Second Don: Ardulum, Book 2 Read online

  Zie glanced over zir shoulder and was surprised to find Miketh lying next to zir on the bed. Ekimet nudged her, attempting to rouse her from sleep. Miketh made no sound but her eyes flew open at Ekimet’s touch, her mouth dropping open as she too surveyed their room.

  Ekimet watched Miketh for a moment and then swung zir legs off the edge of the bed, feet smacking onto the cool wood floor. Except there wasn’t a smack. Confused, Ekimet stood and experimentally tapped zir left foot against the wood. Soundless. That was strange. Andal floors squeaked—it was one of their features.

  Miketh’s hand clasped Ekimet’s shoulder. Zie spun around to see Miketh’s wide eyes, her lips moving but no sound coming from them. Ekimet tried to respond, felt the vibrations in zir throat from the effort of speaking, but could hear nothing. There were no sounds at all—not from birds or wind outside, nor from either of the Ardulans.

  Ekimet noticed, then, the fine trail of dried blood that framed either side of Miketh’s face. Zie took Miketh’s chin gently in hand and turned her head to the right, tracing the origin point back to her inner ear. Reaching up and patting zir own cheek, Ekimet confirmed the presence of blood.

  The sounds the Mmnnuggls made, Miketh sent into Ekimet’s mind. Ruptured our ear drums. She shrugged her shoulders to indicate that it was a question, not a statement.

  Ekimet shrugged back. We need a Science Talent—someone with healing.

  Miketh nodded her assent. She looked around the room again, scanning the contents, before pointing at the writing sheets. No computer, just paper. She took several quick, fluid strides to the door and tried to open it. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.

  We’re prisoners, Ekimet sent. Best to wait and see what they want with us.

  Miketh frowned. Or we could try to escape. She pointed at the window. Together, the two walked over and peered over the ledge. Much to Ekimet’s dismay, the ground was barely visible from their height. Further obstructing their view were thin wisps of white clouds floating several stories below. Escape via window was clearly not an option.

  Ekimet tapped Miketh’s shoulder and pointed at the paper and pen. Eventually, they’ll have to see us. Since they’ve provided a means of communication, I say we use it.

  Miketh nodded in assent. The Ardulans strode back across the room, the floor still cool under their bare feet, and sat at opposite ends of the writing desk. Ekimet took the blood pen and began to scratch out characters in High Uklam.

  Oorpp et al.,

  We, your Ardulan compatriots, request information as to our capture and containment. While you clearly articulated your disdain for the current political climate, my companion and I are unable to adequately address your concerns while sequestered. In addition, we appear to have suffered some physical injuries during your rally, which should be seen by a Science Talent as soon as possible.

  We request that you inform us, via writing as our hearing is currently impaired, of your needs so that we may relay them to our government. We would also request some form of communication device to achieve the aforementioned goal, as well as to secure an appointment with a healer.

  Respectfully yours,

  Ekimet, second-don Hearth, diplomat

  Miketh, third-don Mind, pilot and xenoculturalist

  Ekimet handed the finished letter off to Miketh, who quickly scanned the text. When she finished, Miketh placed the paper gently down onto the table and looked up at Ekimet. The Hearth Talent could tell she was doing her best not to laugh, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching.

  Perhaps this is not the best…tone to take, Miketh suggested. I don’t think fancy language is going to win them over.

  Ekimet gave her a miffed look. Zie rolled the blood pen across the table and slid a fresh sheet towards Miketh, indicating that she should write a letter as well. Miketh accepted both tools and sat back in the wood chair, tapping the pen on the edge of the desk and contemplating for several moments. Ekimet watched silently, amused.

  It should be short and to the point, I think. No flowery words—no niceties. Ggllot is under Ardulan rule. Kidnapping diplomats is generally not a negotiable offense. Miketh puffed her cheeks in mild agitation before leaning forward and settling over the paper. She quickly scratched some words down, using High Uklam like Ekimet, but spent far less time on the script.

