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on the planet below pause, watch the glow streak across their sky, and realize
what it meant. She reached, pulled the great black toward her.
Could she force it down there, to the surface itself, to complete the conquest
of the brethren? She tried, but the black's resistance was too much for her.
She did not have the strength to overcome its will to avoid large masses. But
she believed she could force it down if she were fresh.
She released it with a stroke of gratitude. It flashed away across the void to
resume its place on the edge of the system.
Marika sent her allies down to complete the subjugation of the planet. She
drifted across to the alien starship and forced her way inside. The last
minutes before she succeeded were desperate ones, for she had no strength left
and was beyond help from the senior bath and her golden fluid-even had the
bath had strength enough to leave her station. Had she tried to descend to the
planet's surface she would have followed Bestrei as a shooting star.
She led her huntresses and bath into halls filled with breathable air. The
moment they were safe she sat down, her back against metal, and sighed. "That
was close. As close as ever I want to get."
It was very strange in there. Very spartan and spare, all metal and cold and
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electronic lighting and the hollow sound of feet shuffling on deckplates. Her
curiosity was intense but she hadn't the strength to pursue it. "Grauel.
Barlog," she whispered. "I must rest. Stand watch. Please."
The bath, except their senior, had collapsed into sleep already.
Grauel and Barlog shared their remaining ammunition and stood guard, though
they themselves were near collapse from exhaustion. Marika had drawn upon them
as well as her bath.
Marika wakened ten hours later, feeling little better than when she had closed
her eyes. Barlog was snoring. Grauel had the watch. The bath were all still
asleep. "Any trouble?" Marika asked.
"None yet," Grauel replied. "Not a sign of life. But this place makes me
nervous. It vibrates all the time, and makes sounds you cannot hear unless you
listen. It makes me think of putting my ear against someone's stomach and
listening to what is going on inside. It makes me feel as if I am inside the
belly of some mythological monster."
When Marika listened she could hear and feel what Grauel meant. It was
disconcerting. She opened to the All, seeking those who had come to the system
with her.
Dead ships were adrift everywhere. A disaster? She counted carefully. There
were only ten derelict or missing. Not as bad as she had feared. But only ten?
Was that not disaster enough? That was almost half the force she had brought.
A massive loss of dark-faring silth. Virtually every void-faring Community
would be plunged into Mourning.
And the expense of victory did not stop totally with a count of darkships
lost. The survivors down below, upon the planet's surface, resting and
inventorying what had been taken, numbered only enough to cobble together
crews for seven or eight darkships. The fall of the Serke might mark the end
of an era in more ways than one.
"Is there anything to eat?" Marika asked. "Did anyone think to bring anything
in? I'm ravenous." The struggle had consumed her body's energy reserves.
"There is cold meat," Grauel replied. "The bath remembered to bring it in, but
I have found no way to cook it."
Marika was amused by a vision of nomads cooking over a dung fire in the middle
of the floor of an electric kitchen. Neither she nor any of those with her had
any idea what anything aboard the alien might do.
"Did we take any captives who know anything about the ship?"
Grauel shrugged. "I'm not silth, Marika. I can't communicate with those
below."
"Of course. It was foolish of me to ask. Get some rest now. I'm going
exploring."
"Marika... "
"Give me your ammunition. I'll be fine."
Grauel did not argue, which indicated just how far she and Grauel had extended
themselves. Marika moved the ammunition from Grauel's weapon to her own, then
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settled down to gnaw on cold, half-cooked preserved meat. Her stomach rumbled
a greeting as sustenance finally arrived.
Having eaten, she reached out to the planet and tracked down a Mistress who
was alert enough to be touched. She sent a series of queries and learned that
only a pawful of Serke had been taken captive. Few of the rogue brethren had
survived either. There had been a lot of anger in the struggle down there, and
each death scream of another allied darkship had heightened the fury of the
attackers. The majority of the prisoners were bonds. They would know little or
nothing.
Some who had been interviewed were unaware that they were not still upon the
meth homeworld.
But we did capture the records of the investigation of the alien ship,
apparently intact.
That is wonderful, Marika responded. I will come down to examine them as soon
as my bath are rested enough to make the descent. We will want hot food, and
lots of it, when we arrive. She broke touch and began to wander through the
dead ship.
She found dead brethren everywhere. Those who had not gotten themselves into
their suppressor suits had begun to bloat, to stink. The first order of
business would be to get rid of them before they polluted the environment
permanently. She stepped over and around them, ignoring them, as she examined
alien hardware.
The ship was a Jiana, she reflected. Or, if not a doomstalker, certainly
accursed. Twice those it sustained had been slaughtered by enemies from
without. She sped an admonitory prayer to the All, suggesting that that not be
made a tradition.
The starship was a tradermale's dream. It recalled the wonder she had felt the
first time she had entered the control cabin of a dirigible, now so long ago
the moment seemed excised from another life. The line of descent from that
crude array to this was obvious at the control stations.
Much of what she saw was recognizable in terms of function, if not of actual
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