Metal Swarm - Kevin J. Anderson [231]
'Practice it well before you deliver it. It’s-an important address.’
Aren’t they all important, Mr Chairman?'
'Of course they are.’
Muttering to himself, the Archfather retreated from Basil’s offices, leaving him alone with the deputy. 'I understand these things, Mr Cain. In order to generate truly significant religious fervor - which is what I need - the Hansa requires a charismatic religious leader. Our well-heeled Archfather simply cannot fill that role. He is too tame. We need a new King to lead under the aegis of Unison. You see, the people are directionless, hungry for a real monarch again. He will be our saviour.' He pressed a button to summon the candidate he had kept in isolation for so long. ’I’ve been planning this for quite some time.'
Basil had interviewed the young man extensively, gone over his training scores, and finally determined that he was ready and fully cooperative. It was time.
Captain McCammon marched in, leading a dark-haired Prince with brown eyes and a facial structure that looked hauntingly familiar - an echo of King Peter’s features, the same chin, the same brow. Basil had intentionally requested that the hair not be doctored, the eyes not be recoloured. The Chairman wanted their Prince, their new King, to look exactly as Peter would expect him to.
Deputy Cain stood up, trying to place the young man in his proper context.
'This is our new Prince, whom the Archfather will crown as soon as possible. We’ll introduce him to the population of Earth and send messages far and wide, even to representatives of the Confederation on Theroc’
The young man properly extended a hand to shake Cain’s.
'I want you to meet King Rory.’ Basil allowed himself a smile. 'Peter will know exactly who he is.’
One hundred and forty-three
Davlin Lotze
He was still bleeding - and still breathing - as the Klikiss warriors dragged him to the hall of the new breedex.
Davlin continued to struggle, because he did not know how to give up. He felt a sense of resignation rather than despair. Giddy from the loss of blood, he realized dully that his left leg was broken, along with a few ribs. The sharp pain that came with every deep breath told him that something was hurt very badly inside him.
The Klikiss pulled Davlin into the dim and vaulted room. The breedex’s chamber reminded him of the stinking lair of a dragon. But he was no knight in shining amour. He could barely crawl. Davlin thrashed again, tried to pull himself free. The blood on his arms and back made him slippery, and the warriors had to clamp down harder with the claws on their jagged forelimbs.
One of the huge new domates loomed beside the entrance. Though the creature still had prominent tiger stripes, its body was different from the previous generation, subtly altered to be more human, though no more sympathetic. When another swollen domate lumbered into the chamber, then two more, Davlin realized what was about to occur.
The Llaro breedex had won the recent clash, and the victorious domates had spent hours gorging themselves, walking the battlefield and acquiring genetic material from the rival breedex’s soldiers. Now, all eight domates were splattered with ichor, their jaws, carapaces, and limbs crusted with dried fluids.
To win the ongoing hive wars, the Llaro breedex needed to vastly increase its numbers - again. Though the last fissioning had occurred only recently, after the previous domates consumed the Llaro colonists, the next wave of Klikiss matured rapidly, devouring every available scrap of food in the ever-expanding hive complex. The new breedex had bloated and expanded at an extraordinary rate, and now needed to continue its geometric expansion.
And Davlin would be part of it. The warriors dumped him unceremoniously just inside the chamber. The striped domates dragged him across the rough floor, leaving a fresh trail of blood.
Then he saw the breedex.
The hive