  Your actions towards us are unacceptable. There will not be enough left of your little, round bodies for the Eld to investigate if we are not immediately released. Consider your actions carefully, or consider how fast a Mind Talent can find weaknesses in squishy, inflated objects. Your choice.

  Ekimet read the short note and raised an eyebrow. Very…to the point, zie sent. We can give them both, perhaps.

  Miketh opened her mouth to respond but was cut off when shadows spilled across the floor. They both turned to see that the door was open. Three Mmnnuggls floated inside, stacked in a column and rotating slowly.

  The Mmnnuggls stopped one meter from the Ardulans and separated, expanding outwards to encase them in a triangle formation. Ekimet held out the papers. The Mmnnuggl in front of Ekimet moved forward until its front just touched the first piece of paper. Their long, vertical mouth opened and began to suck in air at an alarming rate. The papers ripped out of Ekimet’s hand and disappeared inside the Mmnnuggl. The mouth slit closed quickly, shutting off its “vacuum” and leaving Ekimet wondering if the sphere had eaten the papers, or if this was some new form of processing written information that Ekimet had never heard of.

  A second Mmnnuggl floated towards the Ardulans as the first backed away. This one got closer to Miketh, and its slow approach caused her to back up against the Hearth, who placed a reassuring hand on her arm. Again, this one’s mouth slit opened, although instead of creating a vacuum, a wet, sticky wad of paper shot out of the opening and promptly stuck to the front of Miketh’s flight suit.

  A shudder ran through Miketh as her disgust seeped into Ekimet’s mind. The expulsion of the wet paper mixing with the faint odor of the janu fruit turned Ekimet’s stomach as well.

  Slowly, as if unsure what she should do, Miketh peeled the paper from her front and straightened it out. The script was faint and black, but—looking over her shoulder—Ekimet could make out that the lettering was also High Uklam.

  Miketh took a moment to read the paper and then handed it to Ekimet, the edges tearing in the transfer as they stuck to her fingers. Ekimet held the paper as far away from zirself as possible and read the text.

  You are our prisoners. All communication panels within this room have been disabled. Your personal auditory sensors have been disabled. The Mmnnuggl government is now under our control. Oorpp wears the late president and has taken control of her office.

  You two will have no more interaction with Ardulum, and the Mmnnuggls are breaking their ties to your homeworld. We will no longer serve a species that does not fulfill its promises. You are not gods—you are merely magicians. If your Eld choose to ransom you, you will be released. If not, you will be killed. Until such time as a response is received from your homeworld, you will not be harmed. This room was designed solely for the visiting Eld. You will be comfortable. Food will be brought at regular intervals. Do not make us regret our decision to keep you alive.

  Ekimet folded the now dry and crusty paper in half and nodded to the nearest Mmnnuggl. Zie didn’t recognize these three from the mob, but judging from their nervous rotations, the idea of incarcerating Ardulans, even in what was undoubtedly the nicest facility on Ggllot, was probably unpalatable to them. That potentially meant that these particular Mmnnuggls would be easier to negotiate with.

  “What ransom are you demanding? Currency? Ships? Raw goods? Miketh and I might be able to meet your request without involving the Eld.” Ekimet hoped zir words were loud enough. Speaking without hearing was surprisingly unsettling

  The Mmnnuggls were still for several seconds, contemplating a response. Without any warning, another wad of paper shot out and hit Ekimet’s forehead.

&
nbsp; Your offer has been considered and rejected. Material goods are not of interest. Our ships are superior to yours. We will trade your lives only for other Ardulans. Your species has precedent for this with the Risalians.

  Miketh covered her mouth with her hand. They want flares? Of all the stupid demands! They’re better off with us.

  I would prefer to not encourage that line of thinking, Ekimet responded sourly. It was nice to know, however, what the catalyst was for all of this. The Risalians’ success with reversing many of the safeguards genetically integrated into the flares they were sold was admirable, if ultimately responsible for the recent war in the Charted Systems. Corccinth had served her entire adult life on the Eld’s advisory panel for flare studies. Ekimet was very well versed in the politics of the subject.

