317: Job Interview

The Hornets stared at him, and he felt their combined shock. This led the Queen, concerned, to intensify her spiritual grip on him. She crushed his Soul Sense back into him, restricted him tightly.

‘How do you know our language?’ she asked.

He was unable to reply through ripples at first, because of how tightly his Soul was suppressed. But she noted this, and the force reduced.

‘I know many things,’ he said, while he and the Modules considered his pitch.

She didn’t know it yet, but this was an interview. He was absolutely certain that this Queen could make use of his services. His understanding had grown rapidly as their earlier conversation progressed, and he saw very clearly that there were people she wanted dead—but that she was unable to make them dead. He simply needed to make her understand that he was the solution to her problems.

‘I am a skilled fighter with unusual capabilities. I can outfight any at my level, even entire groups alone.’ No such thing as too much self-aggrandisement, a time like this. ‘But above all,’ he said while the Queen and all the rest of at them stared at him with a worrying lack of comprehension, ‘I am an assassin. I am experienced at moving in stealth, setting traps and ambushes, getting into places I will not be expected. I have worked for many in the past, killing whoever they wish me to kill, and for you, Great Queen, I could serve the same role. As proof of my skills I present the death of the Highspawn Khoren, who fell to my Blade not long ago.’

The Queen was shaken from her surprise by these final words. He saw the sudden interest in her eyes, heard it in her cold, alien laughter. She covered that interest with a sardonic pulse of ripples, and glances at the Hornets around her—who were a mix of amused, doubting, annoyed, wary, and everything else.

‘All that, and yet here you stand before me, tightly bound.’

‘I do not claim to be unbeatable. But you heard it yourself. I lasted many minutes against four Tier 2’s, even slew one of them. Imagine what I could accomplish with the proper patron. Imagine what I could accomplish if I were Tier 2 myself.’

‘What are you doing, Vexira?’ snapped Vorath. ‘Why are you listening to this creature? I told you, I wish its death. You must grant me that.’

‘Not necessarily,’ she replied.

‘Yes, necessarily! It is a human! It has no rights!’

‘It would have rights if I took it as an outer member of my Hive.’

All the Hornets stirred at that, staring at her with their eternally angry-looking hornet faces somehow stunned and disbelieving, mandibles drooping with shock.

‘Preposterous,’ croaked Veliren, ‘that—‘

‘Is my decision,’ replied the Queen, with a dismissive wave of one hand.

‘Only be aware, Great Queen, that I charge a high price for my skills,’ murmured Nicolai. He was enjoying using this language of ripples. It was interesting to use, accomplished by vibrating his Soul in a specific manner. Threat Analysis, Cyberwarfare and Simulations were merged with him, aiding him in speaking it, and they too found it fascinating.

‘A high price?’ spat the Queen, then let out another shrill, cold laugh. ‘Your price is your life, human.’ She pointed his Blade at him with the words, lifted the heavy weapon as though it weighed no more than a stick.

‘Acceptable for now,’ he replied, bowing his head. Internally he was overjoyed. She’d heard what he had to offer and she wanted it.

‘The Empress has specified that in the event Queens wish to recruit outer members,’ spoke Vorath, floating closer to the Queen, ‘they must first publicly test them, to ensure they meet the standards of Hornet-kind. Especially necessary for a human.’ In the army of Hornets, who had come to hover closer, Nicolai saw many nodding at this. ‘If you wish to recruit this creature, it seems to me a test of combat is most fitting. And, since he killed one of my brothers, I feel us Highspawn should be given an advantage. I put myself and one of my brothers forwards to perform that test. Of course, we will go easy on him.’ Vorath glared at him, emanating zero intention of “going easy.”

That one really didn’t like him. Or perhaps he just wanted to spoke the Queen’s wheels. Either way, Nicolai stared back and spiritually emanated challenge, which seemed the preferred Hornet way to non-verbally communicate. The Hornet’s fists tightened and mandibles spread at this, and white light flickered over his palm.

