by D K Girl
A man lay prone on a white porcelain examination table. He was surrounded by monitoring equipment, which hummed and beeped with electronic declarations. Here lay the result of the First Meld. The first of five gallu to be sent by the goddess from Kur. This creature was only a guinea pig; he would not be a hunter as the other Four would. He would not be a part of the search for Dumuzi, the demigod long buried inside the living, breathing flesh suit of a human. This gallu was to test the carapaces and enable the Syranians to train for what was to come.
‘The design is holding?’ he said, not taking his eyes from the slow rise and fall of the man’s chest. There was no real intake of oxygen involved. The movement was all for show.
‘Yes, it is.’ Blake stood alongside him, close enough that the fabric of their sleeves touched. There’d been a time when they had been even closer. A one-off that neither wished to repeat. Discovering that what they really desired were the long comfortable silences and the acceptance of the fact that they were willing slaves to their work. Blake didn’t give a toss if he stuttered; she barely listened to him at all. ‘What do you think? Is this what they wanted?’
‘I believe so.’
The Technician’s work was flawless. Tamas had watched Blake build every part of the shell that lay before them now. From the very first sketches of the metallic skeleton, to the development of the tools needed to work with the Syranian metal Telteriun, to the development of the faux skin that bound it all together. This human carapace was a constructed masterpiece, but for all intents and purposes, a cage. The gallu had to be restrained in order to be controlled. And control would be needed when they would be used like hunting dogs to find Dumuzi.
The artificial man looked to be in his late twenties. His upper body was bare, his lower body clad in green linen pants that didn’t quite cover the sharp V-shaped muscles running from his hips towards his pelvis. His skin was a deep olive, much darker than Tamas’s own, with a square defined jaw and chin; dark, heavy brow and strong flared nose. The man was average height – the Syranians would tower over him – but his body was taut, with a hint of muscular tone that suggested greater underlying strength. Blake had literally taken him from the cover of a magazine, several magazines, creating a mash-up of two Iraqi models she’d discovered online. Her creation was a living Photoshop image. Impossible perfection. A reflection of that brief moment at the beginning of all this when Blake had been dazzled by the divinity around her.
But Tamas had seen the other carapaces. Her beguilement had long since passed.
‘You’re not saying anything,’ Blake said, adjusting the circlet around the man’s head which fed back vital-sign data. ‘What does she think of Azrael?’
‘Azrael?’ Tamas stood slightly back from the table. He’d thought the Syranian metal would contain the gallu’s energy entirely, but the punch to his senses told him otherwise. Between that and the wild, darting sensations the goddess sent through him, Tamas’s skin felt fit to burst.
‘You said it didn’t have a name, the thing she sent through.’ Blake ran fingertips across the crown of her head, doing little to tidy the uncharacteristically untidy ponytail she’d bound her jet-black hair in. ‘I figured your boss wouldn’t mind if I named it.’
‘Named it after the angel of death?’
Blake shrugged. ‘It seems as good a name as any. These things are coming here to kill someone, aren’t they?’
A catch in her voice caught his attention. Since the days of university when they’d studied together, he’d only ever seen Blake’s emotions swamp her once – the day she’d stared down at Kira’s broken body, fresh from the wreck that had taken their father. As she’d watched her sister’s life ebb away with the blood they couldn’t stop pouring from her busted organs, Blake had shed a couple of tears, but minutes later she’d been unreadable again. Everything had been locked away.
‘Well, yes. But not this one.’ He wanted to say something that would clear the darkness from her face. ‘Not Azrael. He’s a test run, a prototype. And just think of where this tech will –’
‘Tamas, it’s okay. A deal’s a deal, and I’m holding up my end.’ Blake pulled the folds of her too-large blouse tighter around her. ‘I simply need some processing time after last night. So if your boss is done, I’d like to tidy up here and get some sleep before the next stage.’
