This is a boy’s adventure tale.
But this is not a boy’s adventure tale prepared by a stuffy old man in a tweed jacket with elbow patches. This is the sort of story that a boy might imagine for himself, filled with action, mystery, a red-hot space queen, and nary a whiff of precious moral instruction.
Well, maybe there is some moral instruction. But this is Reversed Black Maria. Nothing is as it seems, and the thread may be well and truly broken, at least as far as poor, delicious Oskar is concerned.
###
The Galaxia’s sick bay put Old Oslo’s community hospital to shame. Oskar counted forty-six robosurgery units as he jogged to keep up with Inna. She carried his grandfather in her arms with effortless ease, as if he were nothing but a down-stuffed doll. Her choice of surgeries was the largest, a brute of a machine the size of a small flyer. It disgorged a gleaming silver table. There, Inna gently deposited her mutilated burden, still sealed tight in his space suit.
“This is the best surgery available,” she said, waving open a small control constellation. “It can regrow a living man from a severed head, or so I’m told. Your grandfather will definitely make it.”
Oskar gazed down at the old man. A shock of thin hair had fallen across his eyes. He brushed it tenderly aside.
Inna watched him while she programmed the surgery. “Your grandfather is a valiant man. He didn't deserve this humiliation, and I'm going to make someone pay for it,” she said. The machine hummed, and the table slid inside. She checked the display. “Good. He’s already stable. Minimal shock and no internal injuries. His arm has already begun to regrow.”
Oscar shook his head. “He hated his new arm. ‘An affront to my honor,’ he called it.”
“It was not. Nevertheless, I’m going to return Hendrick in the same condition I received him. Your aunt will never let me live it down if I don’t.” She dismissed the controls. “There. The docbot gave an estimate of four hours, which means he’ll be done before we come into range of the realtime network. We might even have time for a round of drinks before my retainers arrive.”
“Thank you, Inna,” Oskar said. An unexpected sob watered his dry, smarting eyes. He hastily wiped them, lest she see him cry.
No such luck. Inna laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be ashamed to cry, Oskar,” she said quietly. “You suffered a lot today. Your grandfather and I owe you our freedom. We would have been lost if you hadn’t kept your wits. Whether you know it or not, you’ve won a great deal of honor for yourself. Thank you.”
Oskar proudly sniffed back his tears. “It was nothing, Inna.”
“Bullshit. No man can lie to me. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Sorry. You’re right. It was hell. Your body didn’t stop when you died.”
She bit her lip. “I was afraid of that. I saw the mess I made on the landing. My servants and allies say I’m a goddess, but I know different. I’m a monster, Oskar. The Arzenekoi Chaoslords call me That Which Should Not Exist. They aren’t wrong. I destroy everything I touch, even the people I love. I destroy them most of all.”
“I won’t blame you, Inna. None of this is your fault.”
“It’s all my fault. I came to Earth unannounced and unescorted. Something had to happen. How could it not? To make matters worse, when those fools attacked us I let myself go, because I was angry. The cost of my bloodlust has yet to be reckoned. Oskar, it would have been better for everyone if I had stayed away.”
A great passion arose in Oskar. He looked right into her delirious silver eyes and spoke words that shocked him to his soul, because he had no idea they were in him. “Inna, if you had stayed away, I would never have met you. I would never have fought at your side. Today is what I was born for. There is nothing in life that I would trade for having found you. Nothing. I will be perfected in you.”
She blinked, astounded. “Oskar, you flatter me, but what are you saying? Are you alright?”
“I’ve never been better. Don’t reproach yourself. You have a right to be who you are. Today is destiny. I know it. You know it. Accept it. Accept me. I love you.”
Before he knew it, he’d swept her into an embrace. An awkward embrace, to be sure–he was a head shorter that she–but one that she readily returned. Their lips met in a kiss even more passionate than the one before. But this time, her mouth was runny. Hot rivulets of saliva streamed down Oskar’s cheeks and puddled in the neck dam of his suit. From deep in Inna's hard, flat stomach came a rumble like great engines roaring to life. Her teeth closed on the tip of his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. It aroused him unspeakably.
She shoved him away, aghast, her face white as a sheet. “What is this?! What the hell am I doing, Oskar?” she demanded.
