by Ethan Proud
The Greylings paired off as they approached each of the totems, where one of each pair scaled the pole, wrapping their legs tight as to not slide down, gracefully grabbed the sharpened bones and ran each through the skin of one of their pecs before leaning back so that their bare feet were braced against the pole. Their bodies stuck out horizontally, the only force keeping them from dropping to the ground the pressure of their legs against the totem and the rope secured to them, only by skin.
The crowd cheered raucously, and the instruments blared as the second of each pair agilely leapt onto his partner, grabbed the opposite rope, and pierced the bone through his own chest. The crowd yelled again, even louder, as the second Greyling leaned back and fell into the air, his weight moving him pendulously. The first Greyling crouched and leapt into the air; at his zenith the rope extended perpendicularly at full length. At the Greyling’s nadir, their feet landed solidly against the totem, before they launched themselves outwards again. The two creatures were always opposite of each other, and how they managed not to get tangled amazed the Exos.
The flesh of the Greyling’s chests oozed blood from the wounds as they stretched open by the sheer weight of being at the end of the rope. Each of the eighteen Greyling’s faces was the image of pure ecstasy. The molla smeared on their faces and chests mingled with their blood and dripped onto the ground beneath them, intermixed with the ceremonial paint. Beneath the aerial dancers lay a spatter of orange that inevitably contained molla and blood. Greyling teenagers, and younger, ran up beneath the totems, their heads barely avoiding being smacked by an ankle or wrist by mere centimeters. They crouched down, like greedy demons, dipped their fingers into the puddles of gore and licked their them without regard to their parents and peers in the crowd. Not that any of the other Greylings cared. They were busy dancing, playing music, or imbibing molla. In any event, more were likely to join the adolescents in their dark behavior.
Taiga, Lepiro, and Jarrod stood in shock as the events before them unfolded. It was both barbaric and beautiful, but for the Hydras it seemed less foreign than to Jarrod who had grown up in the cushy atmosphere of The Wreckage. However, he drew many parallels between it and the Days of Desperation. He looked around, surprised by the lack of orgies, though perhaps that would come later. Or maybe these people were less carnal than his own. Jarrod found himself back at his hypothesis for their origins. That was what they were, people. Not aliens. While he pondered his theories, he wondered whether or not Exos and Greylings could interbreed. All evidence he had seen thus far was in support of it. He brushed the thoughts away before they manifested into something more explicit and less scientific in nature.
Taiga glanced around nervously once she had been able to break the spell woven through the very air. Still no Rio. Had he already been sacrificed? Or killed? Was she next? How much did a monstrous goni need to eat? Lepiro seemed to be enjoying the revelry immensely and had just been given a cap full of spores from their Greyling Guide. It appeared that the two were trying to communicate with extremely vague hand gestures accompanied by sentence fragments from Lepiro and gibberish from the Greyling. Taiga glanced over at Jarrod, completely absorbed in his own thoughts.
She was shaken from her observations of her comrades when she noticed the blood drinking youths climbing into the wicker gonis. They filled every inch until they were crammed in at impossible angles. Heads and feet stuck out from beyond the scaffolding and it was impossible to tell where one child ended and the next started. They merged into a single amorphous goni, or rather, three amorphous gonis. Taiga strained her eyes to try to discern what was going on, when she heard the hungry roar of fire. Three women Greylings parted the crowd, each holding a blazing torch aloft. As they passed, the crowd became prostrate on the ground, eyes upturned to behold the spectacle. This continued until only the three Exos stood, but their guide gestured frantically for them to follow suit, so they did.
The aerial dancers continued to spin, while even more Greyling children clambered into the wicker gonis, trying to squeeze themselves into the frames. The low crackle of flames transformed when the women touched the braziers to the objects of their idolatry. The flames leapt to the top of the cavern in an instant as both molla and Greylings caught fire immediately. The sound of combustion drowned out any other sound in the cavern. Even the cries of the dying couldn’t be heard, but the smell of burning flesh and hair was unmistakable. The pyres grew as the hungry flame consumed more, but in mere minutes, the tongues stopped lapping at the rock ceiling and began to dwindle and inch by inch, receded. However, the fire was still large enough to illuminate the entire city and the surface of the lake. Gonis could be seen clutching stalactites and surveying the Greylings beneath them, but none were bold enough to leave their rookery.
At the center of the lake, a turbulent mass of water could be seen making anxious laps. The tip of the tail alone broke the surface of the water and slapped loudly in agitation. Then the gigantic head breached and let out an earth shattering squeal. Rocks rained for but a moment after being shaken from their formation.
The lake goni abruptly ceased its laps and began swimming towards the shore in a serpentine, winding pattern. It had been called. And it was hungry.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lago and Utria were in the Halls of the Commanding Family when the lights went out. Had the lights stayed on, they would have seen paintings and statues of the previous families lining the corridor. As it was, they were in complete darkness. Simultaneously, they produced flashlights, and two identical beams shone into the hall, the click of the buttons sounding at exactly the same moment. Despite the turmoil raging outside the tin can of a ship, the corridor seemed unnaturally quiet. Of course, the two Shrikers could hear the muffled sounds of conflict, but the darkness brought a heaviness to the air. A moment later, the sounds of their boots clacking down the hallway broke the surrealist moment. Lago reflected on the loss of power; since he had been alive he had experienced only a few blips in the power grid and nothing that lasted longer than a millisecond.
