A new chapter of Descent is here. With the fate of humanity (and some individual organics near and dear to our cybernetic characters) hanging in the balance, some preparations for Bathory’s reconnaissance mission have to be made. Both machine and Naiad are looking for different things at the end of it and neither are going to entrust what they see as the only proper course of action to the others.
Fun times. I’m sure there’s nothing sinister about this.
Anyway, here’s a snippet of Tzu-hsi getting into Bathory’s ear. For the full chapter, check out the link above and enjoy!
~
<little one>
Bathory had many siblings, but the first five hundred years of a Naiad’s life were perilous. It was when they were at their weakest. Rival packs or other void predators would target them to weaken their pack and deplete the ranks of the next generation. Young Naiads also served as escorts and tenders for their older siblings, packmates and monarchs and simple attrition in battle weighted the casualties towards them rather than the larger, more powerful predator-ships. Death at the claws of one’s own siblings and peers was uncommon, but neither was it unheard of. It could from arguments and grudges that spun into fratricide or as a means to remove a rival, whether real, potential or even imagined. Older siblings might not want their position challenged by an up-and-comer and take steps to eliminate any younger kin that showed a bit too much promise.
Between conflicts within and outside the pack, few young Naiads ever survived to become monarchs in their own right. When one did, they were viewed with great respect and admiration. Bathory’s elder sister Shadow of a Dead Star / Spreading Cold and Death / A Darkness that Devours, known in deadtone language as Tzu-hsi, was everything the adolescent aspired to be. It would take her more than a thousand years as insects regarded time, but that was one thing Naiads had in abundance.
If she survived.
<yes, │┬└?> Bathory asked.
A flash of green tinged the larger predator-ship’s prow. An abbreviated title-name was used by close friends and family, equals and those higher in station to those below. <careful, │┬┘,> the elder sister admonished. <one mission doesn’t make you a consul>
Bathory didn’t apologize, though she did briefly tamp down her power signature in a gesture of submission. Nonetheless, she was also quick to correct her sister. <three,> she announced, like the banging of an ice asteroid against a hull plate. <three,> she repeated, accompanying that gestalt feeling with underlying memory loops of serving as the Spearsong’s protective detail, being given the role of emissary to seek out her sister’s pack and now being accepted to carry out this mission. <they call upon us – upon me> she added with no small amount of pride <to fulfill tasks that their corpse-constructs cannot>
The sensor pulse from Tzu-hsi that followed that declaration was as relatable to other species as a patronizing pat on the head. <of course, little one> Tzu-hsi agreed. <but this not a ‘task’. you are not being asked to scout ahead of the pack, to carry a message or even escort the Spearsong in battle. this is a mission that those much older than you would not take on>
<then they are weak>
The flash of green across Tzu-hsi’s narrowed prow was both brighter and a hundred meters wider. <don’t let confidence become arrogance, │┬┘> she admonished. <i don’t merely speak of capability. arrogance clears a path to a fool’s death. you’ve never faced the Parasite. i have. │┬┌ has. the Spearsong has. she knows how dangerous they are, even if she refuses to admit it now>
<ah,> Bathory said, tilting fifty degrees to her port axis and then fifty to her right. <and you want to remind me of this>
~
My Patreon / subscribestar / twitter
Proximal Flame's Fiction 