Free Mech 3: The Empress by B. V. Larson

Occasionally, however, events took a grim turn and they were forced to dominate their host in order to ensure their survival and avoid the risk of exposure.
    Having two minds riding in one skull, one human and one alien made skalds behave oddly from the point of view of observing humans. The alien Tulk, even though they were generally quiescent, affected the nervous system of their hosts. To Garth, who’d once been a skald himself, the behavior of these human-alien hybrids was predictable and rational—but sinister.
    “What has become of your rider, rogue?” a skald asked him. She was a pretty waif, with slack features, pale skin and soft, padding feet.
    “I’m not sure,” Garth answered.
    He was decidedly nervous among the skalds, who’d once sought to kill him. He licked his lips continuously as he followed the skald girl into the central saloon of the VIP lounge. There, a central seating arrangement allowed a group of skalds to sit in a ring, holding hands. They appeared unconscious, but he knew they were aware. Their riders were communing. It seemed odd to have such a large group conferring at once. Tulk usually preferred wandering isolation, with rare moments of contact. Garth knew that they must be discussing the enemy aboard the ship.
    “Your answer is unsatisfactory,” one of the communing skalds said, speaking from the couch. This one was a male, and taller than most. He had a large head—the skull was fringed in white hair and almost bulbous in shape. As he spoke, he did not look up, but let his head loll to one side as if sleeping.
    Garth licked his lips again. “I’m sorry, but they took Fryx from me. I—”
    “Who do you refer to with a vague pronoun, rogue?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Who is: they ?”
    “Ah, well, Lucas Droad and his crew. They took Fryx and imprisoned him on Neu Schweitz. I don’t know what has become of him since that time.”
    The skald on the couch lifted his hand toward the female who’d allowed Garth to enter their sanctuary. His skinny arm extended toward her unerringly, despite the fact his eyes remained closed and his head continued to droop. Wordlessly, the girl approached and took his hand. She looked at Garth with a new sharpness in her expression. Her eyes had become piercing and judgmental.
    “He will do,” the old skald on the couch said.
    Garth understood that the old Tulk had borrowed the vision of the younger, and it was he who looked out of her pale, blue, wet eyes now.
    “Will do for what?” Garth asked. “I’ve come to help you. I know where the enemy is. The infection is still light, and early in its discovery. Perhaps they can be excised. I can help in this matter. The crew can join with the skalds and save the lives of all.”
    After this brief speech, during which Garth found his words tumbling out of his mouth and seemingly blurring over one another, the attitude of the girl shifted. She smirked lightly, then made an odd, barking sound. Garth realized she was laughing at him.
    “You are a fool, even for a rogue,” she said. “There will be no cooperation.”
    “Why not? We are all trapped on this ship. We die or survive as one.”
    “If we join the riderless human cattle in their struggle with the Skaintz, we will perish.”
    “You will perish in any regard, if the enemy is not defeated.”
    “This enemy can’t be defeated. They can only be avoided.”
    “Nonsense. I’ve read the archeological texts. The Tulk once fought the Skaintz. Your people beat them once—in this very section of space.”
    For the very first time, the Tulk controlling the girl’s speech paused, and appeared troubled. Garth knew that in and of itself was a triumph. He pressed ahead.
    “You can hide in here, but they will find a way in eventually. You don’t have a separate propulsion system, placing you at their mercy. If they tire of you, they can steer this vessel into the furnace of a nearby star. You must fight at some point.”
    “We have held council,