Metamorphosis Alpha 2

by Craig Martelle (ed)

  He threw his at the group of five at the same time Achilles threw his perfectly at the group of three. The grenades made a soft Z sound and erupted in deadly neutrons that killed the U-mens they were thrown at.

  Beck raised his pistol and blew the head off one of the nearby males. Achilles fired twice and tore huge chunks of gore from the female. Before the third male could react, Beck shot him down.

  The pair spent several minutes waiting to see if other U-mens would come as a reaction to the combat.

  “Well done son,” Beck said. “We did great against tough opponents. You are about to have a fantastic tasty treat that is seldom offered. They went down to the three bodies and Beck took out his vibro knife and cut off the hands of the prey. He placed three of the hands in a special cooling pouch all wolfoids carried for just such an instance. He gave one of the female hands to his son for his cooling pouch.

  The son and the father happily started walking back to their packs, eating their tasty snack and wagging their tails in a job well done.

  Invasion from Beyond the Roof of the World

  By Alex Bates

  What happens when you’ve been on a spaceship for so many generations that nobody knows they’re on a spaceship any more? The world as you know it is flat, it has walls and a roof and immutable borders. What happens when that illusion is challenged, when doors to greater mysteries are opened? Daniil Jaxon is a gardener about to discover that his world is much bigger and stranger than he thought it was.

  With a grunt and a mumbled curse, Daniil Jaxon straightened up under the yoke across his shoulders. Water sloshed in the buckets hanging from either end of the sturdy carrying pole, an errant splash narrowly missing his moccasins. Daniil grit his teeth as he awkwardly sidestepped to steady the buckets – he hated getting his shoes wet. He’d be squishing around all morning, and that was an unpleasant way to begin one’s day.

  Daniil’s primary chore today, as it was most days, was to water the heavy, rubbery Quiet Vines that grew in a thick lattice over and around the walls of Fardock village. The walls were famous, and had allowed Fardock to become the largest human settlement that anyone had ever heard of. Twice the height of a man, thicker than the oldest tree, reinforced with ancient alloys harvested from the shells of great metal monsters, the walls had proven an ample defense against marauders, mutants and miscreants of all sorts. And the vines were an important component of those walls.

  This morning the gates were wide open, and despite the load across his shoulders, Daniil flattened himself against the inner wall to let a giant Bearoid pulling a cart go past. He casually knew this one, Ouran by name, and they nodded in mutual recognition as he grumbled by. The cart was piled high with something concealed under a tarp. It smelled both rank and sweet. The bear-men came in from the wilderness from time to time to trade, so whatever was under the tarp must have value, regardless of the smell. Traders such as Ouran were vital to the town’s prosperity, and besides, showing courtesy to a nine foot tall bearoid with claws as long as a human forearm was always a good practice.

  Once outside the walls, Daniil began his inspection. Today’s task consisted of inspecting and repairing damage from the last monster attack. The thing had come out of the darkness in the night several days ago, klaxons screaming, its tentacles hurling some sort of flaming spheres at the city walls. But, as always, the walls absorbed the attack, and the vines sapped the strength from the metal beast as it drew near the town. Its voice drawled off into static gibberish, its movements became sluggish, and the guards and townsfolk had been able to fill it full of arrows until it finally fell to the ground, dead.

  A few people had been paralyzed or burned, but with no serious casualties it had been considered a solid victory. The metal monsters were attacking more and more often lately – and the flaming spheres were new – but so far the town had held its own. This monster had seemed reluctant to engage up close, and had held back, seemingly targeting the vines.

  Of course, that was impossible. Everyone agreed that the metal monsters were mindless. There may have once been a time when they were benign, and it was obvious that they had been constructed by something capable of organized thought, but since before living memory the monsters had only ever sown chaos and destruction.

  He nudged an errant vine with his foot. This strand was straying out of its bed into the footpath.

  “Hey, get out of the way, the water is back where your roots are.”

