All The Frail Futures: A Science Fiction Box Set

by J Battle

  Then Pi was beside him, with one slender hand on his arm.

  ‘Hold yourself in,’ she whispered, ’don’t let it go. Look.’ She pointed across the foot hills.

  He followed her gaze, and then he saw him, running naked across the green hills, lightning forking from his fingers, roars of agony and challenge echoing across the land.

  ‘You have to stop him, before he hurts himself.’

  ‘What have you done to us?’

  ‘Go Daniel, now, whilst you can still save him.’

  J’s roars echoed across the growing distance between them.

  With a roar of his own, D burst into a run that carried him effortlessly up the nearest hill. He leapt from the crest of that hill to the next, the inhuman blood in his human veins burning his body, making him gasp at the pain. On and on he ran; for there was nothing he would not endure for his brother.

  Behind him, Pi retained her human form for a few seconds longer. She allowed herself a smile that would have chilled a human observer.

  The Wall had changed them forever; on a cellular level they were hardly human any longer. They would be capable of incredible feats, as long as their bodies could bear the unnatural stresses of their newborn powers.

  She smiled, not out of pleasure at the pain the process was inflicting on them, but because Daniel and Jason had now committed themselves utterly to her cause.

  And she saw that that was good.

  *********

  The river was languid and slow as it ambled towards the shallow sea. The grit scum was clearly visible, even in the dim early afternoon light you could see the bruise-like discolourations as they floated on the surface. But there was less grit than you’d normally expect.

  Another change, thought Lus, as he sat on the same rock he had shared with Handus. It was just a few days ago, he knew, although it seemed so much longer. Then, he had been a simple soldier, with a new friend to entertain and enjoy. No worries troubled his mind, no complications darkened his days. All he needed was someone to fight, a good meal every day, and the attentions of a fragrant female when good fortune befell him.

  Now, it was hard to recall what that existence had felt like. Now, he was no longer a soldier. The army was disbanded and would not be required for any purpose, other than ceremonial, for another three years, when the next war would take place. Now, he no longer had his friend; taken from him in a display of treachery he found it hard to comprehend.

  Now, all he could think of was the little ape with the stick thing, and the tall, red, painted ape. If he closed his eyes, the shaved chin was there, and the gesture; well done, little ape.

  So, today, he was sitting on the rock, watching the river. Across, on the other side, he could see apes collecting the Field’s produce from the small boats manned by the farmer cats. When the transfers were complete, the cats would tie up their boats and climb the bank and spend the night in the lodging houses scattered along the road. It would be too dangerous to travel back to this side of the river, as they’d have no chance of reaching Hellion before nightfall. For some reason not obvious to him, the clickerclackers always stayed on the cats’ side of the river. Perhaps they couldn’t swim.

  When all of the activity on the river had finished and night was about to fall, he would turn from the view of his enemy’s land and climb the watch tower. There he would be safe from the attentions of the clickerclackers and be able to watch the few remaining lights on the other side.

  For tomorrow, he had arranged passage across the river with a farmer his litterkin knew, and booked a bed in a lodging house, though he knew he would not make much use of its facilities.

  There was a task he meant to undertake, and it would not leave much room for sleeping.

  And here, waiting for perhaps the penultimate nightfall of his life, he could already taste the blood that would come to him, the blood of the little ape and its lord and master, and that of any ape that might get in the way. Silently, he hissed.

  Chapter 31

  Tir-y-Ling leant forward and drew his tongue-like appendage across the coarse sand, then he pulled himself upright and considered the results. Moderate levels of salt, the tang of sea vegetation and the faint suggestion of animal life; all with a hint of burnt grit. Very nearly perfect, he thought. This world was going to be good for them; he was sure of that. All they had to do first was remove the sentient life forms and deal with the H’mlinquart problem. Then they would be left in peace to enjoy the great seas of this new world. At least until the end of this cycle. By that time, all of the indigenous inhabitants of those seas would have been consumed and the drive to leave and spread across the local systems would become paramount.

  He twisted to see if his companions were nearby. The base of his grey white body was a narrow knot of gristle and bone, supporting the rigid frame of his body as it flared up and out, to the broad flat summit of the inverted triangle that was his body. At either side hung eight limbs; three thick supporting limbs, two smaller, more delicate ones for manipulation and three slender tentacles used for breathing, feeding and various other purposes. In the centre of his chest, was a small triangular head, equipped with just a large pair of eyes. Below the head was a long semi-circular gash, fringed with tiny tentacles, and drooling slightly.

  As there was no-one else nearby, he dragged his heavy body closer to the water. His keen eyes had noticed something in the water, close to the edge. Slowly, he brought up his left side concertina tentacle and took deep breaths with the neighbouring tentacles.

  He held the pose for a couple of seconds, until he was sure he was ready, then he released the pressure and his concertina tentacle shot out at a terrific speed and snared the nosey fish. With a well-practiced movement, the catch was flicked into his mouth.

  He turned then, and was embarrassed to find that his surreptitious meal had been observed by Tor-y-Nat, his nominal superior in feeding/hygiene matters. Tor was a little smaller than Tir, and his hunger made his bulging blue veins stand out against his bleached white skin.

  ‘Weakness prevailed,’ Tir said, through his left vocal tentacle, blowing a low hum through his right one to indicate sorrow, finding it hard not to vibrate the note too much, which would suggest that the sorrow was qualified by embarrassment.

  ‘Engorgement will be encouraged when the correct time emerges to our perception,’ Tor’s right vocal tentacle almost hissed as it demonstrated the complicated emotions of distaste, disappointment and delight at catching him out.

  ‘Return to ship is required, for assistance in bringing to consciousness those who slept throughout our journey,’ Tor continued, right VT beeping in a business-like manner.

  Tir made no comment, though his right VT beeped in imitation of Tor’s as he turned and began to drag himself back towards the large globe that was settled in the sand further along the beach.

  Tor stayed for a moment, his mouth fringe rippled at the thought of the food that was so close.

  ‘Strength prevails,’ he said to himself, his right VT whistling self-righteously as he began to follow Tir towards the burn-blackened craft that had carried them so far.

  Lumbering towards him was Sun-y-Nat, his sub-wife, heavy with eggs, weak with hunger, but still blaring out joy at the sight of him through her single VT. Tor moved close to Sun and wrapped one tentacle around her round body; the eggs were almost visible through the hanging, saggy skin.

  ‘Food will be provided,’ he announced, reassurance sounding through his right VT.

  Together, they shuffled towards the globe.

  Towering above the craft was the great volcano, dominating the skyline as it reared up to the black, dust laden clouds that filled the visible half of the sky. The cone’s black sides