He reached out a claw, hissing with pain. On his side, his brother cackled. Orcus reached out another claw. The rocks shifted above him. A skull on his back, one of his trophies, cracked.
With fury, Orcus roared and thrashed and shoved against the stones, casting back the darkness. His jaws snapped, ripping through rock. Like a hatchling crawling out from a ravager, he emerged from the rubble into searing moonlight.
He looked around him.
The explosion had leveled the concrete building and buried the train tracks. Trees crackled and dust still swirled. The humans and their vehicles were gone. His fellow marauders were gone. Addy was gone.
Orcus tossed back his head and howled at the moon. On his side, his beloved twin opened his small jaws and added his cry.
"She escaped us, little one," Orcus hissed. "The one who took our eye."
On his side, his twin mewled.
"Yes, it still hurts," Orcus said, blinking his three remaining eyes. He still remembered Addy grabbing the fourth eye, squeezing, popping it, the goo flowing between her fingers.
His twin whimpered as if feeling the pain himself.
"Yes, I know you can feel it too," Orcus said. "You think my thoughts. You feel my pain. And I promise you, my beloved. We will find Addy. We will hurt her so much. She will beg for death."
His twin clacked his jaws, struggling to speak. He could form few true words, but Orcus had always understood his beloved.
"No, my little one," Orcus said. "We will not follow the tracks tonight. Not alone."
His twin squealed.
"Lord Malphas wants our report before dawn," said Orcus. "We must speak to him."
His twin screamed, thrashed, trembled. He seemed to cry, "No, no! Hurt, hurt!"
Orcus shuddered. "Yes, beloved, he will hurt us."
He dreaded this. He dreaded this more than battle. Yet what choice did Orcus have? Meat did not satisfy his hunger. To be a mere drone, a soldier like the millions of others, did not satisfy his ambition. No. Orcus had vowed, even as a deformed hatchling, that he would rise. That he would join the alphas, the leaders of the great swarm of hunters. That, with the alphas, he would crawl into the warm, moist innards of the ravagers, the females of their species, would spill his seed upon their eggs. That his sons would fill the galaxy, great warriors. That, with his fellow lords, he would feast not upon meat but upon the brains of his enemies. There was no meal more satisfying than the brain of a sentient creature, lush with fear.
And so Orcus served his master.
And so Orcus bowed before Lord Malphas.
And so he had risen in the ranks, becoming a leader of warriors, inching ever closer to true lordship.
And so, even now, he would not run . . . no matter how much his lord hurt him.
Burnt and dented, Orcus traveled south along the tracks.
He walked through the charred forest, and when he gazed up, he could not see his home star. His world was too far to see. A world of deep, misty forests, of trees lush with webs, of cold, thick air. He had lived there among the bottom boughs, near the soil where things rotted, where the excrement of those above fell upon him, where he could not see the light of stars. But as Orcus limped here, one of his six legs twisted, he vowed: I will go home an alpha, and I will live in the treetops in the light of our blessed red moons of war.
He walked past the slaughterhouse and kept going, moving toward the ruins of the human city. Toronto, the humans called it. A festering hive of concrete and filth. The humans had no respect for nature, for growing things. They cut down their trees and raised monstrosities of stone. They flew in ships of metal, for their females were small and weak. Orcus loathed them. With every fiber in his body, he loathed the hairless apes.
"Look at their city, my beloved," he said to his twin. "Look at the evil they raise. These creatures defeated the centipedes, the great empire that once sprawled across a hundred stars. They sent their tentacles into every corner of the galaxy. But we crushed them, my beloved. Yes. We grind them down, and we feast upon their flesh, for we are the true masters. We are the apex predators of the galaxy. The evil of humanity will never rise again, and their fearful brains will satisfy our cravings."
His twin squirmed and snapped his jaws, his hunger running deep.
"Yes, my beloved," Orcus said. "You will feed upon the humans with me. You will taste their brains."
His twin nodded excitedly. "Brains, brains!"
They entered the city. Orcus walked between the skyscrapers that still stood. Thousands of marauders lived here now, scurrying between the buildings, weaving more and more webs, coating the city with their silk. Thousands of ravagers, precious females, hovered above. Orcus ached at the sight of them, ached to crawl into their moist cavities, to find their precious eggs, to fertilize them as he shuddered with pleasure. Yet he was not an alpha. Not yet. He was allowed to fly in a ravager, but never to breed with one.
