Metamorphosis Alpha 2

by Craig Martelle (ed)

  “Something that,” I grunted, “is even more dangerous than the wolfoids. It can kill us all if it isn’t stopped.” I ducked under a blow that would’ve otherwise taken my head clean off.

  “Have you noticed,” Jan-Tar responded, “that the wolfoids are likely to kill us first?” My human was out of breath, we were both near exhaustion and collapse. The rags around his stump dripped blood as he struggled to fight on.

  From across the pasture I heard the android voice, “Initiating genetic restructuring.” I knew that time was running out.

  “All of us,” I repeated. Those words hung in the air as we were pressed ever closer to one another. I felt Jan-Tar Owen seem to deflate for a moment.

  “You’re a good girl, Mitzi,” he said, his voice filled with resignation. “Now…sic ‘em.”

  With tears in my eyes, I obeyed my human.

  ***

  I couldn’t tell you the exact moment when my human died. The moments after his final command became a blur of motion and pain. Mercifully, only fragments of memory remain. When I came to my senses I was next to the android’s unmoving form as we both lay in a steaming pool of what had once been wolfoids and sh’poids.

  The remaining sh’poids cried and bleated in pain as some transformation initiated by the android still continued. They were growing larger and mutating, some even developing heavy, curved horns. I dragged myself across the pasture, trying to find my man. The pain was unbearable, and I blacked out a number of times. Unsure of where I was, I stumbled on to the ramp and tumbled down into darkness.

  I don’t know how long I lay there, my broken body screaming, howling in an attempt to drown out both my physical and mental anguish. Holding up my forelegs, covered in the bands of my prior humans, I prayed to the Cap’tahn to let me die. Apparently, he disagreed. Eventually, as I grew hoarse from howling, the pain diminished to merely agonizing. I crawled forward through the underworld, calling on reserves of energy that I didn’t know that I had. At one point l hallucinated, seeing a darkly-bearded human standing before me. My flesh felt like it crawled with snakes, but the strange yet somehow familiar figure reached out to comfort me and spoke words I could not understand.

  “Κερβερος,” the man intoned with a voice like distant thunder, “καλό σκυλάκι.” I felt my tail wag at what I instinctually understood to be praise. I heard the crow of a rooster, and all was darkness once more.

  When my vision cleared, I found myself in the stockpile of supplies. Lying next to me was one of the pale boxes. I stared at it for a moment, trying to understand the connection between the dark symbol that was emblazoned on one side, and its function. I had long been warned to take care with these artifacts, for they could have strange side effects for those who were not human. I was too exhausted to care. I placed one hand on the box and intoned the strange words that would invoke its power.

  “Critical Care,” I rasped – and then all was light.

  ***

  I dream in color.

  Endless colors wrap around my legs, stretching to my human-like paws and remind me of my former humans. Each band is a remembrance of the one who had worn it.

  I awake and rest my paw on the only piece of gray remaining in my life: the band I took from Jan-Tar’s fallen form. My eyes take in the endless colors of the other bands – the browns of the soil, the greens of the grass, and the blues of the light-cycle sky that, I am told, match my very human-looking eyes.

  Bob Brinkman

  Having been a stable hand, swordsman, fire-breather, and so many more odd turns of livelihood, it is not hard to believe that Bob is also a lifelong gamer. Dogless, he lives with his wife and three cats in Southwest Florida and has been published by Chaosium, Goodman Games, and even in the pages of Muppet Magazine. He co-hosts the Sanctum Secorum podcast (www.sanctum.media) and regularly contributes to its companion ‘zine. This is his first published work of fiction.

  Frenemies

  By Christopher Clark

  Long and bloody

  Was the struggle against the Horbit.

  Tho’ they numbered not many

  They did not easily die.

  Many of the Heroes of the Kroo

  Turned traitor,

  Befriending the violators,

  Aiding the Horbit

  In their vile predations.

  Only we, the Lamya

  Remained steadfast

  Our only friend

  The Great War Don.