Tamas’s answer was decided by the arrival of a lab tech, a young woman with short-cropped red hair and full cheeks. She knew better than the cleaner. She didn’t say a word to Tamas, just gave a slight nod to acknowledge him, and then she moved to the back of the tech room, busying herself with a laptop at a standing desk. Blake ushered Tamas outside, leaving no doubt that his time was up. She spoke to him as she walked him out into the chamber, but Tamas could barely make out the words through the shocking rush of tinnitus filling his skull. The goddess, his boss, was indeed done. Ereshkigal slipped from that place she coveted in his mind, just as Blake turned and left him. Neither spared a thought for the flesh-and-blood man stumbling his way across the empty cavern, his now-godless head filled with thoughts of a time when he would not be so invisible.
Kira - 4
Kira stepped out of the service elevator behind Rossiter and dry-retched. A giant industrial bin stood to their left, lid up, cavernous innards empty.
‘Fuck me, that stinks.’ Kira placed a palm over her mouth and tasted sambuca against her skin. ‘Oh Jesus, I need a shower.’ She tried to run her fingers through her mop of curls, but one knuckle deep, the journey was thwarted by giant knots. ‘Shit, balls, shit.’
Rossiter waved a giant paw at her. ‘Keep it down.’
There was nothing Kira loved more than being shushed after no sleep and with veins still full of booze. She opened her mouth, ready with a few choice morsels, but caught sight of the main chamber of level eleven through the narrow glass panes on the door ahead. The words slid back down her throat. Her sister stood with Tamas by the world’s lamest spa. Some mouldy old well that was supposedly super important, full of rare extraterrestrial water. Or some crap. Her guts leapfrogged as she watched Blake. The weirdest thought of running to her and giving her a hug crossed Kira’s mind. Yeah, right. That would go down like a lead balloon. There had been no hugs since . . . oh fuck it. Hugging was a bad idea. Kira could count on one hand how many times she’d been down here. One hand too many. It was just wrong to be this far underground, this was a domain for burrowing creatures, groundhogs, or whatever things burrowed. Not humans. Fitting, she supposed, considering down here was all about aliens.
‘She looks like shit.’ It wasn’t a whisper, but it was as close as Kira could be bothered to get. ‘So does Tamas. Seriously, those two need to get out into daylight more often. Oh my god, is that what she’s going to tell me? Blake’s a vampire? I knew my sister was a freak.’
She punctuated her words with a slap of her hand against Rossiter’s shoulder. Might as well have slapped a mountain. He glowered at her, narrowing his dark eyes to the barest slits, and pressed a finger against his lips. Seriously, why the hell had she been summoned down here if she was supposed to hide out with the garbage? There were much better things, and people, to be doing on a Saturday morning. Speaking of which, the bulge in Rossiter’s pants was mesmerising. Sure, she’d never go there, ’cause yuck, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t impressive. Didn’t steroids usually kill that kind of hardware?
‘My eyes are up here,’ Rossiter hissed. ‘Focus, will you? Try to at least act sober.’
Behind them, the elevator doors closed with the barest brush of sound. There was a clunk and a whir, and the elevator drifted upwards. Kira swallowed hard, trying to block out the sound as it grew more distant. They were a long way down, and right now, there was no immediate escape. It pissed her off, the way that thought made her fingers shake. Although, it could have been the line she’d shared with Liam that made her tremble like a jellyfish, not the enormous amount of dirt and rock that stood between her and sky.
‘Le
ad the way, giant man.’ Kira swept her metal arm in a flourish, and the oversized buckles on Perry’s vinyl jacket clinked with the movement.
‘I told you, we’re waiting till Tamas leaves. Blake doesn’t want anyone to know she’s brought you down here. We weren’t expecting him, not after…’ Rossiter’s words dissolved in the air as his fingertips tapped out an uneven beat against the brickwork. Kira considered asking him what the ‘not after’ referred to, but decided that on the scale of one to ten fucks given, she was sitting at a one. The answer would involve some engineering and technical boring-as-bat-shit lingo that would reduce her to tears with its inanity, and she didn’t feel like crying.
‘What a pity. Tamas is like my best buddy.’ Kira sighed. ‘I’d love to say hi.’
