It was not long before we came across a large group of Dead, simply staring out ahead at something further down the road, as yet unseen. Survivor stopped the car, the Lad wanted to get out and bury his sword in a few Dead heads, but I held him back, shaking my head. I gestured in The Kid’s direction as he made his way past the vehicle.
My old friend stretched his arm out, reached out with his mind. I could feel the compulsion as a slight tickling niggle in my brain, but to the Dead before us the reaction was much stronger. The entire horde, several hundred of them, turned and began shuffling off to the east. I felt a few finally recognise that the car held food, saw those Dead turn slightly in our direction, but the compulsion was impossible to ignore, and they kept moving with their fellows, only snarling and gnashing their jaws in our direction as The Kid kept them moving.
I’m going to make sure they keep going the right way. Let me know when you guys are ready to leave, and I’ll join up with you then. The words almost exploded into my head as The Kid communicated with me.
When the Dead had gone a reasonable distance, I opened up the door and left the car. Survivor and The Lad followed suit a moment later.
Now that the Dead had moved on, we could see the compound before us; a large circular shaped building made of shining metal surrounded by what looked to be laser fences in a grid shape, different pens for various animals that they’d been working on. I saw eucalyptus trees that contained koalas, a big red kangaroo alone in his pen with a couple of smaller grey ones nearby in a separate enclosure. Wombats, echidnae, there was a small enclosure with a large pond that seemed perfect for platypi and a large one with a small pack of dingoes residing inside.
All these creatures seemed to just go about their business, ignoring each other and us as we picked our way through their pens. The Lad was stunned at the sight of a huge razorback boar drinking from a pond, eyes widened even more when we came across a large salt-water crocodile sitting on a rock. As we made our way through, we discovered a large pen containing wild brumbies, their proximity to the crocodile not seeming to bother them in the least. One trotted over to us and gazed at The Lad with soulful brown eyes. He reached out to touch the horse but was unable to penetrate the forcefield surrounding its pen.
As we passed the final sets of enclosures, most of these filled with various snakes and spiders, goannas and other reptiles, one containing a pair of camels, we came to the large central building. There seemed no way of entering, so I simply knocked on the side of the structure with the hilt of my sword. This elicited no response, so I did it again, shouting loudly. Criss-Cross offered to run around the building and search for an entrance. I nodded, and off he sped to the right. A moment later, he appeared on the left, shaking his alien head in an all-too human manner.
noon
We went back to the car, radioed back to The Ranger’s headquarters to let them know what we’d found, made sure to document everything that we’d seen. German Doctor’s voice crackled over the radio that she’d wished she’d come out with us and would have if not for having to check up on the health of the Rangers. I told her that all we’d found was a bunch of non-mutated animals and that she really wasn’t missing out on much right now. The moment the words left my mouth, however, light beamed out from the structure ahead of us.
A trio of shapes strode out from the light within the building, made their way through the animal enclosures, past the point where the Dead had been gathered and walked towards the four of us with purpose.
I signed off, turning off the radio, and we all piled out of the car to greet the Mutators.
The three aliens were almost identical in size and shape, six feet in height, pale skin and blonde hair atop their heads. They looked human, though each had three fingers and two thumbs on opposite ends of their hands. Their eyes were overly large and jet black with no whites showing at all.
The trio stopped a few metres away from the car, and I moved out to greet them.
The centre one, who looked a little more feminine than the other two, stepped forward.
“I greet you, humans.” Her voice sounded synthetic, processed. “And a Klee-vics.” She raised a hand, extended it to shake with me. It felt cold, the skin an odd texture, smooth as glass. The second thumb gripping my hand felt odd as well. “You are welcome here. Forgive our earlier reticence in allowing you inside, but we are unused to guests. If it pleases you to come inside?” She waved towards the compound.
evening
The interior of their structure was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Shining metallic surfaces everywhere, absolutely no clutter. Surgical tables littered the main floor, with Mutators working on every conceivable type of animal, cutting them open, removing the blood somehow so that it just hovered above the animal in a large ball, tinkering with their internals. Then, the blood seeped back into the beast once the surgeon was finished. Survivor watched, dumbfounded, as one mutated a koala into a Drop-bear using this process, completing the murderous beast in a matter of moments.
Our guides were happy enough to allow us to witness these surgeries, it seemed, slowing their pace so that we could see the details of another koala mutation, and that of an echidna. No explanation was given of any of the process, and I’ll probably never know how they changed the size of these creatures during the procedure, but it was fascinating watching the Mutator surgeons at work.
We were directed into a small room with a few odd-looking chairs around a conference table. Our guide gestured in the direction of the chairs, and we sat. They seemed comfortable enough, in an odd, alien fashion. Though metallic, they conformed to the shape of whoever sat in them and felt as though they were fairly heavily padded, though to look at they were not. Criss-Cross simply stood at the corner of the table near me, as the Klee-vics’ frame would not be able to fit in a humanoid chair.
