This is the continuation of Chapter 7. It was so long I thought I'd better split it up.
Once again: Rayman (going under another name, but still the same guy) is © UbiSoft Entertainment. The rest is pretty much mine, except insofar as I've unconsciously stolen from all the clichés out there.
Chapter Seven: Hazing, Part 2
For the past two days, Anaconda had contented himself with simply sending Piranha out on pointless missions. He hadn't permitted the new recruit to come near the map table or even to hang around the room during any planning discussions. On the third day, however, late in the afternoon, when Piranha stumbled through the war room door at last after a six-hour series of detours, Anaconda came up to him with a broad smile that made Piranha glance at him warily.
"Getting to know the ship pretty well by now, I should think?" Anaconda said pleasantly.
"Uh-huh," muttered Piranha, absently. He was still panting a little, having lunged through the door only just ahead of a clump of attackers. He was considering how long they might continue to lie in wait for him out there, and exactly what would be the best method of exit from the room when he was sent off again.
"Very good," said Anaconda. By now all the officers had raised their heads from the discussion around the table to watch Anaconda and his pet. "So you know us better now. It's time for us to get more acquainted with you."
Piranha's gaze snapped onto him, all attention now.
Smiling, Anaconda took hold of a human slave who'd been darting about the room fetching maps, pencils, drinks. He yanked him into position to face Piranha from across the room.
"You made an error last time," smiled Anaconda sweetly. "But since after all you're just an ignorant country bumpkin, I'm going to give you another chance. Mind you, I don't give many second chances. –Now hit him."
Piranha glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Anaconda's last three words had come out as an abrupt snarl.
Piranha looked over at the slave, a young human-like being somewhat taller than himself, pale, with wild sandy hair, skinny, undernourished, and right now frozen with wide-eyed horror. He sighed.
Anaconda was glowering at him. He whipped his thin white stick through the air impatiently, pointing it at Piranha. "Have you forgotten already?" he hissed. "How you got here?"
Piranha looked at him quietly, then again at the slave. As the roomful of pirates watched with fascination, he took a deep breath, leaned back a little, and then flung forward a black-gloved fist. It shot across the room, striking the boy in the chest and sending him staggering backwards several steps, then flew swiftly back to its place.
Piranha had closed his eyes. The dead was stirring. Half-revived by his action, groping, stabbing blindly inside him; setting off such a torrent of painful emotion that he could scarcely breathe. It hadn't been a good idea to do that.
A low murmur was washing through the room. Anaconda strode over and grabbed Piranha by the collar, gave him a hard shake.
"Enough circus acts! You know I meant to use those fireballs of yours!" He threw Piranha away from him. Piranha staggered a little, recovered.
Anaconda pointed the whip at the slave. His eyes gleamed intensely. "Hit him now!"
Piranha took a long breath. He shook his head. "I can't," he muttered.
"You what?" said Anaconda slowly.
"I can't." He held out his hands to show the emptiness of his palms. It would have been physically impossible for him in any case to use an energy shot against that defenseless boy – for all the difference that made.
He didn't need to look at the surrounding pirates to sense the surge of disbelieving joy beginning to spark through them all. A very soft groan escaped him.
He could see what had just been done to him. He'd been executed. His single tiny psychological advantage in dealing with the pirates had been wiped out.
Anaconda, indeed, was grinning at him incredulously. "So it's true, then? Taking you away from your planet, you lost your powers? ... How unfortunate!"
Piranha didn't look at him. The room – the whole ship – felt like a vast predatory set of fangs about to snap.
He caught a glimpse of the young slave across the room from him. He was gazing at Piranha intently, with a touch of wonder – and sympathy. His eyes were a bright, catlike green. Piranha turned away as another painful twinge went through him.
The pirates were grinning at each other. Anaconda had folded his arms, the white stick wagging from one hand like a schoolteacher's pointer. He was gazing at the small black figure, his head tilted a little, his eyes glowing brightly, a restrained but relishing smile on his face.
Piranha's eyes closed again. His lips tightened, baring his teeth.
