Ascending - James Alan Gardner [49]
“Maybe,” said Lajoolie, “my talented husband will discover he has telekinetic powers that can hold the Shaddill at bay.”
“Maybe our enemies will get eaten by giant glass butterflies,” I said sharply. “This game is a waste of time! We should take evasive action.”
“We will,” Uclod said, “as soon as it’ll do us any good. When the Shaddill get close enough to grab us, we’ll stay out of their clutches as long as possible.” He laughed without humor. “It’s not like I want to get caught, missy…but we’re bare-ass in space with nowhere to hide for a few trillion klicks in any direction. We don’t have weapons, we don’t have friends, and we don’t have a lot of options. Run or surrender: pick one.”
“Hmmph,” I said. “I made a very bad choice when I decided to accompany you.”
“Do you think so?” Lajoolie asked. “On Melaquin, the Shaddill ship appeared right above your city. They recognized your name; they knew you were supposed to be dead. When they heard you were alive, they said someone had interfered with their plan. It sounds like they wanted to use you for something. Or at least use your corpse. If they’d landed and found you still breathing, what do you think they would do?”
I had not considered the situation in such a light…but Lajoolie was correct. It seemed quite plausible the Shaddill had been heading for Oarville to carry out some plan involving my dead body. Perhaps that explained why the Pollisand took me from the Tower of Ancestors and gave me medical attention after my fall: as the Shaddill’s enemy, he could somehow foil their plans by keeping me alive.
I should have asked about that. I should have asked him many questions. But he rudely terminated our conversation as soon as I agreed to his proposal, so I did not have time to inquire about topics of personal relevance. If the Pollisand returned now, I would ask how my life and/or death concerned the Shaddill…and why he was not helping us in our current predicament. The Pollisand had bragged of his superiority to other species, yet he was conspicuously absent now that the Shaddill were at close range.
As for the Shaddill themselves—if they had arrived on Melaquin and discovered I was not yet a corpse, would they have endeavored to make me one? I did not know…but however they reacted, I probably would not have enjoyed it. Perhaps it was better I had boarded Starbiter, rather than getting caught on the ground. At least I was still alive and free.
And perhaps the Shaddill captain would fall in love with me. It was high time somebody did.
Cat And Mouse…And Another Cat
We flew on. The stick-ship edged ever closer.
It was very most frustrating not to do anything. From the odd perspective of the far-seeing devices, we seemed to be sitting still, just waiting for our doom. But could we shoot at the enemy? No. Could we call for help? No. Could we even scream at our pursuers, cursing them with vile obscenities? Yes we could, but the Shaddill would not hear; they were jamming our broadcasts, so they would not receive any taunts I might transmit.
All I could do was glare at the alien ship, hoping if I hated them strongly enough, they would explode. This never works, but one must try it anyway—one feels it ought to work if your loathing is sufficiently sincere.
After several minutes of the enemy closing upon us, I decided the trick might lie in not looking at them. If I turned my eyes away and refused the tiniest glance in their direction, maybe the Shaddill would simply cease to exist. This was no more plausible than my previous plan, but I was weary of staring at sticks; so I aimed my gaze directly opposite, toward blank blackness and stars…only to find that the blackness was not completely blank.
Far off in the distance, I could see a small object—not like a star but a minuscule bone, a tiny knuckle from a baby mouse’s toe. I held my breath, not daring to speak for fear it would vanish…but it remained in sight as my heart pounded out a beat of ten. The distant object might even have grown by a hair. Another ten count, and I