by Ethan Proud
“You know, a team was sent out to dispose of the rest of your clan. Perhaps you should show a little more gratitude.” He leered at Deirde with his good eye and slapped her cheek in a mockingly affectionate gesture. Three of his fingers were evident in the welt rising on her cheek. Neither of the captives protested against their gags. Lago turned to his men. “Make sure they don’t fall out, we return to The Wreckage.”
Chapter Nineteen
The refugees of Hydra Seven followed their captors, or saviors, the distinction wasn’t clear yet, deeper into the subterranean realm. The Greylings ahead of them didn’t so much as hesitate at each fork, and easily traversed the world the Exos had never encountered. Jarrod shuffled along behind the silhouettes of Rio, Taiga, and Lepiro. He would have run and tried to find the surface, but the three creatures behind him gave him pause. He knew that he had no allies if things took a turn for the worst. He also hadn’t forgotten Taiga’s promise to Rio. But they had found The Source. He was no longer necessary. If they survived this first encounter, would they spare his life and accept that he had been honest with them, or would they still hold him responsible for the destruction of their colony?
His thoughts turned from such a grim subject, and he began studying his surroundings. Pinky sized molla caps burst from hairline fractures in the rocks and clustered around the bases of much larger fungi. The small fiery caterpillars grubbed along the caps like spots of molten rock. The air felt wet. After living on the surface for his entire life, Jarrod had no idea what humidity was. Other than uncomfortable. He knew that he disliked how his clothes stuck to his body and the clammy air pressed in against his face. If it had been much thicker, he could have chewed the air. He felt tiny droplets run down his temple like beads of perspiration. In the tunnel before them, an archway was hewn roughly from the rock. Motifs of gonis, molla, and humans littered the stone threshold. At its zenith was an object that Jarrod recognized immediately. After spending his entire life in its shadow, he would never forget what The Shrike looked like, no matter how crude the rendering. On either side of the arch the number nine was engraved. The gears began spinning in Jarrod’s brain. His hypothesis, though, was impossible. He glanced at his companions and decided to keep his mouth shut, they hadn’t much appreciated the last time he shared his insights with them and their kin.
Rio ghosted up next to Jarrod and surveyed the monolithic art. Jarrod felt Herma’s eyes boring into the side of his head, yet Rio spared him no notice. Jarrod winced as a flashback delivered him the image of the blade piercing Mycka’s side and his fists clenched. Rio felt the man tense and glanced down at the white knuckles.
“Consider us even,” Rio said, and turned to look Jarrod squarely in the eyes.
“How?” the man hissed, his purpled skin making his left eye all but glow.
“You…slept with Deirde.” Rio ground his teeth and started to turn.
Another flashback sent Jarrod to his tent at the moment he realized the Exo woman had never been with a man before.
“I did. Why didn’t you?” Before his smirk could break across his lips, a fist rammed into his nose and blood spilled after a loud pop. He doubled over in pain, cursed, and spat out one of his front teeth. He ran his tongue along the gap and discovered it was the left fore-incisor. He straightened and tried to ignore the pain coursing through his cheekbones to the back of his skull.
The Greylings around them bristled, clearly disturbed by the transpired events. The short dusting of hair that covered their bodies stood on end and they recoiled from the group, chattering, and crouching down. They tamped their legs as if ready to spring and Taiga raised in her hands in a universal peace gesture.
“You fool, Rio.” Lepiro swore and followed Taiga’s example.
“I-” He was cut short as Taiga let out a curt whistle between her teeth.
“Silence.” Her bobbed hair barely touched her jawline, and Rio could see the muscle clenched behind the curtain of hair. Both he and Jarrod followed her example and didn’t hesitate when she slowly lowered herself onto her knees to ensure that she was shorter than the Greylings.
The creatures chattered back and forth, their red eyes darting between their companions and their prisoners. Rio felt every hair on his body raise when he caught one word of the gibberish. Geelum. It sounded dangerously close to “Kill them”.
