Chapter 7
Dr. Leif Demney ruled the section of the Temple given over to studying the Ancients. By default, this included studying the Descendants of those Ancients. He was the latest in a long line of researchers who had struggled for thousands of years to unravel the mysteries of a race so alien that only in the last century had enough understanding been gained to noticeably contribute to Alluvia's technological development. The devices and powers left behind were based on precepts so contrary to logic that progress came minutely. Demney was determined to increase that pace.
"About time you brought her in," Demney grumbled as Satherlin labored to climb into a chair in the main laboratory. The inter-connected chambers hummed with electricity and mechanicals. Sylenn looked around, feeling her eyes go wide. She'd never seen so many machines at once, and never so many obviously designed by the Ancients. Despite their age, the devices gleamed in the artificial lighting, still doing whatever they had been designed to do.
"We brought her in due time, Doctor," the small man replied calmly, catching his breath.
"As you say, then. Let's see it. Girl! Over here, now!" Demney stabbed a finger at the plain metal table in front of him. Mosin growled softly, earning him a sharp look from both Satherlin and Lyshunda.
Sylenn mutely complied, hopping up on the edge of the table and facing Demney. The doctor began arranging obscure medical instruments on the wheeled cart beside him, occasionally glancing at Sylenn. He was a plain-looking man, probably from Tautona, with pale hair and a fair complexion; Sylenn could "hear" that he was speaking the Island's language and not his own. His light brown eyes were hard as he looked from his tray to Sylenn. Finally he stepped back, put his hands in the pockets of the white coat he wore over his shirt and trousers, and stared at Sylenn.
"Yvenn!" he barked, causing a young woman also wearing a white coat to jump. "Start the data recording engine! Subject is female, approximately nineteen years old, of mixed ancestry. Given name: Sylenn Jenfsen; Descendant name: Fulenthen Sonelion. Reference records of subject Mosin Jenfsen for genetic history. Subject is severely underweight and malnourished. Skin is dry and cracked, hair is shaggy and unkempt. Eyes blood-shot, likely a chronic condition due to poor living. Fingernails are broken and ragged; stained from lack of proper sanitation. Face is hollow and pallid; bones protrude obviously. (stand up now, girl)
"Subject is approximately five feet and six inches tall (when not slouching), slightly built. Clothing hangs off of her. Not healthy at all. Now, we are given to understand that the subject carries a symbiotic creature, acting as its host. Designation of symbiont: Hunter. Symbiont is said to have the ability to hold the symbiont designated Sukker long enough to consume its energy. Principle method of consumption is said to require the host to kill the Sukker host and break open the bones; Sukker energy is said to concentrate in the bone marrow.
"This coincides with past findings regarding location of Sukkers within hosts. Current extraction methods do not coincide with Hunter's said methods, so further data will be required for comparison. (walk over there, girl) Subject appears to have normal perambulatory ability. (Ernel, show her the stretches) Subject appears to have normal flexibility and range of motion. Subject also appears to have an acceptable range of cognition and is able to follow simple orders, in contrast to subjects designated Drones. We will now examine the Descendant form. (go on, girl!)
"Fulenthen Sonelion fits the standard Descendant form. Particulars are: Green and white skin coloration; Green hair bound high on head by means of a band and might reach the floor if unbound; Black eyes; Tail extending from base of spine approximately two yards and marked with raised bands colored deep green and tipped with whisk-like hair. Particular power yet unknown. (have you tested her? hmmf, thought not. walk her through the movements) Subject has normal range of Descendant ability. (go on; change back, girl)
"We will now examine the Hunter's abilities." Demney's gaze bored fiercely into Sylenn, who struggled to retain her composure.
"Go on, then girl; show us the Hunter. Bring It out, now!" Demney waved a hand imperiously. Sylenn's eyes narrowed as she ducked her head. She shuddered minutely. Then she leapt at Demney, pinning him to the floor.
"Want see, want see?" she hissed. Demney's eyes bugged as he struggled. Sylenn held him to the floor with an ease her slight frame shouldn't have managed.
"Hunt," It growled, throwing a glance at the others, who had belatedly come to help. "Hunt! Smell, smell, all here, all smell! Hunt! Master Tesselëan! Give! Give Gontozenels! Said! Not said this," It hissed at Demney, who was still trying to free himself, "not said this! HUNT!" With a screech, Sylenn launched herself off of Demney and pelted toward the back of the laboratory.
"She's going for the reservoirs!" Yvenn shrieked, waving her hands helplessly.
"Hold, Hunter!" Alleathon commanded, appearing in front of the frothing girl. She skidded to a halt, bowing to the floor. Shuddering, her head lifted, and Sylenn looked out of her own eyes.
"It-- It retreated. It never did that before," she marveled at Alleathon. In an instant, Satherlin stood there, his head level with Sylenn's.
"Can you control It now?" he asked calmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered again, then nodded.
"It really didn't like the Doctor at all," Sylenn mumbled, ducking her gaze. "And this place reeks of ... of Gontozenels. It's desperate to feed on them, and you promised to give It more to eat."
"What?" Demney demanded, stomping up. "Those Sukkers are valuable research subjects! You can't just toss them all away as tidbits to a dog! We don't understand them yet!"
