In fact, it was all a groggy blur, looking out of a glass prison, some sort of tank. Reeking tentacles had seized him with bone-breaking force and now there was Goss, his synthetic, ripped into several pieces, clumped in a glass container box before him, his gaping eyes and head lolling out.
This must be some hellish nightmare. Mathias cringed, felt no pain, only a sense of vacuous non-existence, much more horrifying than any ‘death’ he could imagine. The dispassionate Zikri leader and his entourage stared at him through the glass like judgement officers, a sort of vindictive triumph glinting in those pig-like eyes of theirs...
* * *
Even subcommander Krin for all his fearlessness felt a frisson of anxiety as the Mentera ring station came into view. The double-torus craft was still undergoing repairs from the attack by the Jakru and their rogue general Zaul.
He had never liked dealing with the locusts. He believed the Zikri had become subordinate to the Mentera when the alliance had been signed. That they were doing all the insects’ kidnapping for them, running all the risks. But he kept his polyp shut. It was not becoming of one of his rank to speak out against decisions made from higher up. Others would govern and effect policy, not him.
Krin’s orders were simple: hunt down the escaped prisoners responsible for the Orb’s demise and redeem his failure. That was his charge, or die.
Some of the heat would be off his tentacles, now that the mastermind of the human expedition, the one called Mathias, had been caught.
Summoned aboard Krake’s ship, Krin adopted a whole new persona: one meek and deferential. He entered a roundish hall of barbaric splendour, dark and pillared with ribs like the innards of a gutted whale. The slick and gleaming curved walls displayed racks upon racks of their typical fiendish torture instruments of metal. He played a sensitive game here, sparring with Krake who was a proven master several years his senior. A game where life and death were separated only by a thin thread.
“What happened to Vngbrug?” demanded Krake, his grizzled face curdling in anger.
Krin recalled how he had slaughtered Krake’s gurkuk like a disobedient pup aboard Mathias’s ship during the battle. “Alas, he did not make it.” Krin reflected further, there could be only one commander, and Vngbrug was definitely not it.
Krake’s features contorted in new fury. “What do you mean ‘alas’, and how many Orbs did you lose?”
“Three, sir.”
“I should kill you for that now, Krin. On your knees!”
Without hesitating, Krin grovelled before his superior, splaying upper tentacles, white-side up before him, as was Zikri custom of kowtowing before a commanding lord.
Krake gripped Krin’s tentacles in his own, almost an intimate embrace, a visible display of power, dominancy, hierarchy and strength. Krin showed just the proper hint of pressure, for it was an insult to squeeze back with full force, as it likewise was to meekly yield.
Krake applied more pressure. It demonstrated he could rip off his underling’s motilators at any time. That or damage the muscle beyond repair. Krin resisted enough to make Krake feel powerful and respected, but not so much as to express an overt challenge. There were tremors of rage brewing there that were quite ready to tear Krake’s motilators off.
Krake spoke at last: “As chief punisher, you know it is my duty to keep my immediate subordinates in place.”
“Yes, lord.” Krin remained prostrate, squinting at the racks of pain-inducing torture devices on Krake’s vine-draped walls, slicked with a gleaming gel. Three Zikri victims were currently in tentacle-manacles, in various degrees of anguish.
“So what happened out there?”
“Vngbrug was eager to prove himself. I counselled against bringing in more Orbs for reinforcements.”
Krake’s grip pulsed with increased pressure. “True, but that does not exonerate you from blame.”
Krin winced. “Your gurkuk bungled the job. Through his hubris and conceit, he foolishly engaged forces beyond his ability. An unnecessary risk. His only wish was to impress you with ripe spoils should his bold tactic succeed. He set me up to take the fall, should it fail. It did, with considerable loss of Zikri warriors and Orbs. I witnessed the savage robo-human thing. Tore your gukruk and Kral apart like pups scrapping over a bone.”
“So why have you come then?” snarled Krake. “Do you have anything for me?”
Krin was about to divulge his famous prize, Mathias, but something stayed his tongue. A glimmer of ambition in the commander’s eyes was enough of a signal for him. No, he would keep his treasure secret for now, until such treasure could bring advantages his way. If need be, he would trade the human’s life for his own.
“I have—”
“What? What have you? What of the skurg who ravaged the Orb on the dead moon?”
“We have a fix on him, lord. Our next mission awaits. I thought I’d report to you my spoils—in advance.”
“An irregular procedure, but proceed.” Krake lifted a tentacle, releasing its grip on his underling.
Krin gratefully lifted himself to his feet and massaged his numbed tentacles. “I have come to offer a dozen subjects and the remains of a human-like machine for study in our labs. Perhaps we can revive it and produce others like it.”
Krake twitched a motilator and chittered sullenly. “At worst, we can back-engineer the device and use it for our technical weapons’ arsenal. Very good, Krin. Anything else to report?”
Krin licked his polyp of a mouth and quivered a lower tentacle, indicative of a no. Lies like this spilled easily from his maw. He had told many of them during his rise to power and they came quite naturally now. But should he be caught in one by Krake—Krin shuddered at the thought. He recalled Vngbrug choking in his own blood. He had hidden Mathias safely away in the hold, no chance that Krake could readily
