Nothing to add ... see notes to Part 1.

Rayman, Ly © UbiSoft Entertainment
Rest is © me

***

Chapter 10: The Descent
Part 2: Nightmare

It was dusk out on the planet. The huge assembly area in the lowest level of the ship, where that morning before dawn the pirates had gathered before launching the attack, was busy again, but with a very different kind of activity. Dozens of pirates were trooping through the room singly and in small groups, lugging objects taken from the planet, dragging strings of prisoners, noisily disputing with each other and with the guards. There were at least a hundred robot guards staged around the room, manning the enormous entrance port, clustering around the huge pile of booty in the center of the room, eyeing with deep suspicion any pirate who came near even to drop some off. They also surrounded the groups of prisoners huddling together in alongside the slightly curved metal walls, waiting to be herded off to the next stage of their unknown fate.

Anaconda strolled around in the middle of the room near the ever-growing pile of goods being dropped off by the returning looters, his yellow eyes intensely aglow in his black metallic face. He kept a close watch on the cold-eyed robots who patted down each pirate, frequently uncovering and confiscating more loot that had somehow failed to make it onto the pile, and also recovering the weapons that had been handed out that morning. Then each grumbling crew member was sent on through the door that led to the elevators to the upper levels of the ship. Anaconda smiled pleasantly at them as they went by.

Piranha, climbing achingly up the long gangway, paused as he came upon the scene. He looked it over for a moment before one of the guards grimly, though deferentially, motioned him forward.

Slowly he headed for the booty pile. One of the inspectors made a move towards him but jolted back as though electrocuted when Piranha's glare snapped onto him.

Piranha went to the pile and disdainfully flung onto it the sack he was carrying.

Anaconda approached him, grinning. "For a few primitive little settlements, not a bad haul, wouldn't you say, First Mate? And most of it quite fine jewels and precious metals. Didn't I tell you these natives were perching on a treasure trove?"

Piranha looked at the pile with unconcealed disgust. "It's just pretty rocks and toys to them. They don't think it's anything special."

"Their ignorance is our gain. -What in the name of clashing gears is this?" Anaconda picked up off the pile a small statuette made of shiny black rock, a delicate humanlike winged figure carved with startling skill and grace out of that brittle material and polished to a softly glowing, slightly translucent smoothness.

"Who brought this? It's nothing but volcanic glass, worthless trash." Involuntarily Piranha's hands shot forward as Anaconda impatiently flung the little statue to the floor, fracturing it. Piranha's hands dropped to his sides again. Anaconda looked at him, still annoyed. "The gewgaws some of these stupid pirates drag in, I swear they're just as ignorant as the natives. I hope you came up with something better than that rubbish."

Piranha had no reserves of diplomacy left. He only growled and turned away.

Anaconda laughed. "Ah, First Mate, you're cranky. Tired and hungry, no doubt. Well, off you go to the banquet, go refuel, recharge."

"Banquet?" Piranha had been thinking of nothing but the chance at last to go barricade himself in his cabin.

"Of course, we celebrate this grand occasion with a feast. A new invasion, quite promising so far; not to mention a new addition to our ranks, a new First Mate... quite an occasion indeed. Go to the officers' mess hall, it's on the sixth level."

***

Coming out of the elevator on the sixth floor, he was struck - smacked in the face - by the sheer volume of celebration. Even though he didn't actually see it in front of him. That whole level of the enormous ship, at least all of it within sight, seemed to consist of a number of a number of gigantic rooms, crew mess halls, off a wide central corridor. On both sides, through the big open doors, he could hear the raucous celebration of the crew. The banquet must have started hours ago, the festivities were just reaching their peak.

He walked forward into the corridor. The corridor too was filled with action - guards posted outside the mess room doors, menial robots and human slaves racing back and forth pushing giant multi-tiered rolling carts laden with plates and bottles, and the occasional happy pirate who reeled out through a door and was promptly shoved back inside by a guard.

He hadn't taken more than a few steps when one of the menial non-humanoid robots, a small boxlike fellow rolling on many casters, trundled up to him. "First Mate?" it said, its sensor swivelling to examine the insignia on his shirt. "First Mate? Come this way, sir."

He followed it down the corridor. As he passed several doors, he could see long rows of tables and benches - at least he thought there were probably tables somewhere under that seething mass of eating, drinking, dancing, brawling, yowling humanity. The smell of food and alcohol was almost as overpowering as the noise. He knew his nerves were on edge, but this chaos wouldn't have been very pleasant even when he was well-rested and - in a saner state.