One of the creatures, perhaps a leader of the foraging party, had the last say. It raised its hands and waved them towards the ground, as if to say “stand down”. It shook its head and barked out an order before stepping forward and helping Taiga back to her feet. Four other creatures stepped forward to help the Exos back upright, two attended to Rio. A look at the hominid faces revealed apprehension. Taiga couldn’t blame them. She had always known Rio to be reserved, mild mannered, and completely devoted to Deirde. Being her husband’s best friend, she had known him reasonably well. Almost as well as she knew her husband. For a moment she mused over why she had never been with Rio.
Yuto had his time with most of her friends (she blinked back tears at the thought, all of them were dead now) and sometimes they were even invited back to the tent. Yet she had never had a chance with Rio. Maybe that had been what Earthling Marriage had been about. Needlessly shackling yourself to one sexual outlet for the remainder of your life. Taiga pursed her lips. She shouldn’t be bothering herself with thoughts such as these. Not out of consideration for Yuto, she could only guess what he and Deirde were doing right now—she had witnessed their flight from the camp—she needed to focus on survival.
They were led past the archway and down a series of steps roughly hewn into the rock. The igneous stairwell twisted around the edge of a shaft the plummeted straight down into the abyss. The Hydras had never seen a staircase before, had they been raised in The Wreckage they would have found its placement rather peculiar. Jarrod, on the other hand, jotted this occurrence down as more evidence to support his hypothesis.
After descending nearly seventy feet, the stairs leveled out and became an archway, cutting through the chasm towards a plateau of gleaming light. As they got closer, structures became visible. Hundreds of molla huts with rocky foundations were placed at intervals, forming a geometric pattern. Cages lined streets and were placed in front of each house, full of the glowing grubs which inevitably escaped and Greyling children would gather them back up with joyous choruses and return them to their lantern-like abodes. Small gardens of molla grew in mock planters in front of some of the homes, while others had what could only be interpreted as lawn ornamentations, weirdly shaped rocks, dried mollas tied together like a ristra of peppers, even beds of sand framed with smaller rocks and littered with lines and patterns drawn with an idle finger. Gonis of varying size floated lazily between the houses, singing their metallic songs. Herma and Icharus stared after the foreign gonis longingly, but settled on their masters’ shoulders nonetheless.
The Exos’ eyes grew wide as they were led past row upon row of houses, the level of civilization and luxury here surpassing what they experienced in Hydra Seven. After what seemed like close to an hour of walking they found themselves in the center of the colony. A bubbling spring was surrounded by nine buildings, larger than any of the other homes they had passed. The underground spring was more of a lake or massive pond, at least a half mile wide and more or less circular. A crowd of Greylings gathered around the lake chanting, their crescendo growing louder as the bubbles burst on the surface at a more frenzied rate. The chattering suddenly stopped as did the bubbles. The surface tension of the pool flexed and a massive creature breached the surface in a spray of droplets.
Herma and Icharus took to the air, screeching.
Chapter Twenty
The sheets and blankets on the massive bed were crumpled and in no particular order. The duvets had originally belonged to the pioneers on the Shrike and were a patchwork of original threadbare fabric and molla. In fact, they were more molla than anything else. On the blasted planet of AE625, there were few resources t
o go around. It was a miracle the Earthlings had even survived.
Lying on top of the sheets, with the exception of a stray leg or arm, were three of the Commanding Family members. Aqi was absent. A sheen of sweat glossed over the chests of Fleet, Kilo, and Mertensia. Fleet lay in the middle, while the other two flanked him. The bed was circular, made up of several cots that had been butchered and combined to make a much more accommodating sleeping arrangement. In the early days after the wreck conventional human pairings had been dominant, but slowly disintegrated as the outlook for their survival grew bleak. Before a random group of scouts returned after finding a second spring miles from the settlement, orgies and hedonism ran amok and the precious booze aboard had been drained in less than two weeks. It may not seem like a long period of time, but the 1,400 barrels of whiskey had been meant to last until a new mind altering substance could be brewed or synthesized on Earth 2.0. Fleet often wished he had been alive for that bender.