In a position as weak as his, and amongst such xenophobic beings, he needed to adopt their culture, act as much like them as he could. Otherwise they’d see him as no more than an animal. Of course, even if he managed to comport himself just as they would, they’d still view him with contempt. That was why he also needed to stand up for himself, strike out at insults and rise to challenges. Given time they would come to respect him, though the contempt would always be there.

The Queen would definitely have him fight Vorath. She obviously wanted him dead. Vorath bringing a friend was good, too—he felt sure he could convince her to return his Blade. She’d know he would need it.

‘No,’ she said.

He looked over, as did Vorath. The Hornet with anger, mandibles snapping together. Nicolai with confusion, and wariness.

‘Two Tier 2’s against a 1? How shameless. And in any case, it’s my responsibility to ensure there are no more needlessly dead Highspawn.’ She turned, and looked to the Tier 1 nearby. ‘Serrin,’ she purred, in a strange tone. ‘I choose you to test this human—who claims to be capable of outfighting any at his level—and ensure he is worthy of this Hive. Come forward.’

Serrin leaned forward, wings droning as he drifted closer, stopping beside her. He was staring at Nicolai in a very odd way. A kind of hunger. There was something unusual about this Hornet, Nicolai could tell that clearly. And yet, he didn’t feel any maliciousness from it. If anything, he had the strange impression the Hornet wanted, in some vague way, his aid.

‘I am willing,’ said Serrin.

‘It will be a fight to the death, or until I call an end,’ added the Queen casually, and Serrin turned a suddenly furious look on her, while Nicolai frowned.

A strange order, because he was pretty sure she didn’t want this Serrin to be killed. He had little more to go off than body language, but from what he’d seen she had a protective attitude toward Serrin.

His eyes flicked between the Hornets, brows creased. Vorath who she wanted dead, but he was not to fight. Serrin who she wanted alive, but they were to fight to the death. This doesn’t make any sense. Threat Analysis told him there must be some logic behind it, and he knew the Module was right. He didn’t have enough information to work that logic out, that was the problem. He and the Modules needed to change that, before the end of the fight.

‘What of the Greybugs?’ spat Vorath. ‘While we waste time here, they will be—‘

‘Something that did not bother you before, so why should it now?’ she replied, not even looking at him. An utter dismissal. Nicolai felt the sudden rage boiling off Vorath. ‘We will descend to the ground, as humans need something to stand on.’

He considered saying he was fine to fight in the air. His Soul and Symbiotes were now entirely recovered, as he hadn’t been stung since the Queen caught him. But he saw no reason to fight at a disadvantage if he didn’t need to.

Soon he stood on an expanse of rocky ground. A small, craggy hilltop poking out of the jungle, not unlike the one he’d been captured on. The Queen’s Soul Sense released him and he stood at last on his own two feet.

Serrin landed across from him, while the others remained in the air. Nicolai turned a slow circle, looking up and around. Not dissimilar to the Duel Arena. The Hornets formed another great, slow-turning cyclone of black-armoured beings, gazing down with pitiless, insectile faces, rising up in rank after rank into the angry sky.

The Queen was on the lowest circle, Daughters and other Hornets-of-Interest flanking her. ‘If the human comes out victorious against Serrin, then none can doubt him,’ she declared.

This didn’t receive any argument. The Hornets all rippled their agreement, even Vorath and the other Highspawn.

Nicolai glanced over at his opponent, who stood across from him and appeared quite unhappy, even unwilling to be standing there. The Hornet glanced angrily at the Queen floating high above.

‘And as for you, Serrin,’ she spoke down to him, ‘I only pray you will not disappoint me. Again.’

He glared up at her, mandibles spreading in what Nicolai was pretty sure was a sneer.

She looked directly at Nicolai next. ‘Human, if you kill him, you will be guaranteed a place in the Hive. You will be my agent, accorded all rights. As close to a Hornet as one of your squishy kind can be.’ She turned away. ‘Thryss, bring me two identical swords, Imbued for Soul Sense control,’ she said to one of the Hornets.