  She is friend enough.

  Lila looked once more at the clock as it digitally clicked away the seconds. She wasn’t normally the nervous type, and none (well, maybe Sanchez, God rest his soul) ever thought of calling her a ‘mother hen’, but it had been three days; three days with no word, and no answer to the coms. Lila decided to try one more time before pushing the panic button. She picked up the short wave receiver and pressed the call button.

  “Mike, its Lila back at the lab. Do you read me?” Lila paused a moment, waiting for Mike’s reply. Not even static broke the silence.

  “Mike, dammit, check in! This is Lila,” she tried once again. Again, nothing stirred in the ether. The radio remained silent, almost unconcerned. Maybe she was over-reacting, but she couldn’t wait any longer. Choking back a sob, Lila walked over to the computer view screen and placed her wrist band into the receptacle.

  “Login, Warden,” she huffed at the screen.

  “Welcome back, Med-tech Lila Burke,” the view screen intoned in a calm and pleasant voice.

  “I need Commander James up on Deck #10 please,” Lila demanded.

  “Please wait while I see if the commander can be reached,” was the reply. After a moment, the face of a rather harried middle-aged man in a soiled commander’s uniform filled the screen.

  “What is it Lila?” he snapped impatiently. “We have our hands full up here with mutants right now. Any word on the food supply yet?”

  “That’s the reason for my call sir,” Lila began, hesitating as the partial lie escaped her lips.

  “They made it to the Hort deck and there’s food? Have you got numbers? When can we…” the commander looked away from the screen quickly as though something was happening near his location. Lila heard the searing ping of laser fire, and the ominous groan of a protein disruptor.

  “No sir, we’re not that far along yet,” she interrupted. “Mike hasn’t checked in, and he’s refusing to answer my coms.”

  “You should really give him a chance you know Lila,” spat Commander James, obviously disgusted by the actual reason for the call. “I think I know why he’s not answering your calls — you’re not answering his. I’ll take care of it.” The view screen abruptly filled with static before reorienting to a command page. The commander had obviously disconnected the communication on his end.

  “Thank you, Med-tech Lila Burke,” the soothing, almost sickly sweet voice of the Artificial Intelligence intoned. “Will there be anything else?”

  Before Lila could reply, a great booming voice, obviously a ship-wide communique, came thundering through the speaker. “You may think you don’t have to, and you know who you are,” it began. “Answer the call!”

  Bahal cringed as the Chief glowered down at him. The leader of the Lamya was an imposing — no, make that terrifying — female. She towered to nearly nine feet, dwarfing his six-foot frame, and her mass was easily twice his own. In spite of her advancing years, the Chief carried herself with the lithe grace of a warrior, and always wore a 4-foot-long, wickedly curved blade at her hip. Worse still, if she so much as suggested to the tribe that Bahal was a needless nuisance, his days were ended.

  Bahal did his best to hide his face in the plate of cured meat they had placed before him.

  “Well, at least you’re eating,” the Chief scolded him with just a touch of kindness in her voice. “Has it occurred to you that Rani is a seasoned warrior? That she can take care of herself? That it’s been all of three sunsets since she left?”

  “But she had
a purpose that should not take three days!” complained Bahal passionately. “…and she was wounded the last time. What if she is lying out there, wounded and needing help again? Why can’t we send…”

  The Chieftain could not believe the insolence of this male. Why did males always whine and worry so? Her patience was at an end. “You know… it’s possible that she is staying away from camp just to get a bit of alone time, Bahal.”

  “Maybe just to get away from some of the ‘stresses’ around here.”

  “Maybe to explore a relationship with one of the males that came of age this year?”

  Before the male could reply, the Chief knew she had gone too far.

  Bahal stood up, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you Chief,” he choked out, “for seeing me. I am sorry to have wasted your time.” He then bowed and immediately left.

  The alacrity of his departure plainly annoyed the Chief’s guard. “Shall I retrieve him and teach him some manners, Chief?” the guard asked, twirling a five-foot long studded club.

