Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain (16 page)

Other than the coordinates, there was a single image on the disc. A stylized scorpion hieroglyphic. It was just as good as a set of coordinates.

The Everlasting Dynasty was the oldest civilization still active on Terra. Its inventors and strange alchemical science, enabled by a mysterious fountain at its heart, had made it the undisputed master of Africa and much of Asia. But empires crumbled. It was an undisputed truth. Given a long enough time line, even the most powerful nations fall. The nature of their undoing varies, but the end result was always the same. The greatest civilizations are only a few thousand years from being forgotten, as the Dynasty most probably would have been, if not for its peculiar talent to cling to existence as a small dot on a map beside Egypt.

I briefed Zala on what to expect. The Everlasting Dynasty was an insular nation. Though it had none of its former glory, it retained an ability to defend itself. A desperate Axis had invaded in the last days of WW II. Archival newsreels of panzers being melted by solar rays and giant scorpions devouring terrifying platoons had made quite the impression, and as long as the Dynasty kept to itself, the rest of Terra was content to let it alone.

I landed my saucer outside the ancient city and instructed Zala to leave her weapons behind. She insisted on having her sword, and I relented. I had Snarg stay aboard. She didn’t tend to get along with the Dynastic scorpions.

A contingent of bare-chested Terra Sapiens greeted us. They said nothing, leading us through the ancient city and into the throne room of their queen. We stood at the foot of a high golden staircase. Servants parted the embroidered curtains at the top, revealing their queen.

Serket had once been Terra Sapien, although the endless millennia and Dynastic science had altered her immortal body in mysterious ways. She was at least as old as her faded kingdom, and probably a few centuries older. She still stood tall, moved with grace, but she wrapped her flesh in the finest blue silk bandages and wore a hood that covered her head. Her only visible features were her eyes, two bloodred pinpoints of light, and the portion of her mouth visible between two folds.

A pair of giant scorpions trailed obediently behind her. The Everlasting Dynasty had mastered the art of genetic manipulation, via its peculiar alchemical sciences, while the rest of Terran civilization was huddling in caves for warmth.

Serket clapped her hands lightly. A servant rushed over and sprayed a light mist down his queen’s throat, allowing her to speak.

“Hello, Emperor.”

I bowed. “Queen Serket.”

Two more servants took her hands, leading her down the golden staircase. She didn’t seem to need them, but she had developed her quirks over the centuries.

“So good to see you again,” she said. “It’s not every day that I receive the Warlord of Terra.”

“Former Warlord,” I said.

She laughed. It was light and melodious until her voice cracked. She coughed. The throat sprayer dashed over and gave her vocal cords a fresh coat.

“To reign once is to reign forever,” she said. “I ruled the known world. The land for as far as the eye could see and all its people and beasts were mine to command.” She gazed into the distance. “But time is not always kind. Even to immortals.”

More servants threw silk pillows on a golden throne. After their queen was satisfied with their job, she shooed them away and took a seat. The most trying aspect of dealing with Serket was all the long pauses required as she was doted upon.

“So tell me, Emperor,
former
Warlord of Terra. What brings you here?”

“We think someone is stealing water from your fountain,” said Zala.

Serket’s eyes flashed. A servant offered her a platter of dates. She had another servant pick through the dates until he found one worthy of her. He placed it to her lips. She took a nibble and nodded her approval.

“The fountain is my most precious resource.” She paused for another throat moistening. “I assure you no one has stolen a drop of it.”

“Perhaps there’s been a theft you just haven’t noticed yet,” said Zala.

Serket chuckled. “I’m not used to seeing you with such foolish company, Emperor.”

“My apologies, Queen,” I said, “but she has a point. The thieves we suspect are very clever. They managed to abscond with some items of my own.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied the long, delicate fingers on her right hand. “Most distressing, I can imagine. But the Everlasting Dynasty has protected our fountain for over five thousand years without a single incident.”

“There’s always a first time,” said Zala.

Serket shifted in her throne then shifted back. Pillow wranglers ensured they were in the proper position each time.

“Three thousand years ago, I would have had your companion ritually disemboweled for that remark. But this is a different age, I suppose. I may be immortal, but I’m not unchanging. I can accept that the world is…more civilized. The rabble rules it now, and while that is disappointing, it is the way of things. Perhaps in another five thousand, the world will return to its proper order.”

She clapped. A giant scorpion with a throne mounted to its back scuttled from behind a curtain. Her servants transferred their queen to the new conveyance.

“In the meantime, perhaps it would ease your concerns to see the security for our fountain.”

The scorpion lumbered down a hall, and we followed, flanked by guards.

“Not very pleasant, is she?” asked Zala, under her breath.

“You’re still alive,” I replied. “That’s exceedingly polite from her perspective.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m Warlord of Terra. That puts us on relatively equal footing. And, yes, I know I’m not officially holding the title, but Serket’s old-fashioned. Once you’re royalty, you’re always royalty.”

“Such nonsense.”

“If I recall correctly, Venus is ruled by a queen.”

“Our queen proves herself by facing the Twelve Divine Trials. All this queen does is drink from a fountain.”

“I stand corrected. Yours is a far superior arbitrary system of governance.”

We entered a tremendous open space. Red stains, new and old, spattered the stones under our feet. Bones and broken weapons lay scattered across the room. Zala reached for her weapon, but changed her mind when three spears were put to her throat.

A blue spotlight fixed on us. My exoskeleton shut down.

Serket’s scorpion throne sprouted dragonfly wings and flew her to a balcony overlooking the chamber.