Nicolai stared up at her, eyes narrowed, trying to understand what was happening here. Just the way she floated up there told him plenty. The degree of interest and focus in her body language as she gazed down first at him, then at Serrin.

‘Fight him properly, Serrin,’ called out Thryss, as she turned to move off in hunt of two swords fitting the description. ‘Don’t let this pitiful creature kill you out of pride! Strike him down and become who you were always meant to be!’ Her words served only to make him stare up at her, silent and sullen.

Other Hornets cried similar encouragement. Nicolai, on the other hand, received the opposite.

‘You stand no chance, human,’ called one. ‘He is the best fighter seen in a generation.’

Nicolai looked over at his opponent. ‘Is that true?’ he asked.

Serrin stepped forward, and the cries rose in volume, ripples washing over them in a confusing sea of spiritual sound. Nicolai saw no sign that Serrin intended to attack. The Hornet was leaning forward slightly, hands down. A strange passion emanated from the creature.

Nicolai readied himself regardless, though they hadn’t yet even been presented their weapons. Supposedly this one was very skilled. Giving off no signs of imminent attack would thus be typical, and attacking before the official start might be common in Hornet culture. He had a feeling the beings flying above would only find such a thing amusing.

But Serrin didn’t attack. He sent out a tight beam of ripples, ripples which were exceedingly weak and small. Had Nicolai not been right in front of him, they would have been lost in the sea of far louder ripples raining down from above.

‘Do not fear, I will not hurt you,’ the Hornet spoke, in what Nicolai realised was the ripple-language version of a whisper. He glanced around. ‘I will try to see to it that you can escape, and get away from them all. If we pretend to fight, we can move…’ He tilted his head, in the direction of a large crack in the ground. ‘I think that was made by a Deepworm. It should go down far, you can get in there and escape.’

Nicolai tilted his head, curious. ‘Are you the best fighter in a generation?’ he asked again, his own ripples pitched also to a “whisper.”

Serrin shrugged. ‘So they say. But I do not wish to kill you, human.’

Nicolai considered the crack in the ground through cameras. Threat Analysis considered the Hornet’s idea a very risky, unreliable proposition. ‘There is no guarantee that hole is any deeper than it looks from here, and I doubt I would have time to get far in any case, before the Queen’s Soul Sense catches me. I am not eager to pin my hopes on such a weak plan.’

Serrin’s shoulders slumped. ‘Then I shall throw down my weapon, and you must do the same. We will simply stand here. Neither of us needs to die.’

The Queen’s voice sounded loud from above. ‘Human, if you do not attack him, I will kill you myself. You will fight him, and you will seek to kill him. Fail to do so and I will descend like lightning from the sky, and strike you dead. That is how this is.’

Nicolai glanced up. ‘I think she heard us.’

‘No,’ said Serrin disgustedly. ‘She simply knows how I am. But she may not be telling the truth.’ He took a deep breath, raised his cruel, alien head. His eyes were flat and cold as a switched off TV screen, and yet Nicolai sensed a well of emotion behind them. ‘I will not kill you, human.’

This Hornet, spoke the Mask with deep assurance, is more human than most humans.

Two short swords fell from the sky and stabbed into the ground, hilt first—one before Nicolai, and the other Serrin. Before he’d even realised it, Nicolai’s bionic had snapped out and seized his by the hilt, taken it firmly into his grasp. He felt at it with his Soul. Imbued. Very similar to his rapier. It was unusually light and slender, slightly curving, with an ornate design. More importantly, it was well-balanced and sharp.

‘For this fight,’ called out the Queen, ‘neither of you will use Symbiotes, Artifacts, Imbued items—excepting the weapons given—or anything else. Nor, human, will you use any tools or technology of your kind. You will simply fight with your natural bodies and these swords. You may use your Souls, but that is it. No Symbiotes, no technology, no strange weapons. That means switch the sword to your other arm, human. I sense that one is unnatural, some kind of artificial weapon, and you will make no more use of it than you would if it were your original, natural arm. If anyone should deviate, I will strike them down.’

