Fleet of Knives: An Embers of War Novel by Gareth L. Powell

Author:Gareth L. Powell [Powell, Gareth L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Space Opera
ISBN: 9781785655227
Google: RMuEDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 2019-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

NOD

“Nod, come to the infirmary,” they say.

Big hurry.

Down tools and climb stairs.

Leave offspring to work.

Always work.

Always more to fix.

Arrive at infirmary to find injured Druff.

“Help me fix it,” Preston says.

But one look enough to see Druff cannot be fixed.

Druff broken inside.

Has entered dying drowse. Preparing to rejoin World Tree. Root of all things.

Curled up like a seed.

“Cannot fix,” I say. “Much apologies.”

“I don’t think I can do it without you.”

Preston only has one face.

Only two hands.

Humans next to useless.

“Can you at least speak to it?” he asks.

I shrug three shoulders.

“Rude to interrupt dying drowse.”

“But it can be done?”

“Only in emergency.”

Preston wipes face with hands. Peculiar action.

“This is an emergency.” He talks slowly. “We don’t know what happened to that ship, and half the crew’s still missing. Anything it can tell us would be a big help, you know?”

Think of offspring in engine room.

Much fixing.

Much mischief.

Need to get back before totally rewire Troublesome Hound.

“With reluctance,” I say.

Place two faces against brother Druff.

Scent tells me name is Chet.

Chet from high in the Windward Branches of World Tree.

Traveller and engineer.

No current life partner.

Must push beyond scent.

Press faces hard against side. Speak name. Push tongue beneath scales to jab skin.

Chet wakes. A single face emerges. Draws ragged breath.

“Where is crew, Chet?”

“Crew gone.”

Fingers hang limp around edge of face.

“Where gone?”

“Nymtoq grave ship.”

“How many?”

“Let me sleep, Nod.”

“Humans need to know. How many?”

“Five, maybe six. Not sure who survived crash. Know two for definite.”

“Thank you, Chet.”

“Work done? Rest now?”

“Rest.”

Chet’s head droops. Eyes burn like black stars.

“Nod. Important.” Breath failing. “Tell others. White ships are cousins.”

“Not understanding.”

Chet drowning in internal fluid.

“Tell them.”

I curl fingers over Chet’s spine. Feel shudder.

Then silence.

No more breathing. No heartbeat.

No nothing.

Chet gone to World Tree.

“Store body,” I tell Preston. “One day, deliver Chet home.”

Feed him to World Tree’s roots.

Reunite with ancestors.

Be one with Tree.

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