by Ethan Proud
“…Savages,” she repeated hollowly. The Commanding Family even made the Hydra Colonies sound like lesser peoples.
“And the Elders are in on it? That’s why that woman killed the Hydra Two Council?” Toledo fired off another question. His dark brown eyes revealed a high level of intelligence, despite his lack of hygiene and Treya felt guilty for judging him so quickly. She wondered how many friends the man had, or how many of his peers had treated him poorly. Yet, he had worked himself to a high enough rank to be leading a mission like this. Unless…the Commanding Family truly didn’t care about the Hydras.
“What is your rank, Toledo?” She added his name to make the question softer.
“Scout Team Lieutenant. Before this mission I just did recon as a scout, but I got promoted for this mission,” he said proudly.
And Treya groaned inwardly.
“Congratulations,” Treya said, as she thought of an accompanying sentence.
“I don’t think it was based on merit,” Toledo admitted. “I think it was because I am expendable. We were given four soldiers and an emissary to bring back six camps, which must be at least six hundred people.”
“We only have to bring back One through Three. Rumo’s team is bringing back Four, Five, Six, and Eight,” she said, though she didn’t know why that information seemed important and was sure Toledo had been told that during his briefing.
“I think we should intercept the other Hydra Camps on their way back to the Shrike,” he said as he put the rover in gear and pressed on the accelerator. “The Commanding Family sent us out here with very little regard for our well-being or return. Rhea had thirty-one soldiers in her squadron.”
Treya felt her breath catch in her throat from raw excitement. She was positive that she knew what Toledo was implying.
“A coup,” she breathed.
Toledo shot her a sideways glance and grinned as he shifted into a higher gear.
Chapter Fourteen
Rhea and Gana sat outside the fissure waiting for the rovers to return. Rhea eyeballed the bloodstained rag tied around Gana’s head, impressed that the man hadn’t complained about losing his ear even once. Neither of them said much, they were professionals, and had not been bonded in combat yet. The Wreckage Army policed the city and ran drills constantly. The only threat to the establishment was the possibility of a Hydra Revolt. Rhea scoffed at the idea. They were so busy drinking piss and desperately hunting for water that they had little time to dream of a shining jewel in the desert that benefitted from their endeavors. Even if they did, they had no guns and no hope of overthrowing the Commanding Family.
“Rhea,” Gana said a little too loudly, and Rhea realized she had been daydreaming. She sighed, her thoughts had been on the verge of turning to Aqi.
“Yes, Sergeant,” she said, twisting to face him.
“Warchieftain,” he began, and Rhea had to laugh to herself. He thought she called him sergeant to be addressed by her rank. In truth, she cared little about the formalities of rank. Anybody who insisted on being addressed by their rank was insecure. “I think I hear something in the tunnel.”
Rhea craned her neck and positioned her ear towards the slit in the earth. She didn’t hear anything. Wordless, she made eye contact with Gana, who understood what the look meant. It was pity. He clasped a hand over his left ear. The sounds he heard had been nothing more than his blood moving within his skull, amplified by the piece of cloth and the trauma of losing an ear.
“My apologies. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He looked down at his feet.
“It is better to be hypervigilant than lax,” Rhea said, then added, “You will get used to it.”
Gana didn’t answer but nodded, and began to fiddle with his gun. Rhea smirked at a typically male inability to express his feelings. Maybe someday he’d learn. Then she heard a scuffling against the rock. Gana looked up in time to see her shoulder her rifle.
“Don’t shoot it unless it attacks,” Rhea commanded. “I want to see what it looks like.”
The Greyling emerged from between the two rocks, and Rhea almost dropped her gun. Its eyes were bright red, with pupils so large they threatened to take over its entire eye. As the light struck it, the pupil shrank to a pinprick. The creature had sharp exaggerated teeth, and its posture revealed that it was built for climbing walls and crawling through tunnels. The only clothing it wore was a bag slung over its shoulder that was bursting with molla. Its fingertips were flattened, and a curved claw protruded from each digit. Tapered ears extended past the back of its skull and its nose was flattened. The entire creature was covered in coarse, blueish hair. It looked back and forth between Rhea and Gana, sizing them up, but did not have an aggressive stance. The Greyling emanated hatred, but it did not appear aggressive.
