Chapter 142

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two

The creature that called itself Sokkizarai rose from the boiling black pool. Its body was a tangle of long, spiny legs that ended in barbed tentacles. Four massive, fleshy wings unfurled, splashing the steaming, vile fluid all around

Connor danced left and right, avoiding the slimy black stuff but never taking his eyes off the inhuman monster.

Thunderous rumbling vibrated up from the floor: Dabichikal’s fury.

It was so loud, so intense, Connor couldn’t even hear his own blood rushing.

Like the icy daggers gashing his spine, the rumbling made it hard to concentrate.

Steam trailed after the macabre horror of Sokkizarai as it climbed into the air. Each wing flap battered Connor with heat that had its own necrotic taint.

As huge as the chamber was, the creature made it feel small.

The thing’s spiny legs unfolded and spread out, and the nauseating chittering it emitted became a cacophony of hissing and scraping, like a million teeth clacking against bone.

“Servant of the Oppressors.” The alien intermediary sounded angry.

Very angry.

It angled its massive head forward and beat its fleshy wings, lobbing foamy globs of the yellow-brown gooey pus at Connor.

He tumbled away, barely avoiding the awful fluid, which smacked into the floor with meaty, wet slaps.

When the assault stopped, he got back to his feet. “They’re not oppressors.”

“Imprisonment. Oppression.”

“Your master would slaughter everyone it doesn’t approve of. If anything deserves oppression, that would be it.”

The giant terror hovered, its wings flapping slower. “This is your cost? Your loyalty against Dabichikal?”

“My cost?”

“Why you serve your masters.”

Connor noted the way the creature was happy throwing around the term master when it wasn’t used it. “To preserve life, exactly as I said.”

“Imprisonment. Oppression. You accept when death threatens?”

Was he getting through? “Yes. Life must be honored.”

For long seconds, the meaty wings flapped. “Would you explain?”

“Isn’t it obvious without explanation?”

“Explain to Dabichikal?”

“Would it listen to a primitive?”

“A primitive who refuses treasures.”

It was meant as a compliment. That much was apparent in the intonation. But was it sincere?

What was there to lose? If the monster could be convinced to turn away from slaughter, the risk was worth it.

Connor lowered his swords. “I’ll try.”

Sokkizarai’s icy probing intensified. “Open you mind, Connor Rattakul.”

As much as he feared betrayal, Connor had an obligation.

He relaxed his defenses and reached out for the imprisoned alien.

It connected—an infinite array of voices and ideas, all so inhuman and terrible that they provoked a sense of nausea.

Judging was the wrong approach—he had to remember that.

Different wasn’t necessarily evil.

Openness. Acceptance. He focused on those ideals. “Can you hear me?”

The thing that was Dabichikal mumbled and screeched. It roared and whispered. It cajoled and demanded. Then it calmed. “I hear you, Servant of the Oppressors.”

“If you want freedom, I think you’re going to have to convince the K’luuta that you will abandon your dreams of genocide.”

“You speak for them, Servant of the Oppressors? You know their demands?”

“I know that they’ve protected me and guided me.”

Dabichikal seemed to consider that. Voices argued back and forth in the strange chorus of thoughts its awareness was made from.

Connor couldn’t understand what was said, but the whole time, he had to fight back against his bias toward sensing malice.

This was an alien thing. It had its own justifications and rationale.

It deserved to be heard.

Yet, a voice tickled the back of his mind: Wouldn’t the K’luuta have done that already? Wouldn’t such an advanced race have sought peace first?

Dabichikal reached some sort of consensus. “Why must life be preserved? Among your own, the powerful prey upon the weak.”

“Only until the weak no longer allow it.”

Once again, the alien minds argued.

And the little voice in the back of Connor’s head became louder.

This is a game. It’s a trap. This thing offered everything someone could want, all for Connor to walk away.

What did that really say?

That this Dabichikal didn’t really plan to change its ways.

That it worked through deception and temptation.

That it couldn’t just kill him to have its way.

Then what was it after? Why keep him engaged in a false negotiation?

Time.

It needed time.

Even something eternal, something with a view constructed from immortality, there would always be a point where opportunity arose.

Dabichikal had pushed its influence into the world. It had used Gu Li and now Selen to spread its power and to bring about actions that would lead to its escape.

Those plans must be close to fruition.

That was why it had brought Selen to the planet now.

But why keep him alive? Why not engage him—?

Connor’s pocket computer vibrated, but when he glanced down at it, there wasn’t a message waiting or someone trying to connect.

Instead, it flashed a warning: Distributed system attack underway.

Someone was hacking him.

How?

He rushed through the login but the only thing running on the machine was a little app: Infiltration.

What did that even mean?

Connor was vaguely aware of the two alien entities observing him, but they seemed fine with the distraction.

Because it’s letting time pass. That’s what they want.

He tapped the application to see the details of it.

It was a little over a month old, and it had been written by…Toshiko.

What?

A message popped up from the application: Infiltration operates remotely, spreading itself using whatever devices it can to expand its influence. The carrier isn’t even aware of it while it’s used as a launching platform. Before long, the entire network is compromised and everything collapses from within.

What did that mean? Why would Toshiko use his system to spread a virus?

His computer powered down and back on.

And on the screen, an image flashed: the pendant Selen had around her neck.

But seeing the image up close without the distraction of her hacked body, Connor realized what the pendant was.

The symbols, the gem…it was a piece of K’luuta technology.

And it was corrupted.

Gu Li’s hour being lost in the underground maze.

The thing he’d come back for.

It had been Dabichikal’s plan all along, to spread corruption, to infiltrate, then to bring the device back and complete its job.

All it needed was time.

And Connor had left Selen alone in the prison above.