Hadn't a deal been made? Wasn't he doing everything possible to keep to it? And these fools had the nerve to play idiot, irresponsible games with the one and only reason for his existence? The only reason he was not now dead? The only reason he was enduring all this?
His breath came out in a slow, enraged hiss. His big fists clenched. His black eyes snapped open.
Anaconda was still watching him, one metal eyebrow raised.
Their eyes met. Anaconda's thin smile widened.
Still smiling, Anaconda let Piranha stay for the planning session this time. He sent the human slave away and gave Piranha the job of steward, filling the pirates' cups with the foul-smelling, greasy alcoholic substance both humans and robots consumed, and toting maps and markers from one end of the long table to the other. Silently, Piranha did as he was told. He didn't think it was pure egotism on his part that gave him the feeling that the pirates had a lot more attention on their small black-clad servant than on the discussions they were supposed to be having. There was a sense of anticipation in the room, as if everyone were waiting for a birthday party to begin. He grinned wryly. He didn't intend to become the piñata.
As the meeting went on, however, the officers became more absorbed in their arguments. Piranha, peering over their shoulders by standing on the sideboard where the bottles and cups were kept, or hopping onto a chair, took in the planetary maps with some curiosity.
Anaconda, whose temper had apparently improved, walked about, seeming to pay little attention to the talk, or sprawled casually in a chair. He didn't take part in the discussion; at most making the occasional inarticulate grunt, or tapping the table lightly with his stick. Which invariably resulted in an abrupt reversal of opinion in whoever had just spoken.
The discussion or rather dissension ebbed back and forth, over and over the same ground, rising to an ever higher pitch of irritation, never coming to any conclusion. The only practical result after some hours of growling and drinking seemed to be that the officers had all reached a state of mutual irritation and visible inebriation.
Piranha perched on the sideboard, watching the performance with increasing distaste.
"You see? We're going to have to avoid these big cities. Too many guns, too many police, armies, governments in big cities. Stay out in the boondocks, stay out of trouble." Blargh seemed to be mechanically reciting a catechism drilled into him in some remote past.
Hacker rolled his protruding metal eyes. "How many times do we have to go over this? There's a thousand times more plunder in a city. And what do you think they've got that can stand against this ship? We're not going up against a super technological civilization here. I say plunk ourselves down in the middle of the biggest burg and just keep shooting until they stop coming. Then we can saunter out and gather up what we want."
"Yeah, if there is anything. There wouldn't be a slave left alive in the place."
"Bah," growled Hacker, "Slaves are more trouble than they're worth. Rusty bolts, just try to keep the damn things healthy and saleable! I say go for the booty–"
Anaconda looked up. All eyes instantly turned to him.
"We take the usual prisoners," he murmured. He gave Hacker the kind of smile that made Piranha wince when it was aimed at him. Hacker winced. Anaconda draped himself back over his chair and gazed off into space.
A sort of exhalation went through the room – though robots don't breathe – and the discussion resumed.
Looking triumphant, Blargh was saying, "Ha! So we'll land in a remote area, up north where it's summer. Now, logistics. We're not sending down any robots this time, except for a couple of officers on a rotation basis. I don't want to risk any more–"
Another robot officer in a blue three-cornered hat rumbled, "You're going to leave humans in charge?"
A couple of human officers began to bristle. "Just what do you mean by that?" demanded one.
Piranha was watching with raised eyebrows.
The robot officer shrugged unpleasantly. "Oh, I expect humans are fairly competent, in their way... as far as that goes..."
One of the humans lurched forward a little, the other took hold of his arm to restrain him.
A couple of robot officers nearby stood up straighter, raising their fists warningly.
More humans and more robots around the room began to growl. A few knives flashed into view – to the contemptuous amusement of the robots.
Piranha glanced at Anaconda. He was smiling slightly, absently examining his fingers, apparently oblivious.
Blargh was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes glowing bright red. But he was engaged in a furious argument with Hacker, paying no attention to the impending combat among the officers.
Even Anaconda's three bodyguards, normally a silent, motionless, though highly visible presence at one end of the room, were shouting now. One of them raised his big gun and advanced on a human pirate, who backed into a group of another five humans, all facing the robot as a defiant though slightly shaky wall.
