Blood Impulse

Part 42.4 - SHIPMASTER

Meloira Sector, Battleship Singularity

The Singularity's state quarters were not ostentatious. In general, they were slightly larger than the quarters allotted to officers, and had a different layout that included a small dining room. Furnished and decorated, these quarters were meant to be loaned to visiting dignitaries, whether they were higher-ups from Command or political ambassadors. They had never been meant to hold non-human physiology. The furniture simply hadn't been designed for it. All the same, the Hydra lay across the couch in the center of the room. Its long body draped across the cushions and burrowed into the decorative pillows.

At first, Admiral Gives thought it was dead, it lay so still and quiet, but then he saw it was breathing. It was merely subdued, as the ghost had promised it would be. All the same, it was useless to him half-comatose. He moved to rest a hand on the silver guard of his sword, sheathed on his left hip. 'Wake him.'

'Aye,' the ghost said, lifting the pressure that had forced the Hydra into unconsciousness.

A second later, the biological drone stirred, flexing its long, dexterous claws and lashing its prehensile tail. It flicked its tongues, then raised its head and turned to him, no doubt smelling his presence. It turned to face the Admiral, eyes darker than onyx. "A guessst," it hissed, then switched from the standard human language to its native tongue. "Might this one be food?"

"If you are hungry, I can get you food," the Admiral said. "But I am not it."

The Hydra paused, focusing its attention upon this new specimen. It tasted the air once more, as if reevaluating. "You know the tongue of the Mother Nest."

"I do." The Admiral replied, keeping his responses in human standard. While the Hydra could contort their physiology to speak humanity's primary language, the reverse was exceptionally difficult. Certain sounds required for the Hydrian language were extremely challenging to mimic. The clicking and hissing could be painful to attempt, if not simply impossible. Humanity typically had to use soundboards to mix and match sounds they had recorded into new words. That worked, but it was slow, and it was clear enough this particular Hydra understood the human language, so the Admiral hadn't bothered to fetch the soundboard. They could both speak in their native language and understand each other just fine.

"A rarity," the Hydra acknowledged, slithering off the sofa and rising up onto its rear limbs. Like that, it mirrored the bipedal stature of a human, but its long body hunched over, its two upper limbs seemingly disproportionate.

The way the drone moved was off-putting. When it stood bipedal, one would expect it to move like a human, but it didn't. Its joints twisted and bent differently, allowing it to move on all four limbs when it chose. Upon two, its long body elevated its head to nearly seven feet, even with the hunched curve of its back. It towered over the Admiral as it approached, leaning inward to study him in closer detail. "You smell of iron blood and sickness."

The blood, the Admiral understood. He'd washed his hands, scrubbed them clear to his elbows. He had changed jackets, rebandaged his hand and swapped the glove on his left hand, but he had no doubt some amount of Robinson's blood still lingered. A Hydra's keen sense of smell would be able to detect that easily. The accusation of sickness, however, the Admiral had no explanation for. A Hydra may have been able to perceive the temperature fluctuations of a fever, or the bacteria behind an infection, but he wasn't ill. Still, the Hydra circled, observing him before pausing on his left side and tasting the air once more. "Why not cut off the infected limb and rid yourself of the weakness?"

By the way it was staring, Admiral Gives could feel its attention centering on his left hand. The hand remained badly burned. It functioned, but the scabs hadn't closed, and it still had to be cleaned and doused in anti-bacterial treatment. That must be what the Hydra smelled. Within Hydrian culture, intent on breeding the fittest biological form, needing medicine to prevent infection was an admission of inferiority. It would be better to chance cutting off the limb or beating the infection unaided, but Admiral Gives had not come here to compare their civilization. "I was told your name is Rowin," he said, moving his gloved hand off the guard of his sabre.