The Chronicles of Riddick - Alan Dean Foster [75]
Trailing metal, Aereon carefully made her way down the stairs in the company of an escort composed of Necromonger elite troops. Under their guidance she found herself steered toward a waiting warrior ship. She did not waste time and energy protesting her condition and treatment to those who obviously could not alter it.
Once secured in a room deep within the transport, her chains were removed. The interior was dimly lit, a condition favored by the Necromongers. As she began to come to grips with her new surroundings, a figure emerged from the darkness.
“Doesn’t it strike you odd?” Dame Vaako offered conversationally as she approached. She was smiling pleasantly, as did many carnivores before beginning to feed.
Aereon did not bother to respond. More aware than the majority of their species of the steady passing of time, Elementals were not inclined to waste it on games.
Her silence did not trouble Dame Vaako, who halted nearby. “I tell you, it’s quite interesting, some of the things that are happening. We do live in intriguing times. Here we have the current lord marshal engaged in the methodic slaughter and ruination of entire societies, the better to advance the faith. This demanding activity he directs without hesitation and with admirable thoroughness.” Her eyes locked on those of the other woman.
“Yet he cannot bring himself to kill one stranded Elemental. Afflicted as I am with something of a curious nature, I find myself asking: why not?” This time, when no response was forthcoming, she seemed disappointed. Not that she had really expected a willing and forthright explanation. So she changed the subject, at least for now.
“You don’t pray to our God. That is hardly a surprise. You pray to no God, I hear. That is not especially a surprise, either. My curiosity picking at me again, I suppose. What do you do instead? With what do you fill that void in human speculation?”
Aereon finally chose to respond. “Elementals—we calculate.”
Dame Vaako struggled to repress a smile. “Oh, don’t we all.”
Grasping the irony, the other woman took a moment to clarify. “Please be certain you understand what I am saying. We calculate the odds of future scenarios. Different ways in which the universe might balance itself. We are doing this constantly. But we always do so with a neutral eye. Given our historical position, it would be wrong to involve ourselves in the day-to-day affairs of others. We believe in letting the rest of humankind work out its own intersocietal relationships.” Her gaze met that of the much younger woman. “It would be immoral to impose ourselves and any opinions we might hold on other societies.”
Dame Vaako could repress her rising amusement but not her deeper feelings. Sarcasm bubbled up within her like oil in a polluted spring.
“Spare me any lofty protestations of principled indifference. You have as much interest in what is going on in the civilized portions of the galaxy as the governing council on the most populated world or the members of a miners’ cooperative on the most out-of-the-way moon. It is well-known that Elementals have their own agenda, their own design. Elementals don’t believe in God because they hope to be God.”
Their eyes locked. Neither blinked, neither looked away—but for a moment something new passed between them. Something kindred, perhaps, on a personal if not necessarily philosophical level.
It prompted Aereon’s curious query. “And what of you, Dame Vaako? Companion to the noted military commander Vaako himself. What do you hope to be? What are your wishes for the future? Not as a member of Necromonger society, but as an individual? What, for example, do you