"But soon," he said, raising a claw to caress his twin. "Soon, once we have proven our worth to Lord Malphas, we will have a great harem of ravagers. Soon we will feast upon brains."
His twin shuddered with anticipation. "Feast, feast!"
As Orcus walked through the city, he gazed around him at the webs that rose between the buildings. Countless humans hung from them, trussed up, squirming, screaming. Prey animals. Precious food. Their brains so soft, so juicy, the flavor of their terror so sweet. They hung everywhere. Orcus gazed at them, his hunger rumbling in his belly and the belly of his twin. On one web, marauders were lashing whips, forcing the male humans to impregnate the females, to create another generation of meals. On another web, human offspring hung, wailing, newly born. On yet another web, marauders were shoving feeding tubes into human mouths, shattering the teeth of those who resisted, fattening up the captives. Their brains would feed the alphas; their meat would fill the marauder warriors with vigor. Between two buildings hung a great web, many female humans upon it, screaming as the marauders milked them, harvesting the precious milk for the marauders' young.
But Orcus cared not for human milk nor flesh. He desired the meals of the alphas. He desired brains, the most precious of foods. He licked his jaws.
He rounded a corner, and he saw it ahead.
He hissed, fear flooding him.
There it rose. A tower woven of metal, stone, and webs.
The lord's hive. The domain of Malphas, King of the Night.
On his side, Orcus's twin whimpered.
"We must see him, my beloved," Orcus said. "He demands it. We must obey."
"Run, run!" the twin seemed to say, but Orcus knew that there could be no running from Lord Malphas. Only servitude. Only love.
He stepped toward the hive. Imperial guards stood here, towering marauders painted crimson and white, and upon their backs writhed living serpents that hissed, snapped their jaws, and spat at Orcus. His twin snarled.
"I have come to bow before Lord Malphas." Orcus sneered at the guards. "Step aside and allow me passage."
Saliva dripped down the guards' fangs. Their hot breath blew against Orcus, and he could smell it there. The smell of human flesh and blood. It had been so long since Orcus had fed. A human corpse lay at the guards' feet, half-consumed, the smell intoxicating.
"We will enjoy hearing your screams, Orcus," said a guard, his jaws twisting into a grin.
The second guard tore a piece off the human corpse. He fed the morsel to the snakes on his back. "Perhaps our pets will feed upon your flesh next."
Orcus snapped his jaws at them. "Silence, guards! When I am an alpha I will wear the skulls of your serpents on my back."
The guards laughed. "You will never rise, Orcus. You are weak and Lord Malphas is wroth. Speak to him." They stepped aside, sniffing. "You already stink with fear."
Gnashing his teeth, Orcus walked between the guards. The living serpents snapped at him, bit his skin, ripped into him as he walked between them. Bleeding, Orcus entered the darkness.
Back on their homeworld
, in the holy forest of mist and starlight, Lord Malphas lived upon the highest trees, gazing upon the cosmos. Here he had chosen not a skyscraper, one of the human monstrosities of metal, but a simple hive of webs and stone on the ground. A ring of fire burned here, illuminating a great web. Several humans were dying on this web, skulls carved open, brains exposed. The smell of their terror filled the hive. The web rose tall, fading into shadows above.
Orcus stepped forward. He knelt and lowered his head.
"My Lord Malphas!" He shuddered. "I have come to serve you, as you requested."
The web trembled.
A marauder descended from the shadows above, dangling on strands.
Orcus tried to control his shivering, and his twin twitched as if trying to tear free.
Lord Malphas was not the largest marauder in the horde. He was not one of the giants who came from the deep caves. But he was still twice Orcus's size. And there was terrible, burning power in his four black eyes. There was horrible wisdom. There was knowledge as deep as the cosmos. There was cruelty as dark and deep as a black hole. Looking upon him, there could be no doubt—here lurked the lord of all marauders.
For a long time, Malphas stared at his servant, silent. Finally, slowly, the lord's jaw opened. His tongue slithered out. His voice emerged, deep and ancient as the darkest forests, rumbling like a storm.