They reached the door to the Commanding Family’s chambers and Utria pounded on it with a fist. Three strikes, each one with authority. The door opened a moment later. Aqi stood in the frame, her molten brown eyes surveying the two of them.
“Come in.” She stepped from the frame, and the soldiers entered. Martian Flares in glass terrariums lighted the room, as well as a flashlight placed in a glass bowl. “We have surmised the reason for your visit,” Aqi continued.
“The Hydras,” Fleet interrupted, which earned him a glare from Aqi.
“It is our understanding that two members of Hydra Seven were found in the desert and you brought them in,” Mertensia stated, or perhaps she asked.
“T-that is correct.”
Four heads cocked when they heard the stutter. Luckily for Lago, his flushed cheeks were hidden by the darkness and his own skin tone.
“Where are they now?” Fleet asked, and gracefully ignored the impediment.
“In the cell block with the other prisoners,” Lago answered, carefully enunciating each word this time.
“I believe there is a breaker in that hallway,” Kilo supplied. “That is where the energy breach must have occurred.”
Fleet nodded. “Then the prisoners are no longer our prisoners.”
“Kill them,” Aqi lilted. “Before they escape the compound and meet up with the other insurgents.”
Utria and Lago both dipped their heads in a shallow bow and turned to depart.
“Wait.” It was Fleet.
The soldiers turned in response.
“Collect an engineer on your way to repair the breaker.”
Fleet’s order was met by an incredulous hiss from Aqi. “We will send an engineer. Focus on killing the Hydra Seven survivors.”
Mertensia and Kilo nodded in agreement and Fleet seethed internally.
Lago and Utria turned and this time left without further interruption. The sounds of their boots against
the metal floor was the only sound as they navigated towards the jail cells. They had barely made it past two junctions before they spotted two lower class citizens walking with purpose towards the Halls of the Commanding Family. One was a woman with purple hair, and the other a dark skinned man, his face littered with asymmetrical patches of white. Both were striking individuals and didn’t carry themselves like the plebeians.
“Those seeking refuge should head for the lower levels,” Utria said in a steely tone.
Lago could tell by her voice that she did not trust the two individuals in front of them. Her suspicion was proved prudent a moment later when the woman lifted a gun and leveled it at the Shrikers. She didn’t offer any warning before squeezing the trigger. Luckily, Lago and Utria had caught the movement and dove into the adjoining hallway. Both of them clicked their flashlights to douse the damning light. Lago pulled the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and ducked back into the hallway to return fire, but it was empty.
“Were those the prisoners?” Utria asked huskily.
“I’ve never seen them before,” Lago answered as he stalked into the hallway. He primed his ear for the sound of footsteps but heard nothing of the sort. The Wyrms, Asia and Jackson, were still in the hallway.
“They’re after the C-” Utria’s sentence was cut short by a clap of gunfire. The shooter had aimed for her voice, and the bullet ricocheted off the wall the Shriker stood tucked behind.
The bullet bounced off the wall and grazed Lago’s tricep and part of his back, but he made no sound. He had seen the flash of light from the conflagration of ignited gunpowder. Quick as lightning, he fired his own shot and heard a muffled cry in response as his bullet struck Asia. He dropped to the ground before his enemies could employ his own tactics.
Utria stepped from behind the corner and leveled her gun in the direction Lago had fired. Taking a risk, and putting faith in her comrade, she illuminated the hall with the flashlight. She heard a report of two gunshots, and fortunately didn’t feel the teeth associated with the sound. Instead, she saw two slumped figures, the man with a rose of blood spreading across his chest, the woman with a rivulet of it running down her nose. Utria scanned the hallway without detecting Lago, before he stood and intercepted the beam and flicked on his own light.
“Good work,” she complimented him. He nodded in answer, but she could tell by his smug look that his ego was swelling. “Now to find the rats you brought in.” His expression darkened and Utria allowed herself to smile this time.
Together they set off down the hallway like lions after a zebra. Lago was already at a deficit in the dark hall, his right eye clawed out by Deirde. He cursed himself for not having his way with her there and slitting her throat after. His weakness had always been beautiful women. He was aware of the sound of blood dripping from his arm and back and the soft patter as it hit the ground, accenting every so many strides. They descended two flights of grated stairs and crossed three sectors of the ship to reach the ground level.
The flashlight beams fell on the figures of a multitude of refugees, huddled in blankets in the dark tunnels. Voices of soldiers could be heard outside as gunfire continued to rain down. Occasionally the ping of metal on metal sounded as a bullet hit the exterior of the Shrike. Utria and Lago entered the cell block five minutes later and found the open door Deirde and Yuto had escaped from. Lago turned to one of the locked rooms still occupied and produced the key set from his belt. The first key was wrong, but the second unlocked the door. Each soldier in the Shrike Colonial Military had three keys, one to the barracks, prison block, and the armory.