“You’ll forgive the insult,” said Serket. “I never would have dreamt of such an offense even a thousand years ago, but even a queen must sometimes put her honor behind other concerns.”

“It’s a different world,” I agreed.

“One rarely to my liking, but I adapt as I must.”

“What’s going on here?” asked Zala.

“Serket is working with the Brain,” I said.

“And just when did you deduce this? Before or after we walked into the trap?”

“On the flight over here.”

“And you couldn’t bother letting me know?”

“If I told you everything I know, you’d be terribly bored. So I leave out the little details. For your entertainment.”

Zala moved in a whirl. I wasn’t paying attention to the details, but by the end of it, she had a spear in each hand, and the guards were all on the floor, either dead or close enough not to worry about.

“Thanks for your consideration, Emperor.”

A device mounted on the coliseum walls was the source of the spotlight. A single candle, amplified and filtered through a scope containing crystalline prisms, was all that was required to interfere with my exo. The nature of the science eluded me, like most Dynasty technology. I’d have loved to study the device, if only for a glimpse of forgotten science, but Serket wasn’t one to share her secrets with the outside world, and I had more than enough secrets of science to explore without pressing the issue, even when I ruled Terra.

Zala hurled a spear. It arced beautifully and pierced Serket in the chest. The queen grunted, leaned back in her throne while a pair of handmaidens wrenched it free.

“How terribly uncouth,” said Serket.

Zala shrugged. “Had to try.”

“You could try for the spotlight,” I said.

She threw another spear. It clanged against the spotlight’s cast iron exterior, and the blue light flickered.

Zala prepared to hurl another spear, when a door on the other side of the arena opened and a monstrous arachnid lumbered forth. The purple-and-yellow behemoth, easily thirty tons, with pincers that could snap a full-grown snarglefot in half, plodded sleepily.

“She really loves scorpions,” said Zala.

The monster shook itself alert. It focused its many deep black eyes on us.

“Could you take care of this for me,” I asked. “I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.”

Zala drew her sword. Without any hesitation, she charged the great beast.

I turned my attention to Serket. “How long have you been working for the Brain?”

She spoke, but kept her eyes on the battle. “Always so eager for knowledge. It’s one of the things I do so love about you. I was always rather fond of you. Shame that I must kill you now.”

The arena rumbled, and the scorpion howled. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the unsteadied beast swaying as Zala did something to cause it to fall back a step. Stabbing it in some creative place, I assumed.

“It’s been, oh I don’t know, a few years now,” said Serket. “Time becomes…vague when one’s immortal. But it was well before I met you, Emperor. Before you even arrived on Terra. He wasn’t just a brain then, of course. But he was mortal and knew he must live on. For the greater good, as he liked to say.”

“He can’t have been the first to approach you for the secrets of immortality.”

“Most certainly not. There have been others. I tell them what I tell all. The secrets of my fountain are not mine to give. Drinking the undying water grants long life, but the effect varies among individuals. Only I have been given true immortality. A quirk perhaps? A gift from the gods? Who can say? This didn’t discourage him. He said the waters were all he needed, that he could decipher their secrets on his own. So I let him have a few drops to experiment with.”

“I’m surprised you let him have any.”

The scorpion growled, and Serket clapped her hands. “Oh my, very good.”

I glanced at the fight. Zala was astride the monster’s back. She’d speared out half its eyes and sliced off two legs. It was now trying to shake her loose, but she clung to her sword, buried in its back.

“And it worked?” I asked Serket.

A servant offered her another date, but she waved him away. The giant scorpion fell hard to the floor, squirming on its back as Zala dashed around, looking for a fresh vulnerable spot.

“And it worked?” I asked again.

“What worked?”

“The Brain found a way to use the water?”

She sighed, paused for another throat moistening.

“I suppose. In some manner.”

“I’m surprised you let him have the water in the first place.”

She waved her hand. “He was very persuasive. One so rarely meets interesting individuals. Though I have lived countless lifetimes, such curious brilliance is an infrequent thing.”

“You never let me take a look at the water.”

Serket ran a delicate finger down her cheek. “You never asked.”

It had never occurred to me. I’d just assumed it was out of the question. It was little mistakes like this that both annoyed and amused me. I didn’t like slipups, especially obvious ones, but if I were truly infallible there wouldn’t have been a point in doing anything. It was only in those small moments of uncertainty that I found the challenges that kept me engaged.

“Could I have a sample now?” I asked.

She leaned forward, clasped her hands.

“No.”

I heard the scorpion beast’s death rattle. Or thought I did. But the monster wasn’t dead, only wounded and frightened. It skittered backward on its six legs, covered its cephalothorax with its claws, and cowered from Zala.

“Interesting,” said Serket. “You do keep the most unique company, Emperor.”

Zala sheathed her sword.

“Aren’t you going to finish it off?” asked Serket.

“There’s no glory in killing harmless beasts.”

Serket nodded to a servant, who sounded the gong. The arena doors opened again, and packs of merely wolf-sized scorpions charged toward us. But chains around tails restrained them to a dozen feet away.

“She
really
likes scorpions,” said Zala, drawing her sword again.

“There’s no need for that,” said Serket. “Lay down your weapon, and exit the arena peacefully. You have my word that no harm shall come to you.”

“You expect us to believe you’re letting us go?” asked Zala.

Serket laughed. “Nothing of the sort. I’m only granting you a moment of respite until I can determine an amusing way to get rid of you.”

“Lay down your sword,” I said.

“Are you mad, Emperor?” asked Zala. “I’m the only thing standing between you and death.”

“You’re a fine warrior, Zala. But even you can’t stand against that. If she wanted us dead, she wouldn’t ask you to disarm.”