By now, not a word could be understood in the cacophony. But the noise was abruptly halted by a shocking crash that startled the whole room into attention.
"Honestly," said Piranha (having just tossed a large, heavy ceramic plate off the sideboard where he still perched). Sitting down offhandedly with his feet dangling, he continued, "I'm disappointed. I was expecting to be a little impressed by you pirates. But it's a lot clearer now why it took you almost a year to finally catch me."
Blargh threw down his bronze cup with such force that instead of bouncing or rolling, it simply squashed on the floor. He strode forward a few steps towards Piranha, who gazed at him with calm irony.
"Shut your mouth!" roared Blargh. "You smirking little know-it-all! Five hundred galactic cycles we've been in this business, and now we have to change all our methods!" His not very melodious mechanical voice became still harsher with rage. "Ever since landing on your triple-damned hellhole of a planet! We lost 750 good robots in that venture, 750, and what the hell do we have to show for it but you! Holy ramping reamers, who let you ou–"
It was just then that a little motion recalled the fact to Blargh that the captain was nearby, lazily swinging an arm off the back of his chair. Furious as he was, Blargh halted suddenly in the middle of a word.
Piranha looked at him coolly. "Can't fix the past. Best deal with the future."
"That's just what we're going to do, you – gap-toothed flywheel! Make stinking sure nothing like that ever happens again! Who could've expected to meet such resistance on a planet that hadn't any more technology than a –"
"This planet you're aiming at," said Piranha dryly, "hasn't any technology to speak of. Hasn't any magic either, from what you've been saying. You already know how to handle it. So why not just finish up your plans and get ready for tomorrow?"
"The plans are finished–" Blargh bellowed. Then paused. "Well, yes, in fact they are."
There was a moment of confusion around the room, robots and humans looking at each other in perplexity.
Hacker, the second mate, muttered, "I guess so – we just need to draw up the duty lists."
The blue-hatted officer added, "The computer will have those set up in a couple of hours."
"The northern coast landing was what we decided on yesterday," said Blargh, still looking a little surprised. "Didn't we?"
"Um... I think we did." Hacker frowned irritably. "And the human officers, well, we have to use them, don't we."
The blue-hatted officer shrugged. "Can't be helped."
They all glared at each other, painfully at a loss for something to disagree on. Then, as a group, swivelled to focus their glares on Piranha.
"Still a know-it-all..." rumbled Blargh.
Piranha looked at him, smiling coldly.
At that point, Anaconda got out of his chair. The room's attention switched over to him.
"Well, then," he said pleasantly, "Since everything is decided after all, I'd say we should take the advice of our new officer here and get prepared for tomorrow. Blargh, Hacker, I want to see both of you at 0800 with the finalized plan. And Blargh, make sure Piranha is there at the same time – armed and ready to go."
"Him? Armed? How would I stick them on him?" snorted Blargh. Some of the officers chuckled quietly, others rolled their eyes.
Piranha, eyes narrowed, stood up on the sideboard.
Blargh added, "The little freak's going in under my command, isn't that what you said, Boss? Good, I'll have him ready all right." He glanced sidelong at Piranha, who crouched slightly, his fists tightening.
"Hm, yes, I was meaning to mention that," smiled Anaconda. "No, he won't be under your command after all. I think I'll send him in as a third independent commander. Give him his own division and see how he does."
Some internal gears seemed to go out of synch in Blargh for a moment, with a metallic screech. He gasped, "Boss. You can't seriously–" Then sputtered into silence.
For a moment, Anaconda was very still. Then, in the dead quiet of the room, he murmured, "You know, I'm finding myself forced to agree with the little freak. The past is past. Blargh, you're far too inclined to hold a grudge. You two shake hands and make up."
"Shake hands?" howled Blargh, clearly pushed far beyond what any mortal being could be fairly asked to endure. "I'll shake him all right –"
From Piranha's expression, the idea didn't much appeal to him either.
Anaconda crossed his arms. There was a subdued stir through the room, a tremor. "Blargh," he said, coldly, "you're stepping a little too far over the line, don't you think? Now shake his hand. And don't crush it."