Before he opened the door he gripped the light between his incisors and drew his gun. He pushed the door open and fired off three shots, killing the occupants. This earned him a disgusted look from Utria.
“What?” he demanded.
“What the fuck was that for?” the woman growled.
“We already have two escaped convicts. We don’t need to add to the number. These already had a death sentence,” Lago explained and turned down the hallway to resume the hunt.
The escapees would not be headed out past the refugees and would need another exit. His first assumption was past the hydroponic gardens and med bay. Either could have disastrous effects. If the power outage plagued the hydroponics as well, then the survival of the Shrike was already at stake. At least the molla could survive in the absence of photons.
When they arrived at the hydroponics, they found that it had not lost power. They also discovered that Lago’s assumptions had been correct. With her molla darkened eyes, Deirde stuck out like a sore thumb. Yuto, Deirde, and Treya were nearly past the rows of stinking manure and the potatoes it grew when they heard the party crashers.
“I thought there were only two?” Utria asked as she leveled her gun at Yuto.
“Doesn’t matter, the old bitch is complicit,” Lago muttered as he too raised his rifle.
Before either of them could get a shot off, a body crashed into Utria, knocking her from her feet and knocking Lago off balance. His rifle skittered across the floor. Lago turned to confront the assailant, pulling a knife from his boot, when he recognized the man as one of the other Scout Lieutenants.
“Toledo?” he exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. Then he grinned a shark-like grin. “I’m gonna murder you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The flames of the wicker gonis were nothing more than faint tongues of blue, clinging to the ashen mantle that once contained the bodies of many Greylings. The worshippers were nothing but mounds of dust and a few recognizable pieces that survived the fire’s hunger.
The aerial dancers now barely moved, their arms outstretched and covered in a sheen of sweat while their eyes lolled listlessly in their sockets, looking everywhere and nowhere at once. Their legs pushed off the totem lazily and the blood no longer ran from the piercings on their chests. Instead, it was congealing and slowly dripping to the cavern bottom like thick teardrops. The music had ceased and the kowtowing Greylings turned their faces towards the floor and took up a rhythmic humming that reverberated against the rock.
The Exos dared not look up more than they already were, but they sensed that something terrible was about to happen. The air was tangible and carried an acrid taste. The beat of the drums slowly returned, though it was barely audible over the pounding of pulses in the throats of the trio of Hydras.
X
Rio came to suddenly when he heard the rock being lifted from his cage. He leapt to his feet, thinking to make a quick getaway, but the first light he had seen in days blinded him. To his light deprived eyes it seemed like the entire city was ablaze, though in truth it was only the hemoglobin of the impish moths. His view was obstructed by three of the largest Greylings he had ever seen. The first one struck him in the head with a club, rendering him gasping and barely conscious on his knees. The other two lifted him by the arms and hauled him to a hut on the edge of the city. Inside, were two more Greylings. The inside of their mouths and both eyelids glowed orange. Next to them sat two basins full of black spores. Herma floated in the air behind Rio, its distress apparent and very painful to its master. Despite his own dire circumstances, he hated to see the goni in this state.
The Greylings stripped him of his clothes, and he felt ensorcelled by the cold air in the room. Every hair on his body stood on end as gooseflesh rippled across his chest and arms. The Greylings that had brought him in began lashing his arms to his side with thick cords before he could protest. He turned to run, but fell to the ground as another length of rope was wrapped tightly around his thighs. He began to panic as Greyling hands started to rub molla spores over every inch of his body, feeling vulnerable as they applied gobs of the stuff indiscriminately. Rio thrashed against his bonds, but within minutes the drug had been absorbed into his bloodstream and he felt oddly at peace. At least physically. His brain still struggled to understand his predicament. He was rolled over onto his stomach as his captors continued to slather him. He attempted t
o inchworm his way towards the door as Herma began to dive bomb the Greylings. They paid the creature no heed. One of the Greylings chuckled as Rio nosed his way closer to freedom. He felt hands grasp him, and like a felled tree they hoisted him onto their shoulders. Positioned face up he could see nothing of his surroundings, but became aware of a vibrating sound as they brought him closer to the center of the ceremony.
His thoughts inevitably drifted to Deirde. He wondered where she was, if she was alive, and whether or not she would miss him. At this moment he knew he would never see her again and she would never hear him say he forgave her. Tears brimmed and threatened to spill over, but he refused to die crying and blinked them away fervidly. Suddenly he was roughly placed on his knees. His heart hammered against his ribcage when he realized that he was at the edge of the lake. He could see the surface tension threatening to break as a monstrous beast swam towards the shore. Herma landed on his shoulder and he tried to shake the goni off him, to encourage it to fly away. He attempted to vocalize his demand, but his voice caught in his throat. Herma needn’t die with him. The small creature met his gaze before staring stoically forward, accepting its fate.
Now tears fell down his cheeks, but Rio didn’t care. He followed Herma’s example and watched as his doom reared from the water in a spray of droplets. He stared into the massive goni’s eyes and felt nothing but coldness. Its maw gaped open widely as it brought its face down to consume man and beast together.
Chapter Twenty-Six
