81 - With Steel Teeth

Darcy blinked at the miniature dragon on his hand.  “Yeh mean that there ‘r bunches of people o’er here?  That Prime’s been tryin’ t’ kill ‘em off, not just a thousand years ago but just afore he sent us here?  ‘s he completely fooked?... um... unbalanced?”

“We think he is... ah... The Emperor has just made connection with the Galactic Legal offices, through the machine that the CEO brought with him... ah... her now... Prime should be being arrested shortly.”

“What... do that mean fer usn?”

“Right now... nothing.  I believe that the Emperor and the Surdeniliarch and the Nadu and the Hippifrei, the coalition in other words, will be willing to hire your wage to continue growing your valuable crops...ah.  It appears that Prime’s Heir, Perrin the Fourth, is one of the complaintants.  You might get a new Prime, if this one is hauled away to a galactic prison.”

“This ‘s... weird.”

There was a sudden quiver, all through the fabric of the world, and everywhere there was code, everywhere there was part of the Great Hive, all the of the Hippifrei bone herds, the biomats of Terran plant overlay, everything stopped.  A voice quivering with rage echoed off every built or controlled surface, from every re-arranged genetic marker, from the bacteria seething in the sand on the wind.

“HOW DARE YOU.  THE PLANET BELONGS TO ME. YOU ALL BELONG TO ME. YOU VILE USURPERS OF YOUR ANCESTOR’S POWER. ALL OTHER OWNERS SIGNED THEIR PORTIONS TO ME AS THEIR HEIR.  I OWN THIS WORLD.  I CAN DESTROY IT WITH A WORD, WITH A THOUGHT. HOW DARE YOU SAY THIS IS NOT SO.  GLASS MOUNTAIN. SHOULD THESE CHARGES BE PURSUED, I AUTHORIZE DESTRUCT CODE OMEGA. STAND BY FOR AUTHORIZATION CODE...”

“Perrin Thurmontaler, the Third.” Another voice rose up, from the same code.  Flickering images appeared in the waving green of the asperagus fronds, and flashed for seconds against building walls.  Images against the sudden cloud cover, spreading shade over both Xanadu and Hinnemon, of a gigantic hut hopping on a chicken foot, a golden box opening and a heart rising out of it. A cup with an old woman floating in the air and the heart flying up to sink into her chest.  A cup, flying with a young woman, with blond and black and grey hair whipping around her as she rowed across the sky with a pestle.  “You will be stopped.  You tried to eat my children, with your steel teeth, old man.  I shall be your Baba Yaga, instead of you being mine.”