  Out loud and as best zie could, Ekimet said, “We appreciate your sharing of information. We hope you receive the outcome you most desire in this matter, and thank you for your accommodation.”

  That seemed to please the Mmnnuggls. They restacked and backed out of the door, rotating laterally. When the door shut, Miketh turned to face Ekimet, a look of irritation on her face.

  I have no idea what to think of this situation, she sent. The Eld are likely to consent, and we are very well taken care of prisoners. Escape, at this point, might be counterproductive.

  Ekimet nodded. There hadn’t been any new breakthroughs in flare research in almost half a century. The population in the detention centers was overflowing. A few flares in exchange for us shouldn’t be hard to accomplish.

  Zie walked over to the large bay window and peered down, attempting to estimate how many meters they were off the ground. One hundred? Four hundred? The Eld suite was housed in the governmental sphere, not far from where the mob had captured them. Ekimet couldn’t quite remember where in the sphere the suite was supposed to be, but knew they couldn’t be more than several floors from the governmental head offices.

  Clever, Miketh sent, joining Ekimet at the window. Keeping us close to the president’s office. Who’d think to look here, if they were looking at all?

  Ekimet nodded, glad that Miketh had a better memory for schematics than zie did.

  I bet cleaning staff have to come in here all the time, Miketh continued. They have to keep fresh andal going in on the off chance the Eld do show up. No suspicion will be raised when Mmnnuggls keep coming and going, although I do wonder how they got us in here with no one seeing.

  Ekimet shrugged. After months of struggling with an unwilling populace and being constantly bullied about zir sex, Ekimet didn’t mind the forced vacation. Looking around the room, zie noticed the bookshelves, the wall console that controlled the door, and again, the still-steaming pot of andal. There were definitely far worse ways to spend time as a captive, Ekimet thought as zie settled down into a plush chair and popped a fresh andal twig into zir mouth. Zie grabbed a book at random from a shelf behind zir head and opened to the middle, skimming the pages.

  Miketh plucked the book from Ekimet’s hands and gave her counterpart a sharp look. Now isn’t the time for reading, she said, placing the book back on the shelf. She took hold of Ekimet’s sleeve, pulled zir back over to the table and chairs, and gently pushed zir to sit.

  What would you prefer? Ekimet asked, amused. I can recite all ninety-seven Ardulan subspecies in alphabetical order, and I can peel a janu fruit in under ten seconds. Either of those sound appealing?

  I want a contingency plan, Miketh returned. Posh or not, if the situation changes, we have to be ready.

  With a long sigh, Ekimet nodded. All right, let’s plan. Can we keep our potential escape to the higher floors of this building, by any chance? The farther away we can stay from the smell of janu fruit, the better.

  Chapter 10: Xinar Hub, Xinar System

  What do you think? Worth investigating? I’ve never been outside the Alliance before. Maybe the Mmnnuggls and these Risalians have something interesting to say.

  —Shortband communication from Effin M’yin Erl to his husband, Krell M’yin Erl, Third Month of Arath, 26_15

  NICHOLAS TRAILED BEHIND Neek, Emn behind him, as Neek wove her way through aisles of rusting, dilapidated ships. As much as he might have thought that Effin had oversold Xinar Station as a high-end tourist mall when it was really more of a flea market, he knew better than to say anything about it. Neek was smiling and giddy with joy for the first time in weeks, which meant she wasn’t being awkward with Emn or acting like a complete nutjob. It was a welcome change.

  Besides, the shipyard was interesting. He’d studied old ships, of course, in secondary school history classes and in his elective electronics class. He’d even taken advanced placement exams in biometal engineering to prepare for his Youth Journey aboard a starship. That he’d ended up on one of Earth’s first shuttles—a ship so old it was mostly plastic and plain metal—had always been frustrating.