Rhea wasn’t trusting by nature, however, and placed a bullet square between its eyes. Then a screeing call echoed from the mouth of the tunnel, followed by two more concussive calls that had the same two-toned, metallic quality.
Both Rhea and Gana had killed enough gonis to know what they sounded like. However, the small animals did not make any noise loud enough to shake the bones of those who heard it. The two Shrikers kept their eyes trained on the fissure, knowing the owner of that voice could not fit through the gap in the rocks.
Chapter Fifteen
Using their feet to slow their descent, Yuto and Deirde slid down the dune on the seat of their pants, hands working like rudders to keep them straight. The sand slid with them, like an avalanche flowing down the mountainous dune, accumulating beneath their bodies and elevating them as if sitting on a throne. They were both laughing while their gonis happily warbled above them, though the humans were also experiencing a level of terror with their exuberance. They sledded down the incline for several hundred feet, kicking up particles that bounced against their goggles and scarves. Despite enjoying themselves, perhaps truly for the first time in their lives, they were terribly aware of the fact that if they lost control, they would log roll to their deaths.
At the base of the dune, and the mouth of the canyon, Yuto and Deirde extricated themselves from the pile of sand they had dislodged. They shook each of their limbs one at a time, to rid the sand that had seemingly crawled up their sleeves and into their pockets. Deirde pulled her goggles onto her forehead and turned to Yuto.
“Is the second aquifer covered?”
He looked around, and likewise pulled his goggles up and tugged his scarf below his chin. He surveyed the canyon walls and observed that the flood of sand had indeed covered the cave entrance to the spring he had found.
“It is,” he answered. It was glum, but he was smiling.
Deirde still had her scarf over her mouth, but her blue eyes did not conceal her excitement. “Where is the third?” she pressed, and Yuto slung his pack off and found his map.
He pulled a mapping compass out, not the directional compass he had received from his father, and began tracking the path. After carefully measuring the distance using crudely drawn landmarks he answered, “It’s, uh, twelve miles...” He quickly took inventory of his surroundings before pointing. “That way.”
Deirde and Aileen flew lazy circles around the two before landing, their bodies covered in a thin layer of grime.
“It looks like we will have to wait until these two shed,” Deirde said as their familiars closed their eyes contemplatively while their cellular waste hardened on their skin.
“Have you ever thought of scraping it off?” Yuto asked. It was a question that always burned in the back of his mind, but Aileen was always in such a great mood when she finally wriggled free that he didn’t want to disturb her ritual.
“Not once,” Exo Deirde said, and goni Deirde opened one eye at her master’s voice. She reached out a cautious hand and grabbed the slime and was surprised by the surface tension. The goni shook as firmly and violently as her soft body could and pulled free of the shell of stain. The dark blue goni took to the air and completed three flips before ro
osting on Deirde’s head.
Yuto laughed and followed suit. Aileen regarded him a moment, unsure of what he was doing. He lifted on the sticky substance, and Aileen went slack for a moment before popping free of her encasement. She sang a few notes before shaking herself from nose to tail in midair.
Yuto grabbed his canteen from his pack and gave it an experimental shake. It was nearly empty, barely a rattle of fluid within. He had another completely empty canteen, one full, and still had water in the specialized compartment. Years of trekking across AE625 in search of molla and water had taught both of them to conserve water at all costs.
He took a swill of the water and swished it around his mouth, not enough to slake his thirst, but just enough to trick himself into thinking he had. He passed his canteen to Deirde, who accepted it even though she had her own. Perhaps it was a peace gesture, he wasn’t sure. He knew he was watching too closely as she brushed a handful of stray hairs away from the corner of her mouth, and he averted his gaze. Awkwardly. He mentally cursed himself.
