Chasing Cthulhu (Urf Oomons #2)

Baht finds us in the Medbay.

I have known Baht for spans. He was the very first person we established a trade relationship with when we left Homeworld 2. My crewmates and I had no experience with people outside of our own species. We could not know how strange Baht is. That it was not normal that he kept himself covered by a bulky cloak at all times. It was strange and suspicious that he spoke only Urglassi. Urglassi are tiny, winged people. Now we know, it is obvious to us that it’s not his native language.

Looking at him, towering over me and hissing in rage, I do not understand how I could have been so completely tricked. How did he fold those long, bony legs up under his cloak? How could this being who is twice as tall as me squish himself up so small?

Seven suspected it. I do not know how he figured it out. I remember being incredulous when he suggested to me that our trade partner could be a bloodthirsty, bestial Arana-Vora. Even though I knew his arguments made sense, I could not take him seriously.

Arana-Voras are dangerous for two reasons. The first and most obvious is that their diet consists of sentient creatures consumed live. They do not have to eat often, they can go spans and spans without and survive. But they are always hungry. Even if they have just eaten, even as they are eating, they are starving. An Arana-Vora will never be sated from any meal. Also, they are notoriously difficult to kill. They do not require implants because they have a natural affinity for the AI systems that run ships. They can overcome fail-safe, bypass security measures, and it has even been theorized that they can interfere with the neural implants all travelers have. How can you defend yourself against something with no weakness? How can I keep myself and Gloria safe from this starving, enraged monster?

“Where is she?” The beast hisses in my face in his native language. No longer the melodious whistles of Urglassi, this is the nerve-grinding Voranish chitter.

I try to hold myself with dignity. If this is how I am to die, consumed by this fiend, I will not scream or cower. I will not abase myself before one who deceived me and pretended to be an honorable friend when he is truly a Void-sent monster.

“She is in the regen tank.” I gesture toward his human with one tentacle. “Her heart had stopped beating. She had not taken a breath in—”

He slides past me to the tank and braces two forelimbs against the clear plexi-shield, obviously ignoring me.

I had planned to wait a few hours until that human had recovered. Assisted by regen goop, it should not even take that long. Then I would put Gloria in the tank. Her ears are injured. I observed bloody fluid leaking from them. And her eyes were leaking some sort of water.

While Baht has his back to me, I worry over whether Gloria and I are safer with him, or should I break for another part of the ship? Maybe I can find another regen tank, some ships have two.

“Can you—” Baht starts in chittering Voranish. He pauses, seems to collect himself, and continues in whistling Urglassi, “Lu, would you please go and retrieve a cloak for me?”

I receive an image via my neural implant, it’s a map instructing me to go to the industrial fabricator in a storage bay and retrieve a cloak that Baht has printed up. As reluctant as I am to displease Baht, and as much as I would like to see his monstrous form covered, I cannot.

I wave one tentacle toward Gloria. “She is unwell. I do not want to jostle her at all. And what if I encounter drones?”

“The drones will not interfere with us.”

I just take in that mysterious statement. There must be thousands of Seereechee drones on this ship. I heard that it only takes two hours to grow a Seereechee, that they aren’t hatched or birthed but grown in vats. And a ship like this, well there is every reason to assume it is fully staffed.

He sees my disbelief and explains, “I am controlling the drones now.”

I do not believe it and he can tell, so he goes on to explain.

“You know that my kind can only consume sentient life forms? Have you ever wondered why that is?”

Shrugging all my tentacles except the one holding Gloria, I answer, “Is it not a simple preference?”

“No. An Arana-Vora is changed by what he consumes. When one of my kind goes about consuming dumb animals they lose their sentience and intelligence. They will quickly become animalistic themselves, and for the good of all life in the universe, that cannot be allowed to happen. Can you imagine something as dangerous as I, being ruled by only hunger and aggression?”

I recoil in horror.

“I see that you understand.”

He caresses a forelimb down the plexi-shield, following the line of the Earth-Human’s face.

“They put this poor, sick little female into the cage with me because they knew I was starving to death. I have not consumed a meal in thirty spans and was at the end of my life. That was fine. I am not a good person. My life is not worth more than anybody else’s and I doubt a single person in this universe will mourn my loss.”

What do I say to this? I have always liked Baht, and even though I have learned this terrible truth about him I still consider him a friend. But who would I sacrifice to save him? Everybody knows that Seereechee drones are not sentient and therefore unfit for an Arana-Vora to consume.

“So they tried to feed her to me. Idiots! It ruined my whole plan. Lu, it was a masterful plan to get myself sold to Seereechees at a slave market and then infiltrate their ship’s systems and figure out—”

He interrupts himself with a frustrated sigh and continues.