  He poured some of the cool water from his bucket into the rich loamy bed at the foot of the wall. Stepping back, one could hardly tell that three days ago this section of vines had been burned by a monster. Some sooty residue was still visible near the merlons at the top of the wall, but the vines had already crept out to cover most of the damaged areas. In another day or two it would be as if the attack had never occurred.

  He kicked at the stray vine again. “Go on, get back. You know where you’re supposed to be.” The vine rippled slowly, tensing up. Daniil sensed that it had gotten the message. The tip started to curl backwards, and he knew that by the afternoon it would be back to creeping up the wall, doing its duty.

  The vines.

  There was something special about the vines. They made everything better. Old stories talked about the terrors of the Beginning Days. Back then, there were horrifying diseases and poisonous air and mutations sprouting everywhere. It sounded like something out of a nightmare. People living in holes, hiding from each other, never knowing what sort of hideous chimera would come up from the ground or out of the sky to trouble them next. Eventually small groups of humans had been able to band together, even to build houses and farms, but the world remained toxic. Plants with leaves like sword blades, babies born with fatal deformities or terrifying mutations.

  There were stories from the Beginning Days about friendly metal monsters – beings that helped defend humans from the monsters, replanted the soil, even provided medicine and aid. But it was never enough to thrive – just enough to barely exist. And then the metal monsters grew distant and strange, now they were just another danger in a world already full of menace.

  That’s why Daniil got stuck with the job of town gardener. Very few humans in Fardock had mutations, and few of those were significant, but Daniil was sensitive. Not a lot, but just enough that the vines could catch his meaning. They didn’t speak with language, not exactly, but Daniil felt that he and they had an understanding. Some unique property of the vines made things safe and calm, made the metal monsters sluggish and stupid, even seemed to prevent most extreme mutations. The vines drew the evil out of the air.

  He didn’t mind the work, he knew he served a useful purpose. He got to spend his days outside, he could go at his own pace, and nobody really bothered him. But it was tedious and repetitive. Sometimes he wished for a chance to do something different.

  He nudged the vine again with the toe of his boot. “All right, okay, go back to your bed. I’ll be back with more water later.” It slowly retreated, a little resentful, a little teasing. A vine with attitude. Daniil rolled his eyes and re-shouldered the yoke –

  **Daniil, will you please come see me, now?**

  He clenched his teeth and dropped the buckets. The voice sounded like ice-cold spiders crawling up his spine to the base of his skull and tickling the back of his eyes. Except, not at all like that, because it wasn’t a sound, it was just a voice in his head, and the spiders were all liquid-y… it was difficult to describe. But, that was the Circuit Tree. Difficult to describe.

  If the Quiet Vines and the walls were two of the wonders of Fardock town, the Circuit Tree was the third.

  Growing out of the ruins of a prehistoric edifice in the center of town, the Circuit Tree was the catalyst around which the settlement had been able to grow. Tall and gray, its bark was streaked with rents revealing the white wood beneath, crisscrossed with arcane silver geometries. The lower branches extended out at right angles from the trunk, little bell-like fruits hanging from them. The upper b
ranches were more like those of a normal tree, spreading out into a lush canopy, but the sharp green leaves had a shiny metallic element to them, and on a windy day they tinkled like breaking glass.

  The Circuit Tree was intelligent, psychic, and kind, as far as Daniil knew. Its mind was old and calm and quick and endlessly curious, fascinated by human activity, and, most usefully, it was able to speak to and command the Quiet Vines. It wasn’t the leader of Fardock, but it was the heart of the town. Without the tree’s wisdom and ability to mentally communicate with nearly any living thing, monsters would have long ago overrun the place Daniil called home.

  So, when the tree asked you to come perform a task, you listened.

  **Someone else will finish the watering, please come forthwith.**

  Daniil left the buckets on the side of the path and hurried back into the town, grateful for the break in routine. The Tree occasionally called on him to run errands or messages – its ability to communicate with things only extended a few hundred yards. But, because of Daniil’s sensitivity, the Tree could speak to him from a mile away, and so he had become its unofficial assistant.