Deirde noted it but chose not to comment. When they found Rio alive she was sure that Yuto’s lingering gazes would cease. She stoppered the bottle and handed it back to Yuto and the two began walking purposefully in the direction of the third aquifer.
The sun beat down on their backs and they could feel the rays heating their skin despite the layers of clothing. Perspiration beaded on their necks and shoulders as they continued their brisk-near-jog pace. They could easily cover twelve miles in one day, but if they dawdled they would be exposed to the heat for longer and their water wouldn’t last them. They said nothing, the fabric tied around their face muffled their voices, and to remove them would mean inhaling sand and other particles.
Though Yuto and Deirde had put Rio’s death and the deceit leading up to it behind them, it still weighed on both of their minds. When Yuto wasn’t trying to squash his newly discovered primal feeling for Deirde, he considered throwing rocks at her. Not hard enough to kill her, just to sting a bit. She would have taken it stoically, too. But it was not Yuto who needed her apology and she knew it. She had omitted information, but she hadn’t betrayed him. She tossed her head, physically shaking her guilt from her mind as her hair bounced on her shoulders. She reached back and tied it up behind her head in a ponytail and didn’t bother to meet Yuto’s stare. She knew he was looking. More than that, she knew that he didn’t want to.
Chapter Sixteen
Rio stared at the many faces before him. Each of them held a knapsack full of harvested molla. Several of the Greylings were armed with spears, clearly they guarded their kin while the mushrooms were collected. Rio gripped his machete in his right hand and flicked the spear in his other, extending it to its full length. The guardian Greylings didn’t brandish their weapons in a likewise fashion, but the Exos weren’t taking any chances.
Taiga gripped the handgun she had taken from the dead Shriker, Lepiro held his spear aloft, and Jarrod looked ready to bolt—no one had thought to give him a weapon. Rio considered giving him the rifle in his pack, he hadn’t learned to use it, but he had killed the man’s pet. He cursed himself for his stupidity, but it was hard to think with a mind clouded by rage. Killing Mycka had made him feel much better though, and he was no longer gnawed by the urge to kill the Exile.
One of the harvester Greylings stepped forward and made a come hither motion. None of the Exos moved, but they shared uneasy glances. The Greyling repeated the gesture.
Lepiro lowered his spear and took a reluctant step forward.
Taiga sighed and holstered the gun in her waistband.
The Greyling nodded and cooed encouragingly.
Rio sheathed his machete and collapsed his spear. Jarrod hissed in discomfort, a low enough sound that the natives wouldn’t hear it, and his Hydra companions, no, captors, ignored him.
The Greyling turned and began leading them past the towering molla.
Rio looked up at the many gills, reaching radially away from the stalk. Between each of the gills he could see gobs of black spores, staining the porcelain flesh of the mushroom and littering the ground with piles of spores that would eject their own mass of hyphae and bolster the subterranean farm. He felt his insides constrict with excitement and a phantom buzz in his brain. Despite his psychological hunger for the drug, he could still rationalize his thoughts. In order for the gargantuan molla to grow in such abundance, there had to be a massive body of water in these caves. His heart began doing a light two-skip murmur of excitement. They were near The Source. Or enough water to rival The Source. He knew that his fellow hunters were having the same thoughts. In the same order as well.
The Greylings fell in around the Exos, forming a perimeter around them. Rio tried not to look around too much, but he counted at least eight of the creatures without looking over his shoulders. He did catch a glimpse of Jarrod and felt pleased that the dark bruise around the man’s eye had not healed in the slightest and a bloody rent on his brow stood as a testament to a missing piercing. The Shriker truly looked wretched. Like a haggard dog. His face reflected his defeat and his dark, sun damaged skin looked slack. Rio didn’t feel any pity for the man, but a lump did form in his stomach when the mental image of Jarrod and Deirde flitted through his mind.