  “No, let him go. I think I’ve hurt him enough for one day,” she replied somewhat wistfully. “But have one of your warriors keep an eye on him.”

  “Your will, Chief.”

  Bahal ran from the village to his humble hovel and threw himself into his bed of dried reeds. He could not stop the tears that seemed to come from some unlimited spring deep within his chest. Eventually, he fell asleep. As he began to snore, a previously unseen warrior left the shadows that had concealed her massive bulk to inform the chief that, ‘the poor little bugger cried himself out.’

  Bahal woke with a start. It was late and the village was quiet. Only a few voices speaking in low tones broke the otherwise peaceful stillness of a relaxed camp. His thoughts flew immediately to Rani. She was still out there. Something had to be done.

  Bahal grabbed a few provisions, his water bottle, and the short 40” blade carried by most of the males in the camp. An unauthorized mission into the wild would get him in trouble, but a walk around the camp’s perimeter should garner him no penalty; especially when most of the camp was enjoying their sleep cycle. Resolute, he crept from his hovel and headed for the edge of the village.

  Bahal had been searching for hours, stealthily creeping ever farther from the security of the Lamya village. There had been no signs, and he’d had to hide twice from roving sentries. The stillness was maddening, with only the chirping of a few insects to interrupt what most other Lamya would have termed a peaceful night. As the minutes turned into hours, Bahal’s trepidation only grew.

  He had not seen a sentry for hours, and he was at least three miles from the village now. Bahal knew he should turn back and creep back into his hovel before he was missed. The night’s search had proven only to be a colossal waste of time. Dejected, Bahal turned his steps towards home.

  The crack of a twig amid the thicket sent him into an immediate crouch. His training forced him into silence. What if it was Rani? Further movement within the impenetrable thicket reached his ears. What if she was injured and needed help? Still, his instinct held him immobile, silencing his need to know. A strange humming began, perhaps the attack of predacious insects that his darling Rani could not fend off in her unconscious state? He could wait no longer.

  “Rani?” he called softly into the thicket.

  A sharp popping sound greeted his inquiry, and several twigs snapped from their stems near his head. The creature had thrown something at him! His mind, tortured by days of unholy visions involving his beloved Rani being eaten by various lifeforms now flooded back to haunt the hapless male. He envisioned a hideous predator, weapon in hand, standing over the wounded body of his mate. Without hesitation, Bahal charged forward into the dense brush.

  Several sharp pops greeted his action, and a stinging pain on his right side let Bahal know that at least one of the projectiles had found its target. None of this hindered his progress. He could see the creature now; the hideous Ravager was as large as Bahal, covered in sickly dark fur, stood upright, and was brandishing a strangely formed 4’-long club. Sword in front of him, Bahal finished his charge as a blinding light washed over his senses, rendering him unconscious.

  Bahal awoke mere moments later, the body of the strange Ravager beneath him, the hot sticky blood of its wound bathing hands that still desperately clutched his short blade. He wrenched the blade free and inspected the wound at his side. It was a mere graze, and nothing that should bother him for more than a day. The beast on the ground was emitting an enticing odor, and Bahal discovered that he was suddenly famished. Still concerned over Rani’s fate, he decided it would be better to eat first, and then see if this horrid creature had indeed been involved with his beloved’s disappearance. Bahal quickly dressed the kill, and then ate with the appetite of a starving outcast. He finished his meal with a loud belch mere minutes later, and prepared to seek the Ravager’s lair.

  Inspecting the body first, Bahal opted to leave the strange looking club. It had not caused him great hurt, and its foreign configuration was at best confusing. Better to trust his sword than risk playing with the alien artifact. Beyond the strange club, there was little more than a carrying harness and some non-descript box-like items. Wasting no more time, Bahal searched for the dwelling of this strange beast. His search was soon rewarded.

  A small cave-like hole led into the side of a low hill. Its door was standing wide open, and strange crackling noises came from the darkness within its vacant maw. Bahal, certain he had found the prison holding his wounded love, rushed inside.

