There was a moment of shocked silence in the mess hall. This soon passed and was replaced by screams, gasps and cries of recrimination erupted around the room. Aldo’s lips twisted in annoyance. He looked for Joelle, but unsurprisingly, she had fled the room in horror.
Aldo sheathed his blade after wiping away dripping fluids, and grunted unhappily. He shook his head slowly as he eyed the mess lying upon the deck. He had only done what was necessary, but he knew there would be no fine wine shared with Joelle tonight. This backstabbing Lieutenant had seen to that, even if it had cost him his life.
Four
Upon finally entering the sanctuary the skalds had arranged for themselves aboard Gladius, Garth left behind the terror of the alien monsters-but he felt far from safe. These people were controlled by the Tulk, a race of aliens that were as erudite as the Skaintz were visceral. But they were still strange and dangerous.
Tulk riders lived inside the skulls of their hosts. Parasitic beings, they rarely dealt with the outside world, and one of their greatest fears was that of being exposed to that exterior environment. Physically, they were little more than a pound or so of spiny jelly, but they were quite capable of invading a host and dominating it at will. They did not ‘take the reins’ of their mounts often, preferring to live a dreaming life inside the skull of the host, contemplating deep philosophical concepts. Occasionally, however, events took a grim turn and they were forced to dominate their host in order to ensure their survival and avoid the risk of exposure.
Having two minds riding in one skull, one human and one alien made skalds behave oddly from the point of view of observing humans. The alien Tulk, even though they were generally quiescent, affected the nervous system of their hosts. To Garth, who’d once been a skald himself, the behavior of these human-alien hybrids was predictable and rational-but sinister.
“What has become of your rider, rogue?” a skald asked him. She was a pretty waif, with slack features, pale skin and soft, padding feet.
“I’m not sure,” Garth answered.
He was decidedly nervous among the skalds, who’d once sought to kill him. He licked his lips continuously as he followed the skald girl into the central saloon of the VIP lounge. There, a central seating arrangement allowed a group of skalds to sit in a ring, holding hands. They appeared unconscious, but he knew they were aware. Their riders were communing. It seemed odd to have such a large group conferring at once. Tulk usually preferred wandering isolation, with rare moments of contact. Garth knew that they must be discussing the enemy aboard the ship.
“Your answer is unsatisfactory,” one of the communing skalds said, speaking from the couch. This one was a male, and taller than most. He had a large head-the skull was fringed in white hair and almost bulbous in shape. As he spoke, he did not look up, but let his head loll to one side as if sleeping.
Garth licked his lips again. “I’m sorry, but they took Fryx from me. I-”
“Who do you refer to with a vague pronoun, rogue?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who is: they?”
“Ah, well, Lucas Droad and his crew. They took Fryx and imprisoned him on Neu Schweitz. I don’t know what has become of him since that time.”
The skald on the couch lifted his hand toward the female who’d allowed Garth to enter their sanctuary. His skinny arm extended toward her unerringly, despite the fact his eyes remained closed and his head continued to droop. Wordlessly, the girl approached and took his hand. She looked at Garth with a new sharpness in her expression. Her eyes had become piercing and judgmental.
“He will do,” the old skald on the couch said.
Garth understood that the old Tulk had borrowed the vision of the younger, and it was he who looked out of her pale, blue, wet eyes now.
“Will do for what?” Garth asked. “I’ve come to help you. I know where the enemy is. The infection is still light, and early in its discovery. Perhaps they can be excised. I can help in this matter. The crew can join with the skalds and save the lives of all.”
After this brief speech, during which Garth found his words tumbling out of his mouth and seemingly blurring over one another, the attitude of the girl shifted. She smirked lightly, then made an odd, barking sound. Garth realized she was laughing at him.
“You are a fool, even for a rogue,” she said. “There will be no cooperation.”
“Why not? We are all trapped on this ship. We die or survive as one.”
“If we join the riderless human cattle in their struggle with the Skaintz, we will perish.”
“You will perish in any regard, if the enemy is not defeated.”
“This enemy can’t be defeated. They can only be avoided.”
“Nonsense. I’ve read the archeological texts. The Tulk once fought the Skaintz. Your people beat them once-in this very section of space.”
For the very first time, the Tulk controlling the girl’s speech paused, and appeared troubled. Garth knew that in and of itself was a triumph. He pressed ahead.
“You can hide in here, but they will find a way in eventually. You don’t have a separate propulsion system, placing you at their mercy. If they tire of you, they can steer this vessel into the furnace of a nearby star. You must fight at some point.”
“We have held council, discussing these things. It is possible the unspeakable events you prophesize will come to pass. But for now, we will remain quiet and hidden. Let the wild humans flail against them. With luck, they will succeed and drive them from the ship. If they do not, we have our walls. If those fail, we will act because we will be forced to act.”
Garth sighed. The mindset of the Tulk had not changed much since he was one with them. They seemed to have little of the fire left that had caused them to stand up to the Skaintz in the past.
“Why then,” he asked delicately, “did you allow me to enter your sanctuary?”
“We have need of you. My mount is ailing. I need a new one.”
Horror swept through Garth, and he reacted with physical revulsion at the thought. The pain alone would be bad enough, but the process of the mounting-he could not imagine going through it again. The Tulk would be an old one, meaning it had bulk. It would not fit easily, sliding through his nasal orifice and digging its way into his skull. Commonly, the Tulk made decisions about what sections of brain tissue were extraneous and carefully excised them as bloody waste when they found themselves in a tight fit. Once inside, they dug in their spines and took command of their new hosts, tapping blood vessels to feed and nerve endings to exert control.
Before coming here, Garth had considered the possibility of ill-treatment on the part of his hosts. He had a blade in his belt, and he withdrew it now. He held it up so it gleamed in the light of the jeweled chandeliers that hung over the couches.
“I will not allow any Tulk to mount me again,” he said.
None of the skalds moved, but Garth sensed a change in their demeanor. They often seemed to be dreamy and aloof, but the threat of physical, bodily harm coming to their mounts always got their attention.
“You would threaten your masters with violence?” the skald girl asked. Her face registered dull shock.
“You have threatened me.”
“We’ve offered you a rider, a chance to rise again from the herds of filthy, wild humans into the ranks of the skalds. Such an elevation of status should be met with tears of joy. This is an especially rare honor since you are a rogue, who would normally be put down.”
“I thank you for your consideration, but I must refuse.”
“I am Ornth, the greatest of the Tulk in this region of space. Unfortunately, I’m riding a dying mount. I must have a new mount in order to persist. It is inconceivable you would deny me this request.”
Garth shrugged with casual disinterest. “You should consider sharing another skull among your party. If they will not have you, perhaps they will feed you tidbits while you float in a tank of liquid. Fryx did exactly that for years while in space, and the experience caused him no permanent harm.”