"In here, sir." One of the robot's multiple thin, snakelike arms pointed him at a door. Piranha went in, the robot followed.

This was the officers' mess hall, and the ambience was a little less joyful, a little more restrained, though not a lot - especially closer to the door where the lower-ranking crew were. It was smaller than the other rooms, though still very large, filled right now with perhaps a hundred officers of varying grades as well as another few hundred men.

Someone had apparently made a gesture towards enlivening the battered whitish walls of the room. They were hung with what looked like ancient garlands of some flimsy stuff which might once have been colourful, but was now ragged, threadbare, and grey with dust and age. The big bare wooden tables were strewn here and there with bunches of what Piranha was able after some puzzlement to identify as tattered artificial flowers - though by now, most of them were down on the floor being trampled by the hundred or so slaves rushing about with jugs of drink and plates of food. And dominating the wall at the far end of the room, hanging over a semicircular table that was set at a ninety-degree angle to the rest and raised up a step on a low dias, was a large, grotesquely grinning deaths-head mask.

That was obviously the captain's table. As Piranha was led between the rows, now and then narrowly missing being sprayed or swatted by some unrelated bit of celebration going on nearby, and also giving small nods of acknowledgement as some of the more alert crew members noticed him and shouted a greeting or saluted, he saw that the large table had just three places set and three chairs. There was a large armchair in the center, unoccupied, and to its right slouched Hacker, looking distinctly sulky and drinking steadily. On the left of the armchair was another unoccupied place. Piranha groaned under his breath. He was going to be put there, of course. Up on display for everyone to stare at, sitting next to -

***

"First Mate."

He looked to his right. There, close to the aisle sat Tulik, whom he hadn't spoken to since that morning, when he had provided most of the intense briefing Piranha had received, and had helped him plan the details of the invasion. (Hacker, despite his title of Strategy Chief, had been nowhere to be found.)

Tulik rose from his seat, bowed to Piranha fractionally. Piranha returned the bow.

Despite the obvious impatience of the robot trying to guide Piranha to his seat, Tulik stood still and looked at the First Mate for some time. Piranha faced him uneasily.

"You rather surprised me today, First Mate," said Tulik finally.

Piranha didn't answer. Tulik continued to look at him. At last Piranha said, very low, "I couldn't have done it without your help, Tulik."

The tall robot's unblinking gaze stayed on him. "Ah, no. That's not what I'm talking about."

Piranha's eyes went hot black, he turned away. And moved forward again towards his seat, the small robot urging him on.

Tulik sat back down as he passed.

***

Piranha let himself be ushered to his chair and sat in it glumly. It was rather tall for him. Its duty done, the rolling robot bustled off, clicking its retractable arms into place with what seemed like relief. Piranha waited as several servants hurried over, bringing him a heaped-up plate, then a metal goblet, then pouring it full of the mysterious intoxicating liquid drunk on the ship by both humans and robots, and then tearing off again before he had a chance to ask for some water. He glanced over at Hacker, who silently shifted his chair so he didn't have to look at Piranha, and did his best to bury his large face in a goblet. Indifferently, Piranha turned away again. He looked around the table. Unlike the others, it was covered by what was meant to be a white cloth, and the streamers and artificial flowers scattered over it looked slightly newer than the rest - they at least retained some trace of color.

And in front of Anaconda's empty place, there was a transparent vase just large enough for the single flower it held. A real flower, a small elegant white one on a slender stem, bright enough to make the tablecloth and the walls and everything else in the room look like dirt in comparison. Where in the name of all the gods had that come from?

Picking up a fork to at least make it look like he was eating, Piranha put his attention on his plate. But at another fierce clench of his insides, his hand automatically let go of the fork, it clattered to the table. For all the noise of the room, that little metallic clang cut through him like a knife.

His head sank down a little. He let himself fall back against the chair. His gaze drifted almost unconsciously over to the flower, his eyes fixed on it. Gradually he sank into it, it swelled up, slowly smothered him in whiteness.

