by M. E. Thorne
“Most of El Finito’s infrastructure was destroyed,” I added. “Only the deepest, oldest ones survived the bombing that destroyed the upper portion of The Stacks.”
“This is one of the oldest tramlines,” Marcella said. “It is extensive, reaching distant parts of the planet.”
“How come we never found it?” Gnasher asked. “The Delvers’ Guild would consider this the find of a lifetime.”
“We have kept it hidden,” Marcella explained. “Many of my kin have turned the larger tram stations into colonies. The large, climate-controlled chambers are suitable for our homes. We hid the tunnels to avoid having people exploring them and accidentally stumbling into their homes.”
I paused. I’d never expected there was still a tramline, even partially intact, on El Finito. “How far does it go?”
“Even we don’t know,” she admitted, “there are vast portions that we do not concern ourselves with.” Her antenna began to twitch. “We are expected.”
“We’re close?” I asked.
“Approximately another five kilometers ahead,” she answered, as she looked further down the tunnel. “Let’s hurry.”
Chapter 16
As we walked, I noticed odd, fungal growths along the walls. Bunches of blue-green spore pods, long-stemmed mushrooms, and waving fronds. Clouds of dust motes danced around them.
“They are part of our defense and early detection systems,” Marcella explained when I asked what they were. “Not only can they alert them to anyone approaching, but they can also deploy countermeasures.”
“Countermeasures?” Gnasher asked warily, overhearing our discussion.
“Amnestics meant to confuse and disorient intruders, send them back with no memory of where they were or how they got there. They are how we keep these tunnels hidden." The slug-woman looked back at Sabra. “In light of new information concerning the Syndicate and their hazmat technology, new adaptations will be needed.”
My shoulders involuntarily twinged. “They won’t stop the Syndicate soldiers chasing us?”
“These mechanisms will not be as effective as designed,” she answered. She stopped and gave us a mirthless, disturbing smile. “I am happy I came with you. The knowledge I’ve gained will help all our colonies improve their defenses.”
Gnasher recoiled back. “You need to practice that, it's got to come naturally. Try doing it with more facial muscles.”
“It’s important that the smile reaches your eyes,” I added.
Marcella just looked confused. “It is difficult interacting with those that are not my kin. Ninety percent of my communication methods do not reach you.”
“Ninety percent?" I wracked my brain to try and figure out what we were missing.
She turned and began walking again. “Chemical emissions, spores, and body-temperature changes. Verbal communication and body language are crude and inefficient methods of conveying information.”
My feet were just beginning to ache when Marcella held up a hand and had us stop. Looking ahead, I could just make out two people waiting for us along the edge of the tracks. Marcella led us forward, and we cautiously followed.
They were dressed just like Marcella, in utilitarian jumpsuits. Both of them were fungal pale, with the same antennas and colorless hair as our guide. They also wore flat, emotionless expressions, identical to hers.
Marcella stopped about a dozen meters away. Nobody said a word.
Must be talking via spores or something, I guessed.
Satisfied, Marcella addressed our group. “This is Anthony,” she pointed to the Panacea to her right.
He was rail-thin, his huge eyes looking even larger in his thin face. His hair was cut short and parted to the right like he had copied the style from a corporate leadership headshot.
“And this is Cleo,” Marcella introduced the woman.
Unlike her partner, she was all curves, her jumpsuit barely containing her figure. Her hair was long, practically coming down to her knees.
I couldn’t help but admire her until she gave us that odd, lifeless smile all Panacea seemed to share.
“Welcome to Grand Cooper Station,” she said. She smiled harder but seemed dissatisfied with our response.
“I have learned our attempts at appearing open and friendly with other chimerics are ineffective,” Marcella told her.
We were all relieved when Cleo reverted to a flat expression.
“Thank you for helping us,” Spinny came forward, trying to disarm any unease.
“We are always happy to help one of our sisters,” Anthony responded to her. “We have learned of your difficulties, and are disturbed by the implications. These invaders are stealing the secrets of our creators and endangering us with their actions. We have agreed that steps must be taken.”
“Follow us,” Cleo directed. “There is a room for you to rest.”
The three Panacea led us to a tram station, another half-kilometer up the tunnel. A ramp had been set up, making it easier to climb up to the platform. From there, we walked up a series of broken escalators and into the station proper.
