27. Manipulator Skargath

27

Manipulator Skargath

The Asheraah search parties grow troublesome. They know I am here. Morthrix, the pathetic maggot, likely broke under the promise of torture.

Fool.

Better he died in that cell than I. But soon, the virus will shed its final bloom, and I will deliver this vessel, and the human prize, to our Hive.

Glory to the Hive, and Glory to the one whose service is true.

The song of my glory will hum through the walls and floors of the Great Hive. I will drink the honey of the Queens' favor. My spawn will be cared for, the Hive itself treasuring their skill in manipulation and infiltration.

I am the most skilled, the most powerful. The others, the fools, will be but shadows in the reflection of my legacy. But first, I must ensure the female and I escape. And this ship will not yet go into shutdown, not yet.

Opening the container, I smell the putrefying flesh of those whose identities we stole. Even frozen, the decay makes the meat stronger in taste than I like, but I kneel beside the freshest corpse, a healer technician, and eat.

On the other side of the container, the female screams, struggling against her bindings. I ignore her. The ship's systems have this bay showing as depressurized, and the ship's system has alerted me of the incoming inspection squads on the three occasions they searched the cargo bay.

"Are you—? Eating…?" The human retches. I smile, the juices of my meal clinging to the second skin of the Masg whose form I have taken. I would rather shed this pathetic, Asheraahn skin now that I am al one, but better to be cautious. And it is anathema to allow one not of our kind to see our true form.

"Did you want some?" I ask, just to smell the spike of terror wafting from her skin.

"Why? Why do this?"

There is no harm in telling her. "Ambition. Glory. You can see our true form. Or something of it. We will know how you have done this. And when we learn, our safety is once again assured." I rise from my meal and start toward her. "Once the virus has finished its work, you will be helpless before us. Now, this will be easier if you tell me exactly what it is you see."

"I— I don't see anything."

"You do not need all of your fingers to be of use to me," I say. My mouth waters at the thought of taking one, fresh with her blood, and swallowing it down. "An appetizer, as they say."

The female screams. I smile, advancing. Glory is important, but I have worked hard, and I deserve some small reward now.

I am too focused on my prize to note the light thump behind me until the Asheraah crashes into me, roaring.

Raiva Tan, is it?

Inconvenient, but I smell no others. Fool. He came alone. It will be good to finish this thing between us. In deference to that, I let my form melt and shift. When I rise, throwing him backward, I wear the form of his third, Subcommander Quayl.

"I thought you were dead," Tan growls. "Or are you just another insect wearing my Subcommander's face?"

The gall of him to compare me to one like Morthrix! Fury rises in a wave, and I lunge.

He evades.

"You are a fool, Raiva Tan. Your female is mine now. Your ship is ours. Your Janu are infected, and when your drive fails, our beacon will guide us here. But if you wish, fight me. You only prolong the inevitable."

Tan's gaze flicks to the female, and then back to me. His nostrils flare, and his wings flex, his muscles bunching. "You will die here. You will never have her or my ship. "

I am almost impressed with the bluster. His flesh will taste sweet on my tongue.

Then Tan charges me, claws extended.

Fool.

I am ready for this.

Ducking under his blow, I catch him by the wings, slamming him to the ground. He falls with a cry, and I raise my claws to deliver the blow—

But he twists, the female's screams echoing off the bulkhead as he grasps at my lower half with his upper.

He sweeps my legs from beneath me, and I land on my back. Tan has the advantage, and his claws slam down, missing my neck.

"Tan! Don't kill him!" the female screams, running toward us.

What foolishness is this? I whip out with my stinger tail, but the female throws herself on top of it. If I release the venom, it will damage our prize. We must know how she can see us. So I retract the stinger just as Tan's fist connects with my face, sending me sprawling.

Then he has his claws around my throat, the tips scraping against my carapace, feeling for the joints.

"Hold him!" the female shouts, and Tan maintains his grip, the pressure of it cutting my air as she places her palms on my bare shoulders. She shuts her eyes, and I hear a whisper in my mind.

Where is the beacon?

My mind flashes to the location, and I feel her glee.

A telepath? How? She gave no indication of this before, and her species is not known to have the ability. But my thoughts are not safe, not here.

"I know where the beacon is," the human says after too short a time. "And I think I have a code to disable the virus. But he got a message off to the Kohath."

How did she get so much from a simple touch?

I struggle, kicking and snapping, but the Raiva holds me fast and while we can survive without oxygen for a time, we do so by going into hibernation. I feel it coming over me as her questions batter at my unprotected mind.

It is almost a mercy when the Raiva snaps my neck.