***

How much time passed was unclear, but at some point, roused by a change in the sound of the room, he came out of his exhausted semi-trance. The chaotic racket of the crowd had gathered into a low unanimous roar. He sat up straight and looked over the room. There was Anaconda, sweeping down the aisle toward the captain's table with a long free stride, his heavy cloak rippling behind him, smiling his most poisonously triumphant smile. A stir of applause ran through the crew as he passed by, he lifted one hand in imperious acknowledgement. He strode up to the dais and over to his chair, passing behind Piranha. Piranha glanced at him, then focused his gaze on his plate.

Anaconda was clearly in an expansive mood. He settled into his chair, took a drink from the cup a slave quickly set before him, and then leaned his right elbow on the table, resting his narrow face in his hand. Grinning, he pointed his baton at his first mate.

"Piranha! Is this how you greet your captain? Not very friendly. I might even say, not very appreciative."

Piranha turned fierce black eyes on him but said nothing.

"You didn't even change your clothes, First Mate! Jumping crankcases, didn't it occur to you this was a formal occasion? Ah well, no matter."

Piranha's stare turned blacker, if anything, but didn't change otherwise.

Anaconda gave a soft chuckle and picked up his cup again. "You don't seem to have eaten much, Piranha. You should, this is probably the best meal you jelly bags will get till the next invasion. The cooks always pull out all the stops for a banquet." He turned to the seat on his other side. "Don't they, Second Mate? Good to know you're still alive, by the way. I was beginning to wonder."

Hacker had already straightened his chair, though he still didn't look toward Piranha. He grunted meaninglessly in reply.

"That's all right, the excuses can wait. Right now let's keep things pleasant. Hacker, haven't you congratulated Piranha on his promotion?"

Hacker sent a brief laser-like glance in Piranha's direction. "Yes," he muttered.

"Wonderful." Anaconda eyed the white metal robot for a moment, and Piranha could almost feel the calculation: Which was the better victim for the occasion? With an icily pleasant smile, the Boss turned back towards him. Evidently he was the winner.

"You see what I told you about Hacker, First Mate? A winsome fellow like that, how can you not love him?"

Behind his back, Hacker snarled silently and turned his chair away again. Piranha watched him grimly, also in silence. Anaconda chuckled.

"I can hardly keep up with all this lively conversation. Piranha, try the dessert, tell me if this eating business is really all it's cracked up to be."

Piranha had to fight back his body's instant, violent reaction against the idea of food. "I've had enough, Anaconda. Can't take any more."

"Then at least have a drink. We'll propose a toast to your success."

"Sorry, can't. Full up."

"What? A pirate who can't drink? There's no such thing, even a mere robot knows that. After a long day of pillaging and plundering, you need to unwind a bit! Pick up that cup, for ion's sake, and take a drink!"

Piranha shook his head. "No, not a good idea. We - jelly bags have our limits." Though he strove to put a casual note into his voice, to brush it all off with mild amusement, he knew that he wasn't hiding anything from the Boss.

Anaconda grinned and lifted his own cup. "Honestly, First Mate. You can be such a cheerless bore." He leaned back in his chair and took a sip. "I just don't know why I can't ever seem to find good-natured officers. They're all such gloomy, grumpy, unsocial characters. But I'm afraid you may turn out the worst of the lot. Blargh at least would take a drink with me when he wasn't trying to steal me blind. But you! When you're not out blowing up innocent people and burning their homes to the ground, you do nothing but sulk. And the stories I've heard about you! What got into you today? Hitting a poor confused pirate over the head because he went in the wrong direction! And going after another with your sword, just over some little disagreement over tactics! Don't deny it, now, it wasn't Hacker who told me. And the language! The terrible things you've said to the men entrusted to your command! Poor fellows, their ears must still be burning. I'm shocked, simply shocked."

Piranha gave him a contemptuous look but remained silent. The Boss shook his head, still grinning. "Ah well. Keep working at it, I expect eventually you'll convince them you're really an officer."

He put down his cup then and stood up, looking majestically over the room. Dramatically he shrugged his dark cloak back from his shoulders and raised his long slender arms. A stir began in the crowd, a change in the sounds of voices, the clanking of utensils and cups. "Men and robots of the Insurrection!" Anaconda thundered, in a tremendous voice Piranha had never heard him use before.

A cheer began at the back of the room and swelled, moving through the ranks and growing until after a minute all the crew and officers in the room were standing up, yelling, clapping, stomping on the floor, slamming their metal goblets on the tables, even clanging metal fists against on each other's metal bodies, raising a deafening racket that still wasn't enough to drown out the howls of "Anaconda! The Boss! The Boss! The Boss!"