"Orcus."
I must run, Orcus thought. I must hide. Yet he could not move.
"Master," he hissed, kneeling lower, pressing his head against the floor.
Malphas crept off his web. Slowly, leg by leg, he walked closer. He loomed above Orcus.
"Orcus . . . where . . . is . . . the girl?"
Orcus swallowed the bile that filled his throat.
"My lord, I slew many of her warriors. Addy Linden has managed to escape, but I believe I know her location, and—"
Malphas grabbed him, digging in his claws, and Orcus screamed.
Pure evil flowed from those claws into Orcus. Starlight burned him. Spacetime cracked around him. The might of the cosmos itself twisted his innards. His beloved twin squealed. Above him, Malphas glared with those horrible four eyes, four black orbs, four universes of malice. A god of vengeance, of terror, of unending cruelty.
"You let her escape again?" Malphas let out a rumble, a roar. "You let Addy Linden flee your claws?"
Orcus trembled and wept. "I will find her for you, master! I swear it. I am close. I—" He screamed again as his master's grip tightened.
"I want her, Orcus." Malphas gripped him with a second claw, squeezing his head. "I want Addy Linden. She is one of them. One of the humans who slew the scum emperor. One of the great heroines of humanity, their legendary warrior. I want to feed upon her."
He released his claws, and Orcus fell to the floor, convulsing. Smoke rose from him. His twin wept.
"Yes, master!" Orcus said. "I promise you. I will bring her to you!"
"Promise, promise!" his beloved twin said.
Malphas growled. "Twice already you have failed me, Orcus. I sent you to grab the humans in their colony of Haven. Yet you let the others escape. Marco Emery. Einav Ben-Ari. Kemi Abasi. Lailani de la Rosa. They all fled from you. You caught only Addy Linden, and she too escaped you." The marauder lord circled him, his claws crushing skulls. "I want them, Orcus. All of them. I dream of them. I yearn to feed upon them, to carve open their skulls, to swallow the sweet feasts within. Do you know why I built my hive here, Orcus? Why I lurk here on the ground rather than on a mighty tower?"
"No, master." Orcus cowered on the floor.
"Because here was their home." Malphas sniffed the air. "Here, upon this very ground, did Marco Emery and Addy Linden live. Here they began their quest to defeat the scum, that cruel empire of centipedes. Humanity is weak, frail, pathetic . . . yet these ones are strong. And these ones I must consume."
"You will consume them, master, I vow it!" Orcus said. "Addy Linden lurks just outside this city, hiding in the wilderness. I will find her. The others will return for her. They will not abandon their world. I will bring them all before you, Lord Malphas!"
Malphas sneered at him, looming above him. His saliva dripped onto Orcus, sizzling in his wounds.
"I should tear you apart and let my guards feast upon you!"
Orcus trembled, his death near. As he cowered, he remembered himself as a hatchling, his bigger brothers striking him, cutting him, laughing as they consumed pieces of him.
I vowed to rise, he thought. I vowed to be an alpha, to never more be weak.
He forced himself to raise his three remaining eyes. To stare at his master.
"Addy Linden took one of my eyes, Lord Malphas," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I will pursue her and her friends with the vengeance of a storm, with the fury of a supernova, with the determination of all the forces of the cosmos. I will not fail you again."
Malphas stared at him in silence for a long time. Slowly, his jaws curled up in a grin.
"Very well, Orcus."
Relief flooded him. His master forgave him! His master loved him! He wept. On his side, his twin wept with relief too.
"Thank you, my lord!" Orcus said. "I thank you deeply, I—"
"But first," said Malphas, "you must be punished for your failures."
Orcus froze. He bowed low. "Of course, master. Punish me! Hurt me! I will gladly endure."
"No, my slave." Malphas shook his head. "You do not understand. I don't desire to hurt you. I desire for you to hurt yourself." He pointed at the parasitic twin that grew from Orcus. "That abomination that sprouts like a boil from your body. It is dear to you?"
Orcus nodded. "He is my twin. He is my beloved."
"Good." Malphas nodded. "Rip him off. With your jaws. Then eat him alive."