Reluctantly, Blargh extended a huge metal paw. Equally reluctantly, Piranha hopped down from the sideboard and came over to him, reached up a black-gloved hand less than half the size of the robot's. They shook hands, quickly, and Piranha yanked his hand away, rubbing it with the other, glaring at Blargh. Blargh glared back venomously. Anaconda put on a chilling smile.
"That's better. Now as our new Chief of the Third Division has pointed out, we're not dealing this time with magic planet like the ... last one. Fortunately, since they truly are more trouble than they're worth. Very poor quality slaves, too. Untamable little yokels who can hardly speak proper Galactic. Though possibly valuable if their raw energies can be ... disciplined."
Anaconda came over and put a heavy hand on Piranha's back. Piranha forced himself to hold still, his face impassive, though he could scarcely breathe for rage. The robot pirates were staring at him like so many stoplights, a phalanx of burning red eyes. Clearly, none of them liked his promotion, if that was what it was; least of all Blargh. Nor were they pleased with the sudden favouritism the Boss was lavishing on this invader. If Anaconda's every action had been calculated strictly to inflame the hatred Piranha already had to deal with on the ship, he couldn't have done any better...
Anaconda was saying to the officers, "The northern mountains are an ideal landing place, the natives there by all reports are exceptionally handsome. Make sure you have at least 500 punishment boxes ready for troublemakers, and six large dormitories to house the first shipment of cargo. Be ready to start landing at 0830. The invasion will begin at 10:00 hours tomorrow; which will be about midnight for the area where we land. Those primitives, they go to bed with the sun, they'll never see us coming. You are all dismissed."
There was not a word spoken in the room as the officers filed out. But the atmosphere was smoky with ill-contained rage. Anaconda's grip hard on his back, Piranha was unable to dart for the door before the others. He stood tensely, watching them go. No use trying to leave now, he'd be surrounded.
Anaconda gestured with his free hand. His three robot bodyguards stirred, looking a little startled, and at his repeated gesture also reluctantly left the room, the last to go. They paused to aim a pointed glare at Piranha. Then the door closed.
Anaconda let go of his subordinate and strolled to the back of the room. He lounged back against the wall, as if preparing to be entertained.
As Piranha glanced at him in frank confusion, he smiled and made a brief gesture as though gripping a sword.
The warning wasn't necessary. As the Boss showed no intention of leaving, Piranha himself went up to the closed door. He paused for a moment, pulling out his weapons. He reached out a hand to touch the door handle, then thought better of it and pressed the door lock instead.
Instantly, at the sound of the lock, there was a furious bellow on the other side of the door, a crash, and the door began to vibrate with blows. Shots and shouts and howls went up. There were clearly a lot of large enraged bodies out there.
Piranha raced over to the very heavy sideboard and with huge effort shoved it across the room to block the door. He turned for a frantic moment to the Boss.
"Anaconda," he panted, "I'm afraid there'll be a short wait before I can let you out."
Anaconda said, smiling, "Lucky thing you didn't lose your strength along with your fireballs, isn't it?"
The visible part of the metal door was showing a few faint dents under the pounding outside. Piranha looked at it grimly. This was going to take some handling.
Anaconda added, placidly, "Surely you knew what would happen if you opened your mouth."
It was not an ideal time for a conversation. Piranha, still intent on the jumping, jerking door, rapidly checked that his pistol was loaded, saying abstractedly, "I never have been good at keeping my mouth shut. It's a fault."
"Yes, I see that. Well, I suppose it's up to me now. All right, Piranha. Come along."
"Excuse me?"
"I don't think you want to be excused just yet." Without moving from where he was leaning, Anaconda reached up and lightly touched a spot high on the wall. A door-sized section of the metal bulkhead turned from grey to smoky to black. Piranha raised an eyebrow.
"Bet they don't have anything like this on your backwards little planet, eh? Now come on. They'll break through soon, and wouldn't you like to give them a surprise? Like opening a beautifully wrapped present and finding an empty box."
"That's a magic portal?"
"Magic? Pooh. Technology, bumpkin."