“You have gone to great lengths to discover us.” One of the males stated. His voice, too, sounded synthetic, though a deeper tone than the female. “The least we can do is offer some hospitality.” The other male went to a panel on the wall, slid it open, uttered a few words in his own language and a moment later, brought forth a tray with seven cups of steaming hot coffee and lay it down on the table.
Criss-Cross took one sip and made a face that I could only describe as the Klee-vics version of utter disgust, though Survivor inhaled deeply of hers and drank immediately. The Lad asked for milk and sugar for his and was immediately satisfied when the Mutator went to the wall panel and created some for him. I drank mine immediately, having not had any coffee in months. The Mutators themselves drank it, seeming to enjoy the flavour.
“You enjoy coffee?” Survivor seemed thrown aback.
“The taste is agreeable, if strong.” The female sipped hers. “We prefer to indulge in the cuisines and traditions of the cultures that we study. Our only wish is to study your culture more before it dies out completely. We had not expected survivors at this stage of the Event.”
“This Event has happened before, to a number of other human worlds. There usually is nobody left alive after the first dozen rotations. The fact that your world has travelled over three fourths of a revolution since the Event began and there are still survivors is amazing.” The second male went to the wall panel again, uttered a few more words in his own tongue and produced a tray of donuts.
“We’re not going to die out completely.” Survivor sounded adamant. “Maybe these other human worlds still have someone left?”
“That would be unlikely. It would amaze us if true, and your species is renowned through the universe for its resilience, but this particular Event always signifies the end for your kind.” The female’s synthetic voice sounded sad. “On a hundred worlds the Event has always been the same. Extinction for your kind.”
I told them that it’d be a lot easier to survive if not for all the animals they mutate into brutal, vicious killing machines.
“We are not concerned with survival of a species that is already doomed, esp
ecially considering humanity exists on a multitude of worlds throughout the universe. Your wildlife, however, will need some adjustments in order to continue in this new world. Thus, the alterations.” She took a donut. “I enjoy these for their sweetness.”
The Lad immediately followed suit, dunking his donut in his coffee and taking a bite. The three Mutators looked at one another, one of the males taking a donut and dunking it as well. The look on his face was one of utter surprise at the effect of hot coffee on the flavour and texture of a donut. The other two began doing the same.
“From a child of your species we learn something new. This is wonderful.” She said around a mouthful of coffee-soaked donut.
“We would like to discuss more things with you, but it is late in the rotation and the three of you seem weary. We shall lead you to somewhere that you will find comfortable to rest and speak again on the next rotation.” We were guided out of the room and down a long hallway, again made of shining metal. I reached out to touch a wall, finding it seemingly made of the same metal as the chairs, as my fingers sank into the surface slightly, but left no impression when I took them away.
A short while later our guide led us to a small room with a number of alcoves in the walls, designed as bunks. There were no pillows or blankets, but the temperature inside this compound was pleasant enough that extra warmth was unnecessary, and the lack of pillows was a minor inconvenience that was barely noticeable by this stage of the Apocalypse.
We were shown how to use the wall panel to create food before the guide left us. The thing was amazing, it was capable of creating anything at all in seconds. Moments later we were stuffing ourselves with roasted pork, fried rice and ice-cream. Even Criss-Cross was able to acquire some Klee-vics food, that smelled something awful, but that he devoured with relish.
With a full belly, my thoughts turned to Apocalypse Girl. I missed her more than I thought possible.
Journal of A.G.
The discovery of the rabbit carcass had us all a bit on edge. We compared the little mutant’s teeth to the marks on the bones of the corpses found nearby, they matched the scrapes and gouges perfectly. Whatever nefarious plan these other aliens, these Mutators had, these Plague-bunnies were potentially even more deadly than the Drop-bears.
In the end, we decided to return to The Master’s Fortress, carrying the killer rabbit carcass with us as proof of what was happening to the south of the Queen’s Realm. He was not happy about the horrid little beast’s appearance, though he did make a couple of terrible jokes about its ‘nasty, big, pointy teeth’ and asked Deathwish to take it back to The Queen to show her.
The Master also decided that now was the time to send his daughter back to her mother with us, as further north there was less likelihood of a Plague-bunny invasion. He told his people about the critter, made sure they saw the carcass and understood the danger, before ordering that steps be taken to defend against them if they came near The Fortress.
The Master also told me to show Her Majesty the carcass, make sure she understands the dangers, and ask her for any help that she’d be willing to give. The look in his eyes as we parted ways was one of slow-burning terror.
Unfortunately, The Master had not heard anything more from Book, but the knowledge that he was alive still kept me going, still gave me hope that I’d see him again soon.
October 18th Year 1 A.Z.
morning
As we were having a breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs, and copious quantities of coffee, the female Mutator entered our room to greet us. I invited her to join us for coffee at least and took note that when she used the wall panel to generate her drink in her own tongue, her voice did not sound synthetic at all. Remarking on this, she confirmed my suspicions; she had an implant similar to the translator thing that the Klee-vics commander had used before the entire species, it seemed, learned English.