“Wow,” Gloria marveled, “this is amazing!”
The interior of the station had been transformed into a fungal forest. Great columns of multi-colored, fibrous stalks rose around us, either adhering to the original structure or growing in free-standing growths. Spore pods, like ripe fruit, hung everywhere. Water had been cleverly channeled through a series of scavenged pipes and artificial canals, creating waterfalls and tranquil pools.
Virtually nothing of the original architecture was visible, buried under layers of vibrant life. Even the floor tiles had been broken up by riotous growth, leaving a carpet of soft lichen.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, complementing our hosts. Their expressions did not change, but I hoped they were pleased.
White and blue spores gently fell from the ceiling, looking like snow. I had only seen something like that before in the movies. Holding my hand out, I let a couple of fluffy motes collect in my palm.
Anthony and Cleo walked amongst our group, placing their hands on our shoulders. As Anthony touched me, I felt an odd, burning sensation.
“Inoculation against our defenses,” he explained. “These spores are designed to leave intruders in a comatose state after brief contact.”
I quickly brushed my hand clean on my clothes.
The two Panacea wordlessly guided us through their home. Our party paused several times to stop and admire some fantastical formation, like a working water fountain that had been overlaid with delicate pink filigree, or a chandelier that was alive with waving blue and green fronds and glowing yellow orbs.
I couldn’t help but stare at Cleo as she walked, her hips swaying like a pendulum with each step. Gnasher found it hilarious, and Gloria enviously ran her hands down her own narrow hips.
“I can make adjustments to my measurements for the next time we copulate,” Marcella said as she walked up beside me.
I had been completely distracted by Cleo, and almost tripped over myself in surprise.
“You can do that?” I asked once I regained my stride.
“Certainly,” she answered. “Panacea choose the form that we feel best expresses ourselves. Since we can control our body chemistry, including hormone levels, we can adjust our secondary sexual characteristics." She inspected Cleo further. “I am unsure about having hips that wide. It seems to make locomotion less efficient.”
“Don’t worry, I like you just the way you are,” I blurted.
Gnasher just laughed harder. Marcella nodded, satisfied.
Eventually, they brought us to a small service door set against a concrete wall. Behind it was some sort of service room. Low counters ran along the walls, which connected to plexiglass windows that pointed out to the concourse. Fungal growth was at a minimum, and a table had been set up with bottles of water and bags of sealed food.
“Please, rest,” Marcella requested. “I am going to consult with my kin to see how
they can assist us in the next leg of our journey.”
“Thank you again,” Spinny said.
We all echoed the sentiment.
Marcella flashed us a smile, one that felt almost genuine, before she left with the others.
The food the Panacea had provided had been lifted from a vending machine, but by that point, we were so hungry that we didn’t care. We divided up the packages and passed out the water, which was held in old soda bottles.
It wasn’t much, but it tasted like heaven to me.
“This is not how I saw this trip going,” Gloria said, as she picked at a sticky bun.
“How were you expecting it to go?” Sabra asked, obviously curious.
“We walk into the lab, grab a bunch of loot, and return to the Metrocomplex as heroes. Rich heroes,” she added.
I laughed. “Welcome to the exciting, rewarding life of a delver.”
“I really wanted to impress the boss too,” she pouted.
“What’s the boss of the Bluehorn Group like?” I ventured.
“She’s amazing,” she answered giddily. “She’s so tough and smart, nobody ever gets one over her. And she can find anything. She knows everyone who’s anyone. A few questions, a couple of payoffs, and boom, it’s in her hands.”
“Sounds like a good person to know,” Gnasher glanced my way.
I nodded. Having a crime boss as a friend could be awfully convenient, I thought. Especially once the State learns about this fiasco.
“You’ll have to introduce us when we get back,” I suggested.
“I’m sure she’ll want to meet you,” Gloria said to me. “That Rosetta Stone Penis of yours could be worth a lot to the right people.”
I found the implication disturbing. In truth, I hadn’t even begun to think what we’d do once we were home, and the immediate danger was past. I could be carrying some kind of miracle in my body, or a prize that a lot of people would happily dissect me to get their hands on.