Rossiter ignored her, eyes fixed on the two people at the centre of the enormous cavern. Most of the Facility knew exactly what Kira thought of Tamas. That he was a dick. A dickless dick. Perry had said once that jealousy might be at the core of it. That Blake spent more time and shared more secrets with the insipid little shit than she did her own sister, and Kira didn’t like it. She’d rewarded Perry’s deduction by stealing his car and disappearing for twenty-four hours. He’d been well pissed. Obviously, he loved his Audi more than she’d realised.
‘Holy shit.’ Kira jumped at a thought. ‘Is Tamas a vampire too?’
But Rossiter had reached what she liked to refer to as his ‘K-threshold’. When he was done with her shit, he went silent. Didn’t bite when she tried to throw a line. No way in hell would she ever tell him, but Kira kind of liked the impenetrable wall of silence he put up. Her gaze moved back to her sister. Blake had escaped the curly-hair curse, and her perfectly straight shoulder-length black hair was in its usual ponytail. But usually it was pulled back so hard she wouldn’t need a facelift for years to come. Today it looked as though field mice had held an MMA match in the strands. And if Blake lost any more weight, there would be no skin to tuck back in a facelift. The long-sleeved pastel-green shirt and ill-fitting black pants seemed to be the only thing holding Blake’s skeleton together. Fuck, she was gaunt. Gaunt. Man, that word needed to be used more, Kira decided.
Finally, Tamas turned to leave. He had his arms wrapped round his belly, as though he felt like Kira did right now, not trusting her stomach contents to stay where they were. He was thirty-something, but he was moving as if he were ready for a Zimmer frame. Kira made a mental note to buy one and have it put in his room. Hilarious.
‘Right. You’re sorted then.’ Rossiter moved back over to the elevator. ‘I’ll leave you two to have your usual pleasant conversations.’
A moment later the twin silver doors of the elevator slid back. It wasn’t empty. The occupant stared directly at Kira. Her breath jammed into the back of her throat, just as it did every time she saw the guy. It had been a while.
Kira lifted her hand, flicked out a lazy wave. ‘Eron, hey, how’s the banishment going? They still got you in the naughty corner?’ Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen had always worked well.
Eron’s expression didn’t shift from a sulky supermodel pout of disinterest as he stepped from the elevator.
‘I’m sure you are aware of the circumstances. I was not permitted to attend the First Meld last night,’ he said, his alien accent lacing his English with a vaguely Eastern European lilt.
‘Totes. Must have sucked, not . . . melding.’ Kira shrugged.
What in all hells was a First Meld? And who the fuck cared? Unless it was some ET orgy, in which case where the fuck had her invitation gone? Least they could do was reward her for keeping the BIG secret all these years. No easy task keeping quiet about the aliens in the basement when ethanol was pretty much your best friend.
Christ, he was beautiful. Lips too full, and curves tracing a salivating, and confusing, line between the hardness of a dude’s features and the fleshier, more tantalising delicacy of a woman’s. All the aliens had the androgynous thing going on, but none of them skirted the feminine line quite like Eron did. If her heart hadn’t been a chunk of machinery, and it could actually beat, it would have thumped like a friggin’ pole driver right then. Kira forced herself to take a breath. Get a grip. Control the little monster between her legs.
Eron nodded to Rossiter, who in turn nodded back, muttering something about them not wasting time in here and getting to Blake.
‘I’m heading back to surveillance. Keep an eye on things,’ Rossiter said, but no one paid him any mind.
The elevator doors closed and they were alone. Eron’s gaze rested on her. His face was framed by his long silver-white hair. From this distance his eyes were two orbs of complete white. But she knew that close up, very close up, there was the barest hint of blue beneath the snow. The hue always shone just a little brighter when her fingers found a particular spot, right up high on his inner thigh. Things got a little warmer in her panties and Kira turned away. So much for getting a grip. What in all the holy bejesuses was Blake up to?
The door separating them from the main chamber slid open. Blake stood there, all five foot three undernourished inches of her. A button was missing about halfway up her pastel-green shirt, hinting at a flesh-coloured bra beneath. Tweezers were desperately needed to launch a plucking attack on her dark eyebrows. Kira chewed at the dry skin on her bottom lip. She’d not seen Blake in a month. B had never been a clothes horse, never even worn mascara, but boy, she’d let things slide in a big way.