“Our capacity for learning language does not compare to that of your companion, as he has access to the Collective. That solves a number of issues with regards to communications, as an entire species can learn the language of another culture almost instantaneously. Sometimes I feel that their biological technology far surpasses our own mechanical variety.” The explanation left my brain sore.
Criss-Cross explained further that the Collective was kind of a hive mind that all of his people shared on a subconscious level, but that the Klee-vics Empress was able to directly influence. There were some ways that one of his kind could be cut off from the Collective, and if that were to happen it would be akin to going feral… There is little that can be done to control a feral Klee-vics, they really need to be put down for the greater good of the community.
“I once had the opportunity to observe one of your kind being cut off from the Collective. It was a frightening experience.” She confirmed Criss-Cross’s words. “The Klee-vics ran about slashing at everything that drew near to him. We made several attempts to calm him but were unable to do so. In the end we were forced to disintegrate him.”
“It is the only way. I am thankful that it happens so rarely.” Criss-Cross chittered as he spoke, his legs dancing on the spot uneasily. “This is a subject that our kind find difficult to discuss.”
“I understand this. I apologise for making you uncomfortable. Come, let us continue our discussion from yesterday.” She led us out of the room, back through the long hall and into the meeting chamber. “It will only be me talking with you today, as my companions are occupied with other details.”
noon
The discussion went on all morning, with the Mutator asking a bunch of questions about life on Earth, how Earth-humans went about their lives, things of that nature. We answered all of her questions only to be asked more, about how we’d managed to survive ‘the Event’ for as long as we had. She wished to examine our weapons, though did not for a moment suggest taking them away from us and was amazed at the fact that with minimal technology such as swords and guns we were able to defend ourselves from our own Dead as well as we had been.
I asked her what her own species was called. She answered, giving a name that was unpronounceable, and only available in her own language. She told us that Mutators was fine for the human word for her species, it was something that they did, after all.
Her kind, she told us, were primarily interested in science and knowledge. If they could learn about a creature, they’d happily travel halfway across the galaxy just to get a look at it for a couple of minutes. The fact that they tinkered with the biology of creatures on human worlds that had suffered through ‘the Event’ was of secondary importance. Some creatures given increased regenerative capacity, such as with our local population of cows, turning them into inexhaustible Meat-Beasts, would not only keep them alive, but would sustain other species as well.
When Survivor asked how the Meat-Beasts were meant to breed, the answer was simply that they no longer needed to. Each one would regenerate no matter how much flesh had been taken from them, indefinitely. The Lad shuddered at this. I offered that it was no way to live, only to be told that it was little different from how humanity had used cows in the past. The only difference was that we no longer needed to kill the beast to acquire the flesh. With a strange expression, she also told us that they’d modified the bovine brain such that its pain receptors were almost non-existent. If they had to suffer being butchered or devoured alive, at least they’d not be able to feel it.
“What do they eat, though?” The Lad’s face bore a mask of intense fascination mixed with mild horror and disgust.
“They no longer require that form of sustenance. Everything that they require they get simply by breathing. Microbes in the air are more than enough for them to survive, and even thrive, no matter the climate.” She told us. “We were able to do something similar with the aquatic creature you know as ‘squid’ as well. The size difference is far greater with these, however, as they are able to ingest much greater quantities of sustenance from the oceans. Both are available for use by hum
ans as well as our other altered specimens.”
“Why make Dingoes worse than they were, though?” Survivor sounded angry. I didn’t blame her; I’d seen firsthand the destruction that they could cause. “They were bad enough as they were.”
The answer was not a simple one, and again revolved around the fact that there weren’t meant to be any surviving humans left on this planet after a couple of weeks of Apocalypse.
evening
We left the Mutators’ compound after our discussion with their Administrator, who accompanied us back to our vehicle. Survivor radioed in to Sanctuary, letting the Rangers know that we were all okay and that we’d made friends. The Administrator told us that she’d like to examine Sanctuary, get to know some of the people there, and that she’d follow in a day or so. I felt certain that German Doctor would likely pick her brains about her own species and culture as much as she’d be able to answer any questions that The Administrator might have. The two seemed very much alike in many ways.
The journey back to Sanctuary was fairly uneventful. I sent The Kid mental messages, trying to get some idea of how things went with his horde but received no response. He’d be back soon enough though. I was a little concerned that the Raiders would somehow interfere with things once they’d realised that their plan of keeping the Rangers out of action by locking their Sanctuary down with the Dead had failed.
We arrived at Sanctuary shortly after sunset, Survivor and The Lad running into their home exuberantly. German Doctor waited just inside the door for me and Criss-Cross and bombarded the pair of us with questions as soon as we’d entered the building. What they were like, what they were up to, all that sort of thing. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree when I told her that The Administrator would be visiting Sanctuary shortly.
Journal of A.G.
Made it back to Adelaide early this afternoon. Lots of hugs from Viking and Valkyrie, lots of slobber from Apocalypse Dog. Nothing new happening here in the most well-protected heart of what remained of civilisation.
October Page 7