Orcus froze. He took a step back. "Master! Anything but—"
"Do this now!" Malphas roared. "Feed upon him as I watch! Do this or leave my presence, go into exile, and never more return."
Tears flowed down Orcus's hardened skin.
My beloved . . .
His twin whimpered.
Orcus shut his eyes.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry . . .
He closed his jaws around his twin. His beloved wailed. Shivering, Orcus snapped his jaws shut.
Orcus screamed with pain, but he did his duty. He fed.
Malphas grinned.
As Orcus stumbled outside, bleeding, nearly collapsing, he shed tears of joy. His master had forgiven him. Orcus would still climb the great web. He limped back into the wilderness. For the first time in many days, he was not hungry.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
They sat in the Marilyn's lounge, silent. This time there were no milkshakes, there was no music. They were lost in darkness. They had failed.
"All right, I want plans," Captain Ben-Ari said. She had switched back into her olive drab uniform, and her hair was in a ponytail again. "Any idea, no matter how stupid you think it sounds. What do we do?"
They all stared at the shattered azoth crystal on the counter. It lay in hundreds of pieces, some no larger than grains of sand.
Marco tried to control his fear. Terror would not help now. He was not afraid to die; he had cheated death enough times already, felt lucky to have lived this long. But the thought of never saving Addy, of never finding the Ghost Fleet, of leaving Earth to the marauders—it was almost intolerable. To have come so far, only to fail here . . .
"We fix it," Marco said. "We glue it together."
Ben-Ari shook her head. "Impossible. My father once took me to see a gemcutter who specialized in azoth crystals. The man spent months on each crystal, working for hours a day with microscopes and the finest of atomic tools, calibrating the crystal down to the last molecule. A single atom off, and it won't work. I remember the gemcutter telling me that if he ever shattered a single crystal, he would lose his career. We just don't have the tools, skills, or time."
Lailani looked around her. "Well, there's got to be a spare then. Hell, cars h
ave spare tires. Humans have spare kidneys. You'd want a spare of the only thing that lets you fly faster than light."
Again Ben-Ari shook her head. "You'd sooner find a safe full of diamonds. It would cost about as much as a single azoth crystal. No. This crystal was worth a hundred times more than the ship itself. Every ship gets only one."
Kemi rose to her feet and clenched her metal fist. "So why was it so vulnerable? I remember when we crashed the Miyari on Corpus. Its azoth crystal was kept inside a massive tank of steel. If a saboteur hadn't gotten inside . . ." She glanced at Lailani and bit her lip. "Sorry, Lailani."
Lailani grumbled something under her breath.
"Remember," Ben-Ari said, "this ship wasn't built by Chrysopoeia Corp like most military vessels. The Marilyn was built by Asmotic Institute, a boutique company that normally builds android replicas of celebrities from Hollywood's golden age. Their biggest clients are nostalgia buffs, rich men who want android companions who look like Jayne Mansfield or Raquel Welch. This ship is bespoke. My father must have thought it quaint." She sighed. "Clearly, it wasn't built to last in war. I think the missiles were more for show."
Marco bristled. "With all due respect, ma'am, I used those missiles to destroy four ravagers. Well . . . it was less my aim, more their heat-seeking technology. Thankfully, I don't think they were built by Asmotic Institute like the rest of this ship."
"And yet it was a hollow victory," Kemi said, gazing out the porthole. "The ship's regular engines are fast. They could take us from Earth to the moon within hours. But out here, so far from everything . . ." The pilot winced. "Anyone up for a ten thousand year flight back to Nandaka?"
Lailani sighed. "I knew it. I always knew that someday I'd die of milkshake overdose in a 1950s diner. People thought I was crazy. They said I was being far too specific, but I knew it would happen."
"We're not dead yet," Marco said. "We just need to find a solution. Maybe another azoth source nearby."
"There's nothing but empty space for light-years around!" Lailani said.
"So we send out a signal—"
"It would take years to reach anyone," Lailani said. "Years! Not unless you know how to open a wormhole by rigging the jukebox and milkshake maker. Captain, your dad's ship came stocked with lots of food, but it'll only last a few months. Maybe if we still had battle rations, we could last a year or two, but—"
Earth Shadows (Earthrise Book 5) Page 21