Blake glanced at Kira, her gaze darting up and down, but her expression gave nothing away. She turned to Eron.
‘We need to make this brief. Come with me.’
‘Hey, sis, missed you too. No hugs?’ Kira raised her arms and pursed her lips. ‘Maybe a smooch?’
‘I don’t have time for your childishness, Kira –’
‘Saying hello is childish now? Wow, things changed a lot while I was in Bali.’
‘Just hurry up, Kira. Eron, this way.’
Blake turned and strode away, purple boots barely making a sound on the packed-earth floor. Despite the money they had to throw at things, Tamas wanted the cavern kept as close to natural as possible. And whatever Tamas wanted, he got. The guy couldn’t look Kira in the eye without his face blooming deep red, but he had Blake and most of the Facility wrapped round his little finger. Amazing what cash did to a person’s popularity. Kira could vouch for that. Jogging to keep up, she fell in behind Eron, enjoying the view.
‘I fail to understand the necessity for my presence here, Technician,’ Eron said.
Kira wrinkled her nose. The nickname the aliens had given Blake was so fucking lame. It made Blake sound like some kind of rogue dentist. A rogue dentist who could walk superfast when she wanted to. Blake easily outpaced them across the chamber and ignored Eron’s question. He strode after Blake in slo-mo like an admonished toddler who doesn’t want to follow too close after mummy when she tells him to hurry up. He kept darting glances at the main door of the chamber. And at her. She could see the looks from where she hid behind her knotted shock of black hair. But he wasn’t exactly making goggly-eyes at her. When something irritated Eron, he would push his long silver locks behind his ears, over and over, despite the fact that they hadn’t come loose. His fingers were in overdrive right now.
‘All good there, big guy?’ Kira came out from her little hairy hidey-hole and drew alongside him. The guy actually flinched, shuffled away. Nice. How to make a girl feel good about herself. Ass.
‘I don’t understand why I am here,’ he said.
‘You and me both, gorgeous.’
Eron shrugged his narrow shoulders and fluttered fingertips to his lips. As if she were leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Jesus, they’d fucked around, not gotten married. Kira moved away, pulling Perry’s jacket tighter around her. Fair enough though really. Being put on lockdown by his uptight captain as punishment for sneaking off-site and playing with human pussy must have sucked. Captain Nex had kept Eron underground for over a month. After her happy time with E
ron had become common knowledge amongst the other aliens, some of the looks cast her way could have killed her more dead than she’d been on the operating table three years ago.
The thud of Blake’s boots reverberated around the cavern. The near-deserted cavern.
Maybe that was why Blake had chosen this time to get her down here, while Captain Nex and his buddies were in their pray-pray session. Kira glanced around the chamber. There was a definite lack of any other living beings in the cavern. Or nonliving, for that matter. No trace of even one of the shit-scary metal cats usually lurking around here. Creepy fucking things. Robots with bodies like silver cheetahs, but headless. Who designs something like that? Fucked-up nerds, that’s who. Tamas and Blake had designed them a few years back for security, supposedly. So where was all the precious security now?
‘Okay.’ Kira stopped dead, the alcohol leaving her system far faster than she would have liked. ‘Back the truck up, sis. This load ain’t leaving till you spill. What the hell is going on?’
Eron - 5
The crispness in the air, the hum of last night’s energy, laced every breath Eron took. The very particles of oxygen were alive with it. Eron stared hard at Blake’s back – as much to show his disapproval at the summons as to give himself something to focus on other than Kira. ‘I believe that is not an altogether unreasonable question, Miss Beckworth. As I said, I do not see the necessity for my presence here.’
The elder Beckworth sister did not halt her rapid journey across the chamber, despite Kira’s demand for explanation. ‘I brought you here to provide safety, Eron,’ Blake said. ‘Your presence is a precaution only. And as you are currently out of favour, I’m counting on your discretion.’