  Only more strange trinkets and boxes, and a strange rectangular light awaited him. The lair was not spacious, a circle some 10’-12’, and so there was little area to search. The crackling came from the strange rectangular light, its surface an ever-changing pattern of black and white dots. He had failed! Rani was still lost out there… somewhere. He knelt beneath the roof of the tiny cave and wept.

  “Oh great War Don help me!” he cried aloud. “Guide my steps! Tell me what I should do!” Recovering somewhat, Bahal squared his shoulders as he addressed his tribal deity. “Let me know if I should search or if I am simply acting the part of a silly male. Does Rani need me? Should I continue my search? Send me a sign!”

  The crackling ceased suddenly, and a great booming voice filled the small lair as a face appeared on the rectangular light. The face of the War Don!

  ““You may think you don’t have to, and you know who you are,” it commanded. “Answer the call!”

  Exasperated, Lila knew that she’d have to discover the fate of her scouting team on her own. Command had its proverbial hands full, and although they were normally supportive, they’d be less than helpful solving this particular problem. Lila walked over to the short wave transmitter.

  “All personnel on Deck #9, this is Lila,” she began authoritatively. “I’m calling a general meeting in the assembly area this evening at 2100. Everyone is expected to attend; we have an emergency situation at hand.”

  The moment she’d spoken it she regretted the term ‘emergency situation’. A scouting party was overdue. The world wasn’t coming to an end, the plague had not broken out among the security guards, a virus was not shutting down computer systems, and they weren’t running out of air… a common, everyday matter had occurred. Maybe Commander James was more accurate in his assessment than she had at first realized. It wasn’t as though she had serious feelings for Mike. He was a big, strong grounder and could take care of himself. Naming the situation as an emergency would only provide fuel for the rumor mill. Lila walked back to the main terminal.

  “Log on Warden,” she intoned, pressing her bracelet into the console’s waiting slot.

  “Welcome back, Med-tech Lila Burke,” replied the silky sweet voice of the deck’s Artificial Intelligence. “How might I assist you?”

  Lila had an idea that might just derail any potential rumors, and would benefit their efforts to regain some control of the ship as well. “Can you scan this deck for ano
malies?”

  Lila had been born on this deck, and, true to the culture of her group, at age 6 had randomly chosen a wrist band from within the large pile kept in the Deck #10 Command Center. The computer had then determined her profession and her name by reading the band. On that day, she had become Lila Burke, future Medical Technician. She had grown up strong, and had received classes in math, language, history and biology. She had studied hard, proven herself, and was now the chief Med-tech for this entire level. What she had not received was command or security training. This lack of knowledge resulted in the shock she was about to experience when the deck’s Artificial Intelligence replied to her request.

  “What types of anomalies should I scan for, Med-tech Lila Burke?” the AI politely asked.

  “You know…” replied Lila pausing to think for a moment, “…anomalies! Data points that lie outside the curve! Unusual power usage… radiation… temperature hot spots, gravitational differences.” Lila was really beginning to warm to this task. In a voice filled with triumph, she did her best to shame the electronic brain with which she was conversing. “A-N-O-M-A-L-I-E-S,” she spelled aloud.

  “Only engineers and command personnel have access to that data, Med-tech Lila Burke,” the machine calmly replied.

  Lila was shocked. “I’m just checking to ensure the safety of the inhabitants of this level!” she snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Only engineers and command personnel have the ability to correctly interpret that data, Med-tech Lila Burke, thus access is restricted,” replied the A.I., its voice the indifferent (but soothing) reply of a mentor explaining life’s mysteries to a recalcitrant child.

  “But the crew could be in danger!” Lila complained.

  “…and it is the job of command personnel to see to their safety, not yours,” the implacable machine replied. “Is there a medical anomaly I might scan for you?”

  “Oh, for fu…” Lila paused in midsentence. She was capable of out-thinking a mere machine.