“But I could not just let her die, you understand that, right?”

I nod, though I do not understand.

“She was ill from the start, but they would not give her any food or water. They would not take her to a medbay. They said it would be a waste! The heartless bastards!”

I have to ask, “A Seereechee drone said this to you?”

“No,” he looks at me like I am the incomprehensible one. “The Shentfer traders.”

Ugh. Gross. Shentfers are awful, unhygienic pirates and scavengers.

“Those Seereechees folded us directly from the trade grounds.”

To travel long distances, a fold in space must be created. A ship will enter the fold at the point of origin, then exit the fold in the same moment at their destination.

“How do you mean? Was your shuttle pre-programed—””

“You misunderstand,” he interrupts. “We did not fold from our end. The Seereechees created an inverted fold that pulled us through. No shuttle, no protective gear. Just bodily pulled us through.”

I gape at him. This is unheard of. How can anyone survive?

At that moment, a Seereechee drone enters the room.

I sweep Gloria’s unconscious body behind me and grab the drone to snap its neck in a practiced, fluid motion.

As it falls to the floor, a piece of fabric comes unfolded from its lifeless arms.

It’s a cloak.

Baht kicks the corpse away, snatches the cloak and dons it. His long legs fold and adjust tightly to his body and he is the trader I know again. Shorter than I, all covered and bundled with only his eyes showing.

“You do not need to worry about the drones on this ship,” he states calmly. “They are under my control.”

I do not know what to say to this. Perhaps he has gone mad.

“All Seereechee drones are controlled remotely,” he explains.

“Yes,” I agree. “By a Seereechee Queen. Baht, are you telling me you think you are a Seereechee Queen?”

He huffs a laugh and says, “Almost.”

I cover my face with my clawed hands. This is too much. Baht is too dangerous to be crazy on top of it. How can I be expected to deal with this deteriorating situation?

“Lu, listen, you were there,” he tells me. “You saw me consume their Queen.”

I recoil from him and ask for clarification, “That thing? That wall in the room was…”

“Well, it was not the whole queen, just the most important part. I was surprised to learn that Seereechee queens are a quarter the size of their ships and reside at the very center.”

“How— What? How did you learn this?”

“By accessing the ship maintenance schedules.”

This is too much. I can only deal with so much and the idea that Baht, an Arana-Vora, is now a Seereechee Queen? It is too ridiculous! It makes no sense!

“By consuming their queen, I took on the hive-mind aspect of a Seereechees lived experience.” He gestures toward the dead drone. “Here is an example. I wanted a cloak and this drone brought it. I did not order them to. I did not think ‘I need a drone to bring me a cloak.’ When I asked you to retrieve the cloak, the drone acted as an extension of my will and brought it.”

“Apologies for killing your drone,” I offer.

He just shrugs.

I take a fortifying breath “All of this explaining was to say that these drones are no longer a threat. They work for you.”

“Exactly.”

“And you are no longer dying of starvation because you consumed their queen?”

“Yes.”

“So this ship and everything on it now belongs to you.”

He tilts his head in agreement.

“What are you going to do with all of those females?”

His whole body gives a start, and his glowing red eyes widen. “I had forgotten about them.”

“You should release them.”

“Yes. Of course. I am not a slaver, Lu.” He huffs again.

“You did not absorb that aspect?”

“No! I am still,” he shakes his head, “I am myself. I take on the abilities, not the personality.”

“I am glad.”

I do not believe him. He already told me that Arana-Voras are changed by what they consume.

He walks over to the wall and a cabinet pops open so he can retrieve something from inside. It’s an injecting device.

“What are you doing with that?” I ask.

“Assisting your human,” he replies as he fills the injector with regen goop then hands it to me. “Put some on the outer and inner area affected. It should be enough to heal her injuries in a few moments.”

Gloria’s ears are like tiny little funnels. Applying the goop is easy.

“A shuttle is being assembled to ferry all of the humans back down to their planet.”

“All of them?” I ask.

“Well, not this one.” He gestures toward the regen tank. “I will return her if she asks, but she needs care so she can recover from her ordeal.”

I wave toward Gloria. “That is true for this one as well.”

He tilts his head, assuming a perplexed attitude. “She is already recovered.”

I am sure he is correct, but… “She might be recovered physically, but she has been through a terrible ordeal. She needs to recover emotionally.” I am making up this argument as I go. I just want to keep her with me.

“You will help her recover emotionally?” he asks. “You feel qualified to do this? More qualified than her fellow humans?”

“Yes,” I lie. He lets it go.