"What's to understand?" Sylenn snapped, glaring at him. "They're using us to fight their war, and most of them don't even get the slightest scratch from doing so! They just phase out to a new host and run amok somewhere else! Besides, didn't you say you wanted to see what the beast can do?"
"What makes you say they don't get a single scratch?" Lyshunda stepped in front of Demney, cutting him off.
"I-- Well, that's what the beast is for; It can hurt them. Isn't it?" Sylenn looked up at them, confused. "You don't actually hurt them, after all. Um ... right?"
"Well, we've never been sure," Clatyn ventured. "Since we can't detect them unless they act out, and we don't have that many Records to fall back on."
"How do you know that we don't hurt them? Did the Hunter tell you that?" Satherlin asked quietly.
"I guess so. It's ... as though I just know it, but I don't know how I know it. Gah!" Sylenn put her head in her hands. "It's hungry! Can't you give It one of those little balls, just to make It quiet?"
"We can do better than that," Satherlin assured her, looking at Lyshunda. She nodded and turned toward the back of the laboratory over Demney's protests.
Lyshunda returned quickly, carrying a metal box with elaborate etchings. She set it on the floor next to Sylenn, who stared at it, eyes huge. After a second, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, the Hunter gazed out. Hands trembling, It reached for the box and turned it around.
Swiftly, It pressed several spots on the top and sides, causing Demney to gasp loudly. The box hummed slightly, and a portion of the etching on the top sank into the box. A soft, white glow rose from the box; the Descendants stiffened reflexively. Sylenn's hand darted out, holding position just over the glow, which recoiled. Sylenn's face screwed in concentration as she held her position for several minutes.
The others watched tensely.
"It's not dispersing," Mosin whispered.
"No, it isn't," Satherlin replied, intent on Sylenn.
Demney leaned in closer. "How is she doing it? It always disperses when released!"
Sylenn chuckled, a deep, grating sound. "No hunt if gone."
Abruptly, she clenched her hand into a fist, grabbing the glow. She dragged it to her mouth and stuffed it in. The glow continued to flow from the box, and Sylenn continued to drag handfuls of it to herself. The minutes ticked by silently as she devou
red the contents of the box with both fists. When the last of the glow disappeared past her teeth, she sighed and leaned her head to the floor.
"Ernel, get the spectrometer!" Demney snapped. The younger man scrambled off. Demney picked up the box, shook it, and examined it from different directions. "Verdammung, how did It do that?"
Ernel dashed back up with the instrument. Demney snatched it and fastened it to the box, adjusting its knobs and dials. He swore again. "It's empty!"
"I think it safe to say that we knew that," Clat commented.
Demney glared at him. "Always use proper scientific methods before stating conclusions!" Clat snorted.
"Sylenn, sweetie, are you alright?" Mosin lightly rubbed his sister's back. She groaned, then slowly sat up.
"Ugh." She slowly shook her head from side to side, weaving slightly. "I feel ... sloshy. It's never eaten that much before ... not since before It lost Its body, when the Tesselëans would feed It from those things. Nngh ... It's been starving for so long; going to take It a bit to digest all that. What, fifty Gontozenels?"
"How--"
"What--"
"You--"
"Shh!" Satherlin made a chopping motion, eyes glued to the young woman who held her head in her hands. "Yes, the box holds the energy from fifty Sukkers. Gontozenels. How many did It usually consume, when It had its body?"
No-one else spoke.
"Nnngh ... Oh, It could eat hundreds at a time, if It could get them. That's why they made the boxes, to hold the Gontzlbe--" She trailed off, quivering. "Feh. Still leaves a rotten taste in my mouth. What-- Why are you all staring at me?"
"We were paying attention; that's all," Lyshunda quickly said. "You were telling us some interesting things about the Hunter."
Sylenn rubbed her forehead. "I was? Ugh, it's so hard to think right now."
"That's alright, sweetie," Mosin soothed, rubbing her back. "You take your time."
"Take her time?" Demney echoed. "There is no time! We need to examine this at once! Get over here, girl, w--hurrk!"
Vyenthon held the Doctor by the front of his white coat, lifting him nearly a yard off the floor. "Have care, Demney, or--"
"Vyenthon! Set the Doctor down!" Alleathon ordered sharply. "This is not acceptable behavior!"
"His is not acceptable behavior!" Vyenthon snarled. Reluctantly, he lowered the Doctor to the floor; Demney looked as indignant as frightened.
"Then you will leave it to me and Laillmen to address that with him, Vyenthon. You will not take it upon yourself to start or participate in violence here in the Temple. Is that understood, Descendant?"
"Very well," came the grudging reply. "But Demney will take care how he treats my sister."
"Yes, we will all take care of Sylenn. And fighting is not being careful! Unsuit, now."
Vyenthon glared meaningfully at Demney, then turned back into Mosin.
Demney straightened his clothes. "If you're quite finished throwing your little tantrum, I'd like to have a look at your sister. If that's alright with you, that is." He matched Mosin's glare. Mosin nodded stiffly and kept his eyes pinned on Demney.
"Very well. Yvenn! Take notes. Subject appears weak and unsteady after the procedure of emptying the holding box ..."
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