“The Hydra Seven Elders should have arrived by now,” Mertensia said and idly pulled at a strand of her long blonde hair until her arm could stretch no longer, yet there were still inches left on her mane. She let it fall onto her breast where it stuck to the sweat, and grabbed another errand strand. She did this several more times, before sitting up and pulling it all back behind her head and twisting it into a knot on top of her head. “Where has Aqi been?”
“Aqi has other interests now,” Fleet muttered somewhat distastefully. It had been two weeks since she last shared their bed, and she had always been his favorite co-leader.
“Other interests?” Kilo asked and sat up.
Fleet waved a hand dismissively. “No time for us. I am sure she is simply waiting for the return of the rovers.”
It was a pathetic attempt at a lie. He knew Aqi had taken a liking to Rhea, but whether or not she acted on it was a different matter. Any Commanding Family guilty of fraternizing with anyone outside of the family was punished by death. It was not a light accusation to make, thus Fleet kept it to himself, however bitter it made him.
“Perhaps we should be attending to such affairs rather than frolicking as we have been,” Kilo said and rose from the bed, in search of his clothes. He pulled on a patched pair of pants, and Mertensia followed suit.
“Must you two be so dull?” Fleet jabbed jokingly and gestured back to the bed. “We are in a game of hurry up and wait. In mere months we will be rescued from this damned planet. We might as well enjoy it before we are forced to adopt their cultural norms.”
With that gentle prodding, the two standing members shimmied out of their pants and crawled towards Fleet. He grinned. Aqi was missing out.
X
Aqi was not missing out. Nor was she engaged in such activities, but her lack of longing made it clear. Instead she was waiting in the banquet hall, which doubled as a meeting area… typically used as such as there were few occasions worth celebrating on AE625. The holiday feasts and parties were few, and rather ironic. The first was the Celebration of Landing, which took place over three days with molla wine (tea is a more accurate term) consumed by all residents of The Wreckage, not just the addicts. The second was called the Days of Desperation, dedicated to the two weeks in which the original survivors drank whiskey while they hastened to their deaths. This celebration lasted six days, molla tea was also a staple, as well as massive orgies, held in the banquet hall. During these six days Commanding Family members could engage in sexual activities with those below their caste. Two years ago, Aqi had met Rhea at one of these celebrations. They had met only two hours in and hadn’t been seen for the rest of the holiday.
Across the table from her was the lead medic, Abstor. He was an aged man, nearly as old as Treya. As such, he officiated over all the surgeries, but rarely participated. Most medics stopped practicing at thirty-six after arthritis set in. Their apprentices did most of the precision work until they too took on apprentices. Medicine on AE625 was largely holistic, and based on the properties contained in the molla, gonis, or sand dingoes. The antibiotic properties of one of the creatures was usually enough to treat most ailments caused by bacterium. However, sometimes the patient died before the proper cure was utilized. Luckily, bacterial infections were rare. Viruses could be ridden out by the patient, but for sexually transmitted diseases such as herpes and human immunodeficiency virus, which had persisted since the Human Days on Earth, there was no cure. Sexually transmitted diseases such as these though, had almost been removed from the population by confinement. In the worker classes, such as farmers and maintenance crews, the diseases thrived.
“We need a system of screening the healthy population prior to rescue to ensure that we do not expose ourselves to a pandemic aboard the vessel,” Abstor said pensively.
“Are you suggesting we leave them behind?” Aqi said suspiciously. She saw the wisdom in this, though the very concept was repugnant.
“Unless the ships from the Second Earth have adequate quarantine procedures. If not, we might as well remain here or arrive at our new home as lepers.”
Aqi curled her lip in disgust.
Abstor raised his hands defensively, palms facing the dark woman.
“I see the merit of your plan. And I’m afraid that we will have to utilize it,” Aqi said before he could justify himself. “It doesn’t mean I like it. Try to locate the burrows with the highest incidents of contagious infections. Perhaps we can remove individuals from the population and quietly leave them behind if need be. We do not need any riots.”