  Here, however…here he could put his education to use. At least one hundred ships were scattered across the warehouse floor, none new and all in various stages of disrepair. The last hour had been like a historical tour of space travel, with ship parts ranging from dilapidated wood frames to gleaming cellulosic plating, and everything in between. There were metals here he had never seen before and cellulose weaves varying from almost nonexistent to over eighty percent of the craft. He’d even seen some of the rare transition biometals, like the failed galactoglucomannan and xylan hemicellulose interweaves. Their use had been pretty short-lived in the Systems, since cellulose was such a better conductor. They’d been a step in the right direction though, and it was neat to get to run his hands over a piece of technological history.

  “What about that one?” Neek asked the transparent, gelatinous mass that was their sales representative. She pointed to what looked like a skiff soldered directly to another of the same model, both in desperate need of paint, shielding, and probably an engine. The external plating looked old and flat. Nicholas guessed petrochemical base, but couldn’t be sure unless he actually touched it.

  “Half,” the blob wheezed through a frayed, yellow stalk near the apex of its mass.

  Neek frowned and resumed walking.

  “What was wrong with that one?” Nicholas called out, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  Neek waved her hand dismissively. “Economics, Nick. The Kuebrich is worth twice that, and they already said they won’t pay the difference. I have never been in a position where I have too much capital, and I intend to— Oooh!” Neek took a sharp right. Nicholas sighed, tossing a small smile back at Emn as they ducked under the wing of another ship and followed Neek past a row of four Mmnnuggl pods so old that they had started to gray.

  “This one,” Neek breathed. She stopped and touched one finger gingerly to the peeling paint on an acorn-shaped ship reminiscent of Effin’s vehicle. As Neek silently walked around it, prodding here and there and muttering pleased sounds, Nicholas studied the design. It did look surprisingly like Effin’s, the longer he stared at it. The angles were the same, and the surface had a similar weave. Maybe an older model? Maybe Neek just liked curved ships.

  He reached out and peeled back a layer of paint. Underneath, the metal glistened in the overhead lighting. He licked his thumb and pressed it to the surface, pleased when the touch came back warm and tingly. “Cellulose-based,” he called out to Neek, though she likely already knew. “Should have speed and a decent computing system.”

  The salesblob spoke before Nicholas could continue his observations. “Saaaame,” they wheezed through their stalk. “Works. New motor.”

  Nicholas sincerely hoped “motor” was just a bad translation of “engine.”

  “Paint upgrade okay. Facility here,” Salesblob added.

  “Can we see inside?” Neek asked, her voice hushed as she danced slightly on her toes.

  Salesblob vibrated and then pitched forward. They elongated their stalk to what Nicholas found an alarming height, jiggled their transparent body, and then whacked the sid
e of the ship. An oval plank extended down, the edge just above the floor.

  “Fantastic!” Neek took several long steps and was inside the ship before Nicholas could ask about details. Salesblob followed closely behind.

  Nicholas felt a hand on his back and turned to see Emn grinning. “Come on,” she said as she moved past him and up the plank. “I want to check out the interface. It would be great if I didn’t have to be the sole pilot. Or a pilot at all, really.”

  Nodding, Nicholas followed her up. Despite its apparent smoothness, the metal was textured under his bare feet, providing ample traction. It was warm, too, which surprised him. Cellulose in the hull made sense. Cellulose in the ramp just seemed wasteful.

  “Do you think the pointy bit is a gun, or part of the cockpit?” he asked as they followed the sound of Neek’s excited voice through a circular entry room and into a corridor.

  Emn shrugged. “It’d be a waste of space for a cockpit, I would think. How badly do you want to know?” She tapped a finger against a wall as she walked past. “Effin gave me a small piece of andal on Keft, so I can take a peek if you want.”

  “No, it’s fine. Maybe we can check it out later if Neek decides it’s the one she wants.” They rounded a tight corner, and Nicholas had to stop abruptly to avoid hitting their sales rep. The blob, whose name and gender they still didn’t know, was standing in the round doorway. Through their body, Nicholas could make out a distorted outline of Neek bent over a computer interface.

  “You okay, Neek?” he called out, unsure how to politely maneuver around the blob.

  “Just checking the databases,” she called back, not looking up. “Interestingly, it has a Neek language option, which is making things easier.”