My gut suddenly cramped, and I pushed my half-eaten meal.
Spinny came over and placed a calming hand on my shoulder. She gave me a reassuring look. “Let’s worry about one problem at a time. Whatever comes after, we’ll face it together.”
I gratefully nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.
Marcella was gone for a long time. Tired from not only our recent escape but the near-constant stress and fear that followed, we crashed out.
Blankets and pillows had been provided and were quickly laid out. Spinny, Gnasher, and I ended up sleeping close together, our mutual girlfriend between us, in a hammock-like web, while Gloria skipped her usual habit of hanging from the ceiling and huddled up against the wall. I was surprised when I saw Sabra rest next to her, eventually leaning into her outstretched wing, which she wrapped around the two of them like a blanket.
I don’t know how long we were out for. One minute I was snuggling up next to Gnasher, just enjoying the thought of being safe and comfortable for the moment, and the next Marcella was asking all of us to wake up.
She gave us a few moments to get ourselves together before announcing, “The colony would like to meet you." She looked at me specifically, “They might be able to tell you more about your condition if you are willing to undergo an examination.”
I felt a mixture of hope and fear at the prospect, but I nodded, “If they’re willing to help, I can’t afford to say no.”
Better to be poked, prodded, and have my blood sucked dry rather than devolving into some kind of mindless sex monster, I told myself.
There was no sign of Anthony or Cleo as she led us to the center of the station. Inside of the main atrium, we found a gigantic thicket of Panacea stalks, thousands of them.
They stretched from the floor to the ceiling high above. Most had completely forgotten their human shape, merging and winding around one another. It was difficult to tell where one ended and the others began. In the dim light, it was impossible to count how many of them there were.
“This is the largest colony on El Finito,” Marcella provided. “Due to its location as the center of the tram system, it acts as a communication hub for my kin. From here, we can reach almost every colony on the planet.”
“Though there are not many of us with the capacity for genetic analysis, some of our distant kin were modified and trained by Nakamura-Ghosi for that purpose,” she continued.
She looked at me. “If you are comfortable providing sperm and blood samples,” she then turned to Gnasher, “and if you are permissible with this collection, we can ask these specialists to analyze them.”
“What would I need to do?” My legs were trembling, not only in fear of the test but what it would discover. All kinds of horrifying scenarios began to play in my head, like my nightmares coming to life.
I began pacing, without even thinking about it, walking back and forth a short distance while wringing my hands.
“Shed your clothes and step into the colony,” Marcella answered, evidently not picking up on my anxiety. “My kin will handle the rest.”
“I’m fine with it,” Gnasher said, suddenly stopping me and grabbing my hand. “As long as I get to go with him.”
A wave of relief ran through me as I came to a halt.
She leaned over and kissed me. “We’re in this together. Remember that, no matter what happens, you are not alone.”
“Even if I mutate into a flesh-lump?” I said half-heartedly.
She kissed me again, “We’ll keep you as a pet.”
Marcella closed her eyes, listening to something we could not hear. “That is acceptable. Please be aware that the colony wishes to collect a sample while you are the height of arousal, to verify your adaptive properties.”
“This is going to be awesome,” Gnasher assured me, squeezing my hand.
I looked back over my shoulder at the rest of the group. Gnasher had stepped back to be with Spinny for a moment, their heads together in a loving embrace before they passionately kissed. Sabra looked utterly overwhelmed, the blood rushing to her face. Gloria looked half-ready to shuck off her clothes.
Feeling almost as embarrassed as I assumed Sabra was, I cleared my throat. “Not to be a prude, but could we get some privacy?”
“Why, it's nothing we haven’t seen, or heard, or done before,” Gloria said.
Spinny gave a low chuckle. “Locke is the type to get flustered easily, and we don’t want to interfere with the test." She stepped over to Marcella. “This station once included a shopping mall, correct?" She plucked at her torn-up jumpsuit top. “If there’s anything left, I think we could all use a new wardrobe. It could be fun to try on clothes that I didn’t make myself.”
Marcella herded them together, including the protesting Gloria. “We will visit the stores, and then tour the lower platforms. My kin have grown --”
Their voices faded as they walked away. Gnasher unzipped her jumpsuit and tossed it aside. “Ready?”