Reminded of entrances, Piranha turned his attention back to the one he was guarding. The banging had been hard enough to jolt the sideboard a few inches away. He shoved it back. "I don't want to run away from these –"
"You come now. I know you think you can take them all on, but I assure you it's not a good idea. Don't worry, you'll have plenty more chances to fight. Besides, I don't want you to destroy my best men."
The melee outside had organized itself sufficiently that the banging on the door was now in unison, some heavy object apparently being used as a battering ram. "One – two – three –" The big liquor cabinet was jerking with the blows. Piranha stood hunched, ready, considering. He'd need a lot of speed, but if he climbed up onto the cabinet, hiding behind the door as they shoved it inwards, he could take a flying leap onto some metallic head and bounce up to the ceiling lamps before they –
"Piranha. This is an order. Come now, or I'll shoot you myself."
Reluctantly, Piranha turned towards him. He didn't like the idea of being too close to Anaconda. Worse than that, he very much didn't want to be rescued by the Boss, even if it was a real rescue. It would make him, if possible, still more hated on the ship. But he obeyed.
Anaconda, seeing him approach, turned and walked into the black patch. Although it looked like a flat black wall, he passed right through it and disappeared. Piranha gripped his weapons tightly, narrowed his eyes, and stepped into it.
On the other side, to his surprise, was a simple passageway. Anaconda was standing there, a large dark smudge melting into the almost complete blackness. He stood with his arms crossed, ironically tapping his foot. The only lighting was a series of dim greenish floor glow-lights that showed the way down the corridor. The tunnel was narrow and low; Anaconda's head seemed nearly to hit the ceiling. Behind Piranha, the black wall suddenly went grey and solid again; though he couldn't see the change very well, he could feel the passageway become even more close and airless.
Without a word, Anaconda set off quickly down the corridor. Piranha, at several paces' distance, silently followed. As they moved away from the conference room, he could faintly hear crashing, and shouts, first of triumph, then of consternation. He stilled the twist of dismay and anger in himself and continued.
They walked for a long time, at least half an hour, through the narrow, twisting, sharp-angled passageway. Piranha was studying it as well as he could as he went on. It must go between rooms. Had Anaconda built it, or was it part of the ship originally? He thought of some odd bends and detours that had puzzled him in the ventilation system, and his eyes widened. Could there be more hidden routes like this around the ship? How many people knew about them?
Abruptly, the passageway ended. Anaconda pushed another hidden switch, the location of which Piranha noted carefully – it was high on the wall, well over his own head – and pushed through a virtually invisible black door. Piranha followed him, and emerged into a largish room not any better lit than the corridor. In the dimness, Piranha, glancing intently around, saw large block-like shapes like big oblong boxes on the floor. Or coffins – no, they were bigger than that. They certainly didn't resemble any ordinary furniture.
Anaconda turned to Piranha. With his black body and his long dark cape, his form was indistinct; only his small glowing eyes were brightly visible.
"Tell me," he said. "Didn't you know you'd lose your fireballs when we took you away from your planet?"
Piranha tensed; this room was unfamiliar, practically invisible, and full of unknown barriers, an alarming place to have to defend oneself. "I never thought about it."
"You never thought about it?"
"My mind was on other things."
Anaconda eyed him with ironic amusement. "So you're damaged goods, little fireball. No more fireballs. Knowing how so-called "magic" is, I did suspect something like that might happen when you were taken away from your planet. So I won't take that as a breach of contract – though when it comes to making excuses, you are surely the most inept liar of any officer I've ever had the pleasure to deal with. That's another thing you really need to work on – along with your knife technique."
Piranha looked at him, a bit startled.
Anaconda added, "Still, though, you seem to be doing all right. I think you're going to make it. That might not be such a bad thing for me."
He stepped over beside one of the boxes and lifted the top, then turned again to look at Piranha. In the faint light reflected from his eyes, his face changed; he was grinning. "No, you're not doing too badly. There always has been a tiny little streak of the pirate in you, don't you think? Clever of me to notice. But then, who ever heard of a real hero without that?"
Piranha said nothing.