With a snort of amusement Nicolai flipped the sword from his left to his right.

The one stabbed into the ground before Serrin was a mirror of his. The Hornet made no move to pick it up, simply gazing straight up at his mother, then looking over at Nicolai. There was a kind of calm acceptance in those eyes.

‘Begin,’ cried out the Queen.

But Serrin still did not pick the sword up, nor take a step forward.

In spite of what she had said, Nicolai sensed very clearly that if he were to simply strike down this Hornet, it would not end well for him. There was something very odd going on here. Games within games. This was a test, a complex one. A test for him, and a test for Serrin.

‘I am not going to try to escape,’ he whispered, creeping toward the Hornet. ‘You assumed that I wish to flee, and that I have no desire to kill. But you are wrong. Pick up the weapon.’

‘No. I have had enough of this.’ The Hornet stood, resolute.

‘Take up your weapon,’ he urged, moving closer, his stance threatening. Only feet away, now. A good lunge and he could end this. He spun the sword in a blur of shining steel, saw Serrin flinch.

The Hornets above were calling out, their ripples arriving like screams and shouts. They were saying just the same thing as Nicolai. Pick it up!

Focusing on the young Hornet’s posture, merging closer with Psychology, he saw the tension in it. But it was contrasted against a strange, suicidal determination. This Hornet truly had decided to let Nicolai strike him down, driven by some insanity Nicolai couldn’t understand. The Mask suggested the root of this insanity lay in something called… principles.

And yet, Serrin’s body did not wish to die. He had a strong survival instinct—Nicolai recognised it, because he had the same.

If the Hornet wasn’t given time to think, he’d be unable to stop that instinct asserting itself. Serrin thought one of them had to die, but Nicolai did not believe that was the case. This was a test with multiple levels. To pass the first level, they had to fight.

Nicolai stepped, lunged, sword lancing out. He saw Serrin’s trembling hands tighten into shaking fists, felt the Hornet’s acceptance, his fear, his relief, a strange tangle of emotions. He sensed the Queen’s Soul Sense right above, gathering like thunderclouds.

But he didn’t aim at Serrin. The tip of his sword drifted under the hilt of the one planted before the Hornet. He flicked it out the ground, hooked it by the guard and launched the weapon spinning at Serrin.

The Hornet dodged aside in a flowing, effortless motion. One hand trailed out and snatched the sword from the air, instinctive and thoughtless.

Then Nicolai was on him. He struck out again and again, each motion fast and powerful, aimed to kill. And each time the Hornet blocked him. With a few quick steps and a beat of his wings, Serrin disengaged. He stared at Nicolai, eyes wide.

‘You are good,’ he murmured.

And in those eyes, Nicolai saw something he recognised: A hungry desire to fight. Simple love of combat. But welling up inside the Hornet was an opposing force. That same suicidal urge, driven by whatever mad “principles” he possessed.

And Nicolai saw how he was moving to drop the sword in another ridiculous, dramatic gesture. But he moved before the Hornet could, crossing the distance in a series of flowing steps. He struck, forcing Serrin to raise his sword to block, to fight back.

And as Serrin fought back, Nicolai stayed on him. He kept his motions relatively predictable, at first, but saw how Serrin was beginning to fall back into that state. Beginning to relax, starting to think.

So Nicolai struck out for real, looking to score hits, looking to do damage. Serrin took a slice across the forearm, spinning away in sudden shock. Nicolai pursued, vicious and unrelenting, and the dance of blades sped up again.

He was starting to enjoy himself. Their blades locked together for an instant, faces close. ‘Show me what you can do, great warrior,’ he hissed, and the press sprang apart as he kicked at Serrin. Above, the cyclone of black-armoured beings turned slow circles, chanting and yelling in their language of ripples.