive knew, deep within himself that this body was human too, just in a different way to before. He could see Michael, the sole other human in their group, wandering around, in what Clive was becoming aware was inside himself. It had been strange, his transfer from his first body to the second. This transition was still odd, but less so. It almost seemed to be welcoming him in, eager to find itself with a soul.
The others were with Michael, traipsing around inside of Clive. It struck him as a little rude. They were searching, trying to find somewhere inside him. They had left Kestok and the furry alien whose name Clive had missed, tinkering in the massive chamber that housed what Clive understood as his stomach. Clive sighed, his displeasure echoing through the air, projected by an invisible cloud of microscopic machines that filled the ship.
“If you’re going to stomp around inside me, with dirty boots I might add, you might as well tell me where you are going?”
The wandering crowd stopped, looking around them for the source of the voice.
“Uh, we’re looking for the bridge, or control room, or whatever this ship has, Clive,” Aileena said. “Any chance you know where it is?”
“Hmm, maybe.”
“Maybe?” Michael said. He turned around awkwardly, trying to find a place to direct his words. It had been easy on the Seeker, Clive’s voice had come from speakers, their direction easy to discern.
“Look, you try waking up in a different body and then telling me where something is inside you.” Clive’s voice had taken on a thick layer of sass, unusual for the normally friendly former missionary. “This is my third body. This week!”
“Ok, ok. You are a robot though, or an AI, or whatever, shouldn’t this all come naturally?”
“Ok, but I’m a human though?”
“You clearly aren’t a human, Clive,” Michael said, his shoulders dropping. “Humans don’t get to turn into spaceships.”
“There’s always a first for everything.”
“Hey, Clive buddy, can you do it?” Brekt asked, his voice as calm as ever. The mercenary always seemed to have a composed demeanour, as if nothing in the universe could threaten him. It was more than a little unsettling at times.
“I think so, hang on.” Clive thought for a moment, trying to find what he was searching for in his mind. There! The location rose to the forefront of his thoughts. It was forward in the ship, not right at its tip, but close. To Clive, it felt like it was where his head should be. “You guys want a lift?”
“A lift?” Mellok asked. “Is it far?”
“Yeah. I feel pretty big now. Like I’ve been eating too many of the popular human foodstuff, hamburgers with cheese.”
“You can just say cheeseburgers,” Michael said, he rubbed his stomach. “God I could really go for a cheeseburger right about now actually. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”
“I can help there too, I think, I have some stores of what seems to be a nutrient slurry. I could squeeze some out for you? There’s a dispenser nearby.”
Michael’s face went pale and he waved his hands frantically. “No, no. That’s fine. I’m not sure I want to eat a however many thousand-year-old goo that’s been squirted out of a person.”
“So, you do agree I’m human then?” Clive asked. There was a high-pitched whine from somewhere down the corridor.
“I said a person, not a human. What the hell is that noise?”
“What noise?” Aileena said, standing on her tiptoes as though it would help.
“It’s like a whining?” Michael said. “You know the kind of noise they added to electric cars so people could hear them coming?”
“Nope.” Aileena shook her head. “Can’t hear… oh, I can now. It’s really faint though.”
The source of the noise soon revealed itself. It was a procession of the carts they had seen earlier, evidently repowered as the ship awoke. They came to a stop by the assembled party. There were no controls Michael could see, only seats eagerly awaiting passengers. Each chair had a large hole at its base, a reminder of the ship’s Merydian builders.
“Hop in,” Clive said. “These will take you where you need to go.”
The carts sailed down the hallways of the ship, through its delicate curves and discarded panels, evidence of Skorra’s constant tinkering. Gravult and his attendants had piled into the first cart, two of the bodyguards choosing to perch atop the back rather than leave their charge.
“Why does he need those?” Michael said, leaning over to Aileena in the seat next to him, his voice a whisper. “It seems pretty safe, all told. The ice crabs don’t come to the mountains, and he’s the leader of the only remaining city. People seemed to like him well enough.”
Aileena let out a snort. “I’ve met with enough dodgy politicians and self-appointed leaders to know fake smiles and false platitudes are the norm for most people around them. Besides, if some aliens fell from the sky, prophecy or not wouldn’t you want some guards with you?”
“Sure, but I also wouldn’t give them the keys to an ancient spaceship.”
“It’s win-win for him,” Mellok said from the seat behind Michael. “It works and he’s the prime minister who found the star child and freed his people from a terrible monster. If it fails, well then, the tower is the only hope they have, a hope he happens to control.”
“Damn,” Michael said. “Didn’t think of it like that.”
“He did, they always do. It’s how politicians think.”
“Is that what you thought?” Michael asked, turning towards Mellok. “When you came to get me? What exactly is your angle, Mellok? What’s in it for you, finding this knower of truths, which again, I’ll point out isn’t me.”
“Same as this ship for the Merydians. Hope.” Mellok tilted his head back towards the ceiling, feathers shimmering. “Cortica, like a million other worlds, is ruled by the Council. Our children are fed their creed, scriptures twisted to justify their wars, their conquests. My people are pressed into service as glorified translation machines. You used one, the handheld machines, we’re unnecessary. To them, a Cortican is a badge of honour, a trophy to be displayed.” He lowered his head again, meeting Michael’s eye. “My whole planet is nothing but a factory, building living toys for people who hold declarations of peace in one hand and a rifle in the other.”
“Well,” Michael said. “That actually, sounds horrible. I’m sorry.”
“It’s the same everywhere,” Aileena said. “Not every planet is as lucky as earth. Even Cortica is lucky, in a way. It’s useful. Not like some planets, there the Council is just as likely to drop bombs as they are religious fliers.” Her voice had grown croaky, tears forming on the edge of her outer eyes.
“Sometimes a little hope is nice,” Brekt said.
“Yeah,” Michael said. “I understand.”
The carts came to a halt outside a large set of double doors, the low whine dying down as they came to a stop. The trip had taken at least twenty minutes, the carts whipping around the corridors at a frightening speed. Michael wondered how they avoided hitting the crew, if the ship had ever had one. The doors slid open slowly, two steel curtains parting, revealing the stage set large behind them.