“I will be discreet,” Abstor said and left Aqi sitting at the table. He could sense her disappointment, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel his own. At his core, he was a pragmatist and the survival of the colony was more important than the feelings and lives of a few.
He headed to the medical bay, which still remained attached to the Shrike though it had been detached and set level on the ground some years ago and welded back to the ship. Much of the life support equipment wouldn’t have survived without being powered by the mainframe of the shuttle. He passed the hydroponic farms, the main dietary staple that took up the bulk of the massive room. The mycelium of molla was pressed against the glass walls of the hydroponic tanks, the gossamer fibers impossibly white and stinking of decay. Occasionally a stray body part of a sand dingo or goni pressed against the glass. The cryptic fungi acted much the same as they did on earth, perhaps they had been stowaways on the Shrike, and decomposed the deceased readily.
The gentle trickle of water belied the sinister nature of the hydroponic farms. On a resource scarce planet, anything of nutritional value had to be utilized. The deceased Exos were blended into a slurry and poured into the center of the tank, this way a stray finger or eyeball would be unlikely to find its way to the edge of the glass. However, there were always urchins, eager to be seen by their living counterparts. As he passed through the row upon row of molla tanks, he reached the Earthling relics. These plants had been some of the most decorated and adored crops on earth. Soybeans, corn, potatoes, squash, and tomatoes. They were only eaten during a harvest time, which coincided with their holidays. Only a portion of the fruits and vegetables could be eaten, the seeds were collected while the meatier portions would be devoured. He looked longingly at a plump red sphere, catching the artificial light and gleaming like a ruby. On Earth it had been called an ‘early girl’. Why, Abstor had no idea. He broke his gaze when he felt the hardened eyes of the farmers. Their faces were dirty, though actual soil didn’t exist on AE625 and they were growing hydroponically. The farmers often had the highest rates of bacterial infections due to the special ingredients used to offer nutrients to their food sources. The pumps in the vegetable gardens were more robust than those in the molla tanks, as they supplied partially decomposed gonis, sand dingoes, and humans. But the plants the Exos ate doubled as their waste removal system. Human shit was pumped into the vats and the plants greedily absorbed it through their roots. The potato beds were especially vile, they did poorly submerged in water
as the tubers became soggy and rotted quickly. Rather, they were planted directly in dung. In order to be harvested, the starchy roots had to be excavated.
Abstor pushed the door open and left the fetid air, breathing a sigh of relief as fresh clean air rushed through his nostrils, cleansing him of the filth. He was still three corridors from the med bay, so he hastened his step.
X
Treya and Toledo entered The Wreckage at the front of the combined colonies that made up the Wyrms. Both Treya and Toledo were in the rover, along with the man Treya had bedded. His name was Cain, and he had hardly left the old woman’s side since they first met. An alarm was blared upon their arrival, a loud siren. Though its sound was dissonant, it didn’t warn peril as it did on Earth. The single blast was a welcome and meant to alert the Commanding Family. Two calls, however, meant to rouse the Shrike Colonial Military. Treya allowed herself a smile, the Shrikers had no idea they had just greeted their enemies as friends. Surely she would have to meet with the Commanding Family first, then she would seek out Ellie.
The entirety of the Original Settlement lay before her. The Shrike was located centrally, to its left the goni breeding facilities. On the other side of the shuttle were the sand dingo rearing pens. To the far right were stone quarries, where machinery moved large blocks of rock and stacked them to the side. The Shrikers weren’t mining for mineral resources but digging to find water. On the other side of the crater were huts, some used the stones from the quarry as a foundation and the rest were made from scavenged materials from the ship. Barely visible from behind the Shrike were row upon row of outdoor crops, their yields not nearly as productive as the hydroponic gardens, but space was limited and had to be utilized.
The pealing laughter of children could be heard as the toddlers ran from hut to hut, holding whatever object they deemed suitable for a toy that day. Seeing so many children was strange to Treya, Rio had been the last child she had seen in fifteen years in Camp Seven, with the exception of the stillborn fetuses. She tried not to imagine the younglings running around simmering in a broth. Before they made it very far, they were approached by a soldier.