Anaconda turned back to the box, and reaching into the blackness – Piranha wondered if, with his self-lit eyes, or perhaps some other sort of sensors, he was able to see in complete darkness – he took something out, a small light weapon. So this room was a hidden arsenal.
Anaconda continued, "Our partnership covers bigger things, after all, than one little guy fighting one little battle at a time with a handful of little energy spheres. Correct? And blast guns, though less pretty, and not quite as magical, can blow things up just as thoroughly as fireballs. – Calm down, bucolic boy, I'm not attacking you, take the thing."
"What is it?"
"What? I just told you. It's an energy gun. Now take it and get rid of that pathetic antique you're lugging around."
Piranha didn't move. "I'd prefer if you'd demonstrate it first."
Anaconda gave a short laugh. "Does that mean you trust me? or mistrust me? Well, no matter." He fired the gun briefly at the wall. A beam shot out and for an instant the room exploded with bright light as the energy struck the metal wall and a large round patch flared, flamed, and curled into metal fragments. "There, now, did that look booby-trapped?"
"A couple more times, please," Piranha said impassively.
"Really," said Anaconda. "I'm hurt at your distrustfulness. After all, don't I have enough confidence to let you in here alone with me? I thought you hero types believed in the fundamental, underlying goodness and decency of all sentient beings, and all that."
Piranha was silent for a moment. "I'm not a hero. But yes, I suppose I do believe that. Usually."
"Oh, you're a hero all right," Anaconda grinned. "You've got all the signs. I'm quite pleased, I've always wanted one of my very own."
Piranha said, very quietly, not meeting his eyes, "Anaconda... I think you're talking about someone else."
Anaconda tilted his head, looking at him with sudden hard seriousness. Then he raised the gun again. Piranha fought an impulse to dodge behind a box.
Once, twice, Anaconda fired again at the wall. "All right," he said smoothly, "that's enough. Now take it." He pressed a switch to turn off the weapon and pushed it into Piranha's hand.
Anaconda went on, as Piranha peered closely at the gun in the dim light, "I don't allow anyone except guards to carry these on board, for obvious reasons. You can recharge it using the ship's electrical system. It'll deplete pretty fast if you use it at full power the way I just did. Still, this should help your odds a bit. I'd make a few more bets on you, but, you know, I can't seem to get any takers."
He watched, arms crossed, as Piranha carefully stowed the weapon in his vest. "Just don't blow apart too many of my robot pirates," he added sardonically. "One or two will be plenty."
Piranha straightened. "I'd better go. I've got a lot to do tonight."
"Oh, yes – and don't kill all of the lower-level group leaders either. You're going to need some supporters."
Piranha looked at him with slight distaste. "If there's anything I can't stand, it's politics."
"One can't do without it, my boy. Above all, not on this ship. Don't forget, you're to present yourself tomorrow at 0800 hours, ready to start your job. You've had a nice honeymoon but it's over.
"Now go through that passage over there, you'll come out at the third level, port side, two-thirds aft, in a side corridor near the robot officers' quarters level. Make it quick, the outside portal will only be open for half a minute." He pressed a spot on the wall, invisible in the darkness, and another black door opened up like the one by which they had entered.
Piranha glanced at the door, then again at Anaconda. He hesitated, as though about to say something; then turned away and without a word slipped out of the room.
Mercifully, the corridor outside the portal was deserted. From what Anaconda had said, he was a very long distance from his own cabin; it was on the other side of the ship several levels down. He debated for an instant. Should he should return to his cabin? Elly had been alone there for many hours. Or should he seek out his rivals and get the battle over with once and for all?
He paused for a moment to take a better look at the energy gun Anaconda had given him. He checked it over, puzzled. It had several settings ranging from mild to impressive destruction. It appeared to be fully charged. He couldn't find a thing wrong with it. He eyed it, his brow wrinkling.
Then he took a deep breath. It had just hit him, how much difference this small object was going to make to his survival. He glanced back at the wall where the invisible portal had been, incredulous all over again. Why?
Then he put the gun away and set off with speed in the direction of his cabin.
[End of Chapter 7]