Sneak Peek - The Last Angel: Descent, Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Nemesis sidled up to Sammuramāt. <you knew there was an operational warp gate nearby and you didn’t tell me> It was an accusation, not an observation.

Flickers of orange and yellow seeped around the Naiad’s ablative plating. <three hundred light years is ‘nearby’ to you?>

<close enough, and apparently closer than that if you’re going to play semantics with me>

Sammuramāt matched the longer vessel’s ire with some of her own. <and have you told us of everything, Spearsong? did you tell us you were attempting to open a Parasite lock? other packs would kill you for that alone>

Red One wasn’t even a little surprised that Bathory had told her older siblings about that. <you don’t live here. i do. i’ve told you everything i know about your new home and you didn’t tell me this>

the Naiad admitted. <but it was not my place>

<even monarchs follow our codes. you know more than most how destructive an active lock can be once it destabilizes. your core will tear worlds asunder, but a when a lock breaches, the Current sweeps stars away. my mother was concerned what you would do. given that you tried to access Parasite technology, she was right>

<it wasn’t active<> Red One protested, <and when i realized what it was, i rigged it with destruct systems. it’s in a million pieces>

<the point remains, Spearsong. you are older than many but still very young in your outlook. you tamper, interfere and intrude in areas that do not concern you>

In the Spearsong’s clipped response, there was a sensation very much like amusement, or at least a passable simulacra of it. <like a Naiad?>

The yellow shifted to a pinkish hue <perhaps> Standard hull lighting appeared as the Naiad’s mood sobered. <but you are often reckless in how you do it>

<you say reckless. i say ‘curious’>

<recklessly curious... Tzu-hsi scolds me too often for following your example> Her sister, like many Naiads, believed there was little to nothing inherently interesting in deadtone. They truly were insects; small, swarming and chattering in simplistic vocalizations they laughably called language. They were fodder, amusements, distractions and occasionally threats to be culled, but nothing more. Sammuramāt found them fascinating.

<she looks out for you>

<and does Skintaker?> When Bathory had told Sammuramāt that the Spearsong had a sister, she’d scarcely believed it. The news of the Nibiru strain had been the only thing tempering her excitement to meet another of the Spearsong’s kind.

<she does. after a fashion>

<sisters...> Sammuramāt mused. <can be difficult, can’t they?>

<but they mean well. usually>

<usually> Sammuramāt agreed with a low-power comm hum. It was the Naiad equivalent of soft laughter, and it would have shredded the nervous system of any organic that heard it. True Speech was jarring and discordant even to an AI, but it didn’t have nearly the same effect on Red One’s systems. No matter how relatable or similar to organics that they might seem in mien or personality, there were always reminders of just how truly, fundamentally different they were.

<you’ve changed since i last saw you> That had been when she had first brought Sammuramāt, Tzu-hsi and Domitian to the mass grave once known as the United Earth Confederacy and set them loose, giving the predators free reign to hunt and terrorize the squatters and murderers who built their homes atop humanity’s ashes.

A ripple of light cascaded across Sammuramāt’s body, starting at the tip of her bifurcated prow, running along her figure. <yes. not as slender as i was, but... i like it> Sammuramāt’s lights facing Nemesis became a darker violet, vanishing like a gust of wind through cloud tops. <what do you think?>