Anaconda let it go on for a few moments after it reached its peak, then like an orchestra conductor swept down his outstretched arms to cut off the sound. There was instant silence.

He leaned forward on the table and looked at them. "Isn't this the finest collection of conquerors since time began?" They cheered. "A glorious start to the most glorious invasion this ship has ever known! You outdid yourselves today! And I fully expect you'll surpass that tomorrow!"

More howls and cheers and a stomping of feet on the floor that set all the utensils on the tables rattling. It went on for some time while the Boss stood with his arms folded, smiling with cold satisfaction.

At last he cut them off again. "And we have even more to celebrate today. You saw him swear his loyalty to me this morning, before the start of the invasion-" A cheer went up once more. Anaconda went on, "You witnessed today the inauguration of the first humanoid and alien - and former enemy, former enemy, my friends! - to seize the title of First Mate. Piranha, stand up and let them look at you."

Piranha had just been hit by another heavy spasm of nausea. He got to his feet. Then, since he was almost completely hidden by the table, he leaped up onto it. He glared out at the men with no trace of a smile.

All the same, the cheering and stomping and clanging began again, and grew and grew until it threatened to shake the decorations off the walls. Piranha was taken aback. It was no lie that he'd treated them roughly today. In fact, at times he'd been half-aware through all the chaos and confusion of events that he was deliberately trying to make them hate him. Yet now they were applauding him twice as loudly as they had Anaconda.

At last, fighting with some effort against that palpable wall of noise, he lifted his hands and gestured much as the Boss had done, trying to quiet it down. The cheering gradually slowed, though the clapping and pounding on the floors and tables continued, and now and again swelled up once more and cheering broke out irrepressibly. Piranha glanced at Anaconda. The Boss was scowling. Hastily, the First Mate made an abrupt, fierce gesture, and the applause finally quit.

But a few voices continued to call out, easily heard now. "The quickest invasion ever, he knows what he's doing!" "Didn't stand for any nonsense!" "Hardly any men lost!" "A great first mate!" "Stopped a native from bashing in my head, what other officer would do that?" "Blargh never gave a damn!" And so on, more shouts, more stomping, and the cheering threatened to go out of control again.

Standing there on the table, trembling at the end of his endurance, about to tumble over the brink, Piranha felt his vision blurring again. Some of the fierce tension visible in his stance relented. "Men," he said. "Don't talk like that." He sighed quietly. "I saw you fight. You did what I expected. And I fought along with you. I'm as much a pirate as any of you now."

Another cheer began, and despite his efforts it swelled up like a flooding river, overflowed and went on and on until at last, with a furious motion, he finally managed to silence it.

He grinned bitterly. "Enough! Enough hooting from you gorillas. Don't waste your time. A pirate's life is hard and short. At least a human pirate's life is." He gestured around the room. "This is the reward you get. Make the most of it." And he jumped off the table.

There was another surge of stomping, guffawing and cheering. Then the clanking of cups and plates recommenced as the crew sat back down and returned to the important business of converting their bloodstreams as nearly as possible to pure alcohol. Piranha slumped in his chair, shutting his eyes.

"What a remarkable demonstration." He heard Anaconda's soft, acid voice beside him. "How odd. Only a day or two ago they were after your blood. Yet today they adore you as though you'd handed them all a pile of treasure. Of course, they're a fickle bunch of brutes, but still, to see a mass display of such appalling disloyalty..."

Piranha took hold of the table edge, his eyes still closed. The room was swirling, his body was shaky. A sensation of utter unreality settled over him. Could he really be here? Wearing these clothes, surrounded by these strangers, conversing with a loathsome enemy? A desperate urgency to wake up, to throw off this insane dream took hold of him, for an instant he struggled to fight his way out of it, to open his eyes once again in the real world, to see the anxious but smiling faces of his friends wondering why he'd slept so long.

His friends... his dead friends.

With a faint gasp, he forced open his fierce black eyes, clenched his teeth, glowered at Anaconda with an intensity that made the robot stop talking and smile.

"Ah, Piranha," he said, much more in his usual silky tone, "Even a banquet and the adulation of a thousand fools isn't enough to improve your temper. Well, since you seem to be finished here, come with me."

He smiled again. Involuntarily, Piranha drew back a little.

[End of Chapter 10, part 2]