  A crowd of people were near the Tree, pulling the carcass of the most recent metal monster towards its foot. Benn Rikson, the ten-foot-tall, four-armed blacksmith’s son was doing most of the work, but other burly villagers were helping, using round logs as a mobile platform, hurrying the rearmost log to the front as the dead metal creature rolled forward. Ouran the bear-man was there, too, sitting in the shade of the Tree, watching the humans work with what might have been an amused look on his face.

  **Please place the carcass here, to my sunward side.”

  There was a gap in the roots where the ancient concrete slab had been shattered and upturned by the growing tree, just about the right size for the metal shell. The Circuit Tree’s other roots were entwined in the bodies of a dozen other rusting metal monsters. The Tree wasn’t mobile like the vines, but it could, slowly, over a period of days, shift itself around. The villagers set to work dismantling the metal creature, pulling the shell and weapons off to be recycled. Once the carcass had been stripped of any useful outer parts, the innards were deposited in the gap that the Circuit Tree had created especially for that purpose.

  The Circuit Tree’s “voice” took on an echo-y quality that indicated it was addressing a group, rather than an individual. **Thank you. In a few weeks’ times I will have reached down with my roots into the monster’s electric brain. Perhaps I shall learn something from this one. The new fire weapon could be a serious threat.**

  The crowd, sensing the dismissal in the mental tone, began to disperse. Benn Rikson gathered up the metal sheeting and walked off to the smithy; everyone else returned to whatever their normal days might have been.

  Ouran the bear-man yawned, and the sight of his maw full of sharp yellow teeth reminded Daniil to be thankful that the Bearoids were mostly friendly. He reached up and flicked one of the low-hanging bell-like fruits with a finger.

  “So… you rang…?”

  He thought he sensed a chuckle in the colour of the Circuit Tree’s tone. **Always the wit, Daniil. Joking about sound to a being with no ears. The way you use language is so different from the way that I would if humans were not here.**

  Ouran cleared his throat and gestured to a lumpy pile covered by a tarpaulin at his side. “I brought these here seeking the wisdom of the Tree. I have found something new, and I do not think it is good.” His voice rumbled, seeming to come from his chest rather than his mouth. He reached over to the tarpaulin and pulled it back, revealing a pile of recently-cleaned animal furs, bones, and metal tools.

  Daniil squinted at the pile. “Are those animal bones…?”

  Ouran shook his head in the negative, sharp porcupine-like quills in his fur, rattling as he did so. “No. Not animals. Mutants. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  Daniil knelt down to take a closer look. “They look… awful.” He picked up a misshapen skull. It was vaguely cat-like, but one eye socket was larger than the other, the bone oddly rough, almost scarred in places. The teeth were offset so badly that it looked as though it couldn’t have fully closed its mouth.

  “And look at the skins,” Ouran growled.

  Setting the skull down, Daniil ran his fingertip across the skin. The fur was, in places, beautiful. Soft and spotted, almost sweet-smelling. But as he unfolded it, he stopped and pulled his hand back. Large portions of the skin were covered in dry open sores. Other portions seemed discolored, or bald and warty.

  “Are they diseased?”

  “Yes,” said Ouran. “I think so.”

  **Look at their tools, Daniil.**

  Happy to move on from the repulsive pelt, Daniil picked up one of the metal objects, a cylinder with a handgrip and a large boxy attachment on the side.

  “I don’t know what this is.”

  **That, Daniil, is a modified laser pistol. The others are an assortment of paralysis rods and laser weapons. All altered to have large batteries and some sort of outer casing.**

  Daniil’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, okay, I’ve heard those words before, but I thought those sorts of things didn’t work? They just sting a little and make funny lights or noises.”

  Ouran made a grumbling sound in the back of his throat and rolled his shoulders forward. “They work a little bit.” He twisted his shoulder to show a nasty burn on his back, his fur and quills blackened by laser fire. Seeing Daniil’s shocked look, Ouran continued. “They each managed to fire two or three shots before their weapons fizzled out and stopped working. They seemed surprised. I do not think they had ever encountered anything like me before, either.” He grinned and chuckled, fondly remembered violence implicit in his laugh.

