Yul breathed a gasp of relief. They had left behind Remus. While he and Cloye were conversing, the locust made motions to lift itself from the chair, reaching for a side panel.
In three strides, Yul was at its side and stuck the weapon in its ear. “Fly this thing!” he cried, waving his mechanical fist dangerously close to the locust’s head, pointing to the star map. “To the free colonies—”
The locust seemed to understand that its life was forfeit, and settled back in its chair.
Yul hated the sight of the tanks that glowed off to the sides, which Hresh seemed to be examining now with macabre fascination. “Get away from there,” Yul ordered.
“You’re strung too tight, Yul,” said Cloye. “Take a break, I’ll watch the bug.”
Yul frowned. “Perhaps you’re right.” He looked around and found some tough cord or adhesive like rope, probably what these bugs used on their victims during their raids. It was in the supply kits by the tanks, which he promptly wrapped around the locust’s chest, securing it firmly to its seat. He wrapped several more loops about its pincers to reduce its mobility so it couldn’t try anything covert. He took several strides aft, stooped, pocketed the lumo disruptor which he had kicked away earlier from the locust’s pincer.
A reek emanating from Nonas’s rapidly decomposing corpse forced him to find a large enough compartment to stuff the body in. He recalled, grimacing, that the air units in their suits were drawing oxygen they could obtain from the cabin...also that the slightly alien air mix was somehow contributing to the fetid stench and accelerated body deterioration of Nonas.
This unpleasant task done, he glimpsed an escape pod aft which could prove useful. Also two small bays with raiding gear and supplies: hooks, grapples, carts, equipment he assumed convenient for the locusts’ kidnapping missions. On closer scrutiny, Yul saw this pod was more an EV vessel, complete with locust tail and wings, perfect for the locusts transporting captured humans.
“I’m burning up,” Cloye gasped, scratching at her neck and shoulder.
Yul frowned, uttering a worried sigh. “Fever. Probably from the toxins when those plants stuck to your skin.”
He eased himself with a grunt into a sitting position beside the command post near the tanks, his fingers pressing the bridge of his nose. His eyes were closed, chasing pain and exhaustion away from his aching limbs and wounds. His mind travelled to the nightmarish memory of the squids dragging Hresh’s scientists to their doom aboard the Orb.
“Those poor bastards,” he muttered, “they didn’t have much of a chance, did they, Hresh? Your scientists.”
Hresh shook his head and remained silent.
No matter. What was done, was done, Yul thought. His eyes fluttered closed. Cloye would have the first watch...
* * *
Yul awoke with a start to find Cloye’s olive-skinned body curled around him, practically naked. She had taken off her suit. What was she thinking? He growled out a curse, lurching to his feet, jolting her awake. She blinked, wiping sleep from her eyes.
Hresh was sitting with his back against the nearby wall, like a bag of potatoes, his head lolling, his mouth sagging open. He snored, feet pushed out in front of him like a clown.
The delinquent locust was still strapped to its wire-meshed chair, but the adhesive bands seemed looser than what Yul recalled. He grunted a sour sound. It looked as if it had enough wiggle room to reach one of the side control panels.
“Fuck! That was stupid, Cloye.”
“Sorry, I—must have dozed off.”
“The damage’s done. Get back in your suit.”
“Well, aren’t you a spoil sport?” She pressed closer, her lips drooping in a sultry pout, her breasts heaving.
“I am when I’m thinking that I could have had my throat cut.”
“Relax,” she purred. She eased into her suit, taking her sweet time. “Our grasshopper’s as harmless as a lamb.”
“Is he?” Yul regarded the locust through slitted eyes. The thing glared back at him, silent as a mouse, still as a statue. Something was not right about it. He could sense it in his bones.
The thing’s red eyes gleamed with a hatred that looked like speculation. Yul breathed a quiet breath. “This bug’s fucked us somehow. I can feel it.”
He stomped over to the console and tried to pull up the star map, remembering the sequences the locust had tapped before. The 3D hologram came up, but vastly different than before. Yul blinked in confusion. “Wait, did I? What the—”
“We’re still in the Dim Zone,” hissed Cloye.
“It can’t be, we’ve been flying for hours now,” cried Yul.
Hresh blinked, half asleep, “It must have changed the course.”
“It couldn’t have. Its pincers are strapped to the chair,” said Yul.
“It must have tricked you before you strapped it in,” said Cloye. “Set a faulty course. So don’t blame me.”
Yul tensed in hollow rage.
The ship came out of light drive as if of its own accord.
Yul whirled, caught his breath. He gasped at the panorama revealed on the viewport.
Ring stations, toruses, Orbs, odd-shaped ships everywhere. A firefly swarm of them, like nothing he had ever seen before. “It’s a world of warships...” he murmured.
Mentera heavy vessels, L-16’s, destroyers with massive artillery guns, conning towers a hundred feet high and insect-like grey superstructures, outstretched wings like grasshoppers. They were coming for them.
“What in the holy shades of hell—” Yul smashed his fist into the locust’s plated face. “You double-crossing piece of—”
“Those are Mentera ships!” cried Cloye, baffled. “Why are there so many? Where’d they come from?”
“It’s the Zikri and Mentera alliance,” whispered Yul. “So, it’s real. I see Zikri Orbs here.”
With nothing to lose, the locust whipped its left claw free of