The answer was blindingly obvious. “Taking what is yours by right.”
She took a step back. Her face hardened. “I think I know what’s going on. On that night in Oslo, did you taste my blood?”
It did not occur to him to lie. “Yes.”
Inna sighed and leaned heavily against the side of the surgery. “Goddamn it, Oskar. What were you thinking? You’ve ensorcelled yourself! Blood calls to blood. Have you got any idea what that means? What you consumed is bound to return to me.”
“Take it, then,” Oskar replied, arms outstretched toward her, beseeching.
“You know not what you ask for!” she shouted. “This day I have died once, and twice eschewed my rightful meat. You cannot imagine my emptiness, or the temptation that rages inside of me. It takes all my willpower to remain human. If I falter, the unthinkable will swiftly come to pass. I’m going to find some food and drink. It helps, sometimes.” She brushed past Oskar and bolted from the sick bay.
In his madness, he followed at a dead run.
When he finally caught up to her, she was standing in the doorway of the galley. The interior was in shambles. Decompression had blasted open every cabinet and drawer. The deck was littered with exploded packages and awash in spoiled food. Oskar made to enter, but Inna stopped him.
“There’s nothing left,” she said. “The other galleys will be the same, but I’ll check anyway. Go to the ops center. There’s a refrigerator under the bar. Maybe it’s intact.”
Oskar looked at the food-strewn deck. “Can’t any of this be saved?”
“It would nourish my body, yes. But it isn’t my flesh that hungers. For food to serve as a sacrifice, it must be the choicest meat, not salvage.”
“That’s strange.”
“That which expresses itself in me is older than mankind. Its cravings don’t conform to our standards. Now, go!”
Oskar went. The ops center was adjacent to the atrium. He relocated it easily. Like the galley, it was a disaster area. Inna’s immense whiskey collection had exploded, peppering the compartment with broken glass. The sculpted carpet squished underfoot. The smell of liquor was overpowering. The refrigerator Inna mentioned was wrecked. It contained nothing edible. But far back in one of the racks, Oskar found a bottle that by grace of God and dint of thick glass had not burst. He’d just placed it on the counter when Inna entered, licking the fingers of her gloves.
“You found something?” Oskar asked.
“The chateaubriand. I’m sorry. It didn’t help.”
“Maybe you should eat more.”
She belched enormously. “I ate ten kilos, raw. Frozen, actually.”
Oskar goggled. “In just five minutes?”
She refused to look at him, but stared at a spot on the wall. “Less, but I wasn’t timing myself. I feed...dynamically. Monster, remember?”
“You aren’t a monster, Inna. You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you, but you’re wrong.” Her eyes locked on the bottle. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked, her mood brightening.
“Guillon, aged fifty years.”
She smiled broadly. “Oskar Winter, you are truly a god among men. Here, I have something for you.” She extended a keyfob.
Oskar received it dubiously. “What is this?”
“It’s my master key. On the decks above this one, there are four hundred staterooms. Pick one at random and lock yourself inside. Once you’re settled in, sober the hell up. My blood is powerful, but you are a man with free will. Take a cold shower, sleep, jack off, do whatever it takes to remember who you are, and why you don’t want to be devoured by me. I’m too fond of you to let that happen.”
Oskar was abashed. They’d come so close to getting away scot-free, only to be imperiled afresh by his foolishness. “I’m sorry, Inna. I really screwed up. I’ll get myself under control, somehow. What will you do?”
She snatched the bottle from the bar. “Hide. Drink. Digest my disgusting supper and relax, if I can. Whatever you do, don’t answer if I call, and stay in your cabin.”
“Where will you hide? We’re on a starship.”
“As if I’d tell you, you sweet morsel of a man. Get out of here. I’m serious.”
"There must be another way. A drug, maybe?"
Inna’s expression turned cross. “There is no cure for magic, Oskar. We’ll talk again after I’ve received my due. Unlike my appetite, my willpower is not infinite. Your tender young flesh calls out to me louder every second. Go!”
She pointed to the door, her pretty mouth dripping like the maw of an immense, famished beast.
Oskar left. Half reluctantly, for the thought of being devoured by Inna enticed his besotted soul to distraction, and half in terror for his life.
Magic sucks, he thought.
###
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