  **The weapons are remarkably similar to weapons that the metal monsters wield. The alterations are comparable to the new forms we have seen in the ones that have recently attacked us.**

  “Wow. Huh.” Daniil sat down on a broken concrete slab. “That sounds like something important – but why bring me into it? I’m not a warrior or a hunter. Shouldn’t this be discussed with the Mayor?”

  **The Mayor likes that the metal monsters attack us at regular intervals. He has accrued great wealth by salvaging their shells and having them reforged into swords and tools. He is not concerned that the attacks have increased in frequency or severity, and he does not listen to me. He thinks that I can read his mind, and is convinced that anything I say somehow undermines his authority. He does not want to hear; so he does not hear. He does not want to know; so he does not know.**

  Daniil sighed in agreement. “Yeah… the Mayor is a real prick. But there are still hunters and soldiers –“

  **There is another reason I called for your help, Daniil.** The Circuit Tree interrupted. **I’ve been working on something new for a long time now, and this situations presents me with an opportunity to try it out.**

  There was a crack and a shiver in the branches above, followed by a sound like a chime, and one of the little bell-shaped fruits fell at Daniil’s feet.

  **Pick it up and peel the shell back.**

  The outer shell peeled off easily, revealing a teardrop-shaped center.

  **That is a seed.**

  Daniil turned it over in his hand, looking at it intently. “I didn’t know that you, uh, made seeds.”

  **I never have before. You humans are always making new things, the metal monsters have been evolving, I thought I might attempt something new, too.**

  “OK… so, do you want me to plant it somewhere?”

  **No, Daniil, I want you to accompany Ouran back to where he encountered the diseased mutants, find where they are from and what their connection is to the metal monsters, and I want you to bring the seed with you. There is a tiny sliver of my mind in that seed, and I think that as long as you are carrying it, I should be able to speak to you, no matter the distance.**

  Daniil blinked, not quite sure what to say.

  “Don’t worry, you
will be travelling with me. I will keep you safe from any dangers on the road.” Ouran had a glint in his eye as he spoke; Daniil took it as a friendly challenge, a subtle test of his grit.

  He grinned. “I’ve always wanted an excuse to travel!”

  ***

  Putting together a travel kit was simple enough. Ouran said that it was a three day journey for him alone, but that it might take four if he had to shorten his stride for a human. A cloak, food, water, a crossbow from the town’s stores, a backpack with a few other pieces of gear. Daniil’s bunk was plain and simple; he didn’t need much, so travelling light came naturally. The Circuit Tree found a young girl in town to take over the watering (it thought she might be a bit sensitive, too), and they were off by suppertime.

  Ouran had concluded his business early in the day and spent the afternoon gorging on delicacies that could only be purchased in a human settlement – bread, pastries, sweets, honey cakes, vast amounts of sweet berry jam, and of course cider and beer. There were regulations limiting how much cider one could serve to a bearoid (or any large non-human), but Ouran had a contented smile on his face and a bit of a bouncing roll to his step as he pulled his cart away from town.

  The seed hung from a leather cord around Daniil’s neck. He grasped it with his left hand and said, “So, can you hear me in there?”

  **Yes!** The Circuit Tree’s voice sounded smaller somehow, and a little echo-y, but it seemed excited in a way that Daniil had never sensed before. **This is wonderful! I have often envied those of you who do not have roots. I was not certain that this would work, but so far I am fully present, both trunk and seed.**

  “I’ve never been more than a mile from home in my entire life. I haven’t been quite rooted to one spot, but not too far from that, either. It’s good to get out into the world!”

  The area immediately surrounding the town was mostly farmland – rolling fields and orchards dotted with farmhouses clustered together behind low walls. For generations people had been re-seeding Quiet Vines in the outlying areas, so most of these walls and even barns and silos were overgrown with them.