Time underground meant very little. Whether it was day or night was impossible to determine and Taiga was unsure if they had been below the surface for minutes, hours, or days. It was all very surreal. She stood next to Lepiro and the two brushed arms briefly. They had hooked up once. A brief affair, but beyond that they had little interaction. Taiga’s heart was galloping in her chest now, she was fearful of where the Greylings were taking them. She knew that the other Exos felt the same way, her thoughts confirmed when Lepiro gripped her hand out of nowhere. It wasn’t unexpected, and it offered some comfort. Except that if she needed to run, she’d have an anchor.
She looked past Lepiro and could barely make out two dark forms immediately to his right. Running wouldn’t do her much good. Her thoughts turned to her dead goni, Hysco. A feeling akin to being doused by ice water enveloped her. If these Greylings had destroyed the men who killed him, then they would be her allies. Assuming that they could communicate. Then she remembered the ‘nine’ she had seen repeated on the walls. Perhaps it was a coincidence and it was only a sacred symbol to these strange beings. A coincidence seemed unlikely, though, the number ‘nine’ was a fairly basic shape.
Taiga looked up at the chitinous organisms that grew from every crevice in the caves, and felt an itch growing in the back of her mind. The cravings for the mollas felt no boundaries. She glanced over at Rio, the brownish blooms on the bandage around his thigh were spreading and it would probably need to be changed soon. Depending on their captors’ generosity, he could die from an infection. Before the destruction of their colony Taiga hadn’t felt particularly close to either Rio or Lepiro, but with the death of her parents and her missing husband a surprising bond had grown between the surviving Hydras. She even felt somewhat responsible for Jarrod, though if Rio killed the man it would be justice in her eyes.
The creature leading them deeper into the tunnels began crooning again as it picked up its pace, as if urging them to stop dawdling. If Taiga had known how to operate the handgun in her belt she would have considered using it to drop the alien beings. The Shrikers who had attacked had fired in rapid succession, but she didn’t know where the ammo for the weapon came from, let alone how to load it. Whatever ammunition in the weapon was all she had.
The Hydra refugees were led deeper into the tunnel, and Rio was partially in awe at the sheer depth. He had never found a cave or fissure that led deeper than one hundred feet below the surface. He was sure this one was beginning to measure in miles. The only light available came from the two gonis, which reflected off the pale caps of the monstrous mushrooms, amplifying the effects of the bioluminescence.
The first Greyling turned and pointed to an opening in the ground several feet ahead of it and gestured
to the Exos that they would be descending. Before waiting to see if its signaling had been accepted it clambered down the chimney while the other creatures waited for the Exos to follow suit. Taiga was the first to crawl down the chute, her only guidance her sense of touch, blindly groping for the next handhold. She didn’t know how many feet she climbed, it could have been less than two feet or more than ten for all she knew. Finally her feet touched solid ground beneath her, and the rock above her was illuminated as Lepiro began his descent, guided by his goni. Once Lepiro was clear, she could see the rest of the cavern they had entered as his familiar floated in the air right in front of them. The only textured parts of the subterranean realm they had just entered were the walls and the ceiling. Several stride-lengths ahead of them, the ground became an expanse as smooth as marble, but as inky black as the molla spores. Not a ripple disturbed its surface, and though the Exos had only ever seen a limited supply of it before, they knew the underground lake was water.
How far the lake extended, they couldn’t tell, but judging by the numerous hollowed molla caps along the shore, they would be crossing it. Though they had never seen a boat, they knew the purpose of the mushroom caps were to float across the water. The closest noun the Exos had to describe the canoes was ship-based on the Shrike. Ironic, considering these paltry vessels were nothing compared to an Earthling ship meant to sail the seas. The molla caps had been taken from the largest of the mushrooms, the gills and stems removed, and the cap transformed into an oblong shape, using cords made from the stems wrapped several times around the cap, folding it, and then more cords used to bind either end so that the stern and bow were held out on the water. The scaly skin of the mollas was extremely waterproof, and the boats surprisingly buoyant, only dipping under the water a few precious inches when the live cargo was loaded.
