What was a sweep or two, when you had so many?
The subjugation on the planet below was progressing slowly, but normally – the inhabitants, poor foolish beasts that they were, were in the midst of fighting themselves in panic, trying to decide who would challenge the red ship in the skies, and making a bloody job of it.
The campaign came to an end a horrible noise, in her head – in all the trolls’ heads. Then the attendants were dying. And the Helmsman – well, he had given what he had given. He also had taken from him what all the others had taken from them.
And there was nothing she could have done to stop it.
The first few sweeps had been quiet. Sub-light speeds, the occasional scavenge mission – all her non-troll subjects remembered her, knelt down in fear. She’d even take on a few new attendants from the native populations – but eventually, inevitably, they’d start to whisper amongst themselves.
So she’d put them down, just like any other beast. One set would hardly last a sweep – so she would make sure to get something entertaining on her stops. “Entertaining” though, always seemed to be really gross.
Then the old war songs started to congeal on the edges of her mind. She couldn’t call back – it was frustrating. And occasionally, there was a groan of hunger. That terrible groan. Many, many nights, crying herself to sleep.
Then those barkbeasts started to bark back on her scavenging missions. All that meant was a little more time – a proper fear could still be established. Slowly, their barks became louder – to the point of trying to nip at her ship’s heels. She could no longer announce herself – swooping in and getting what she needed. The ship itself was well made – it could handle the job. But it made her feel more like a Pirate and less like an Empress.
And then she’d cry for other reasons.
The songs grew stronger. Whole. She’d remember the time before space. The revolutions. The outlaws. And in doing so, she found ways to make the raids so much easier. Let the barkbeasts sleep – let their own bloodbugs bite them.
They could talk now. Like a grub to their Lusus – as, indeed it always had been. Gl’bgolyb had lost a lot of weight, over the sweeps., amid the cries of anguish. Being more agile, the plentiful food of the sea was more satisfying – or at least, the cries of hunger less frequent.
Something was waiting. For the Condesce. It was not a troll, but something like a Lusus. It was not to be trusted.
She’d scheme, while knowing it all was in vain. Whatever it was, it was older than anything she’d yet known – even Gl’bgolyb. It had tricked history – even her history – into its own designs.
So what was a sweep or two, when you had so many? She would be part of this waiting thing’s designs. She could always use a change of pace.
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612 solar sweeps is a long trip.
This is a slight update to the original post on tumblr, to better fall in line with canon. It is also a repost, as apparently you can’t draft somthing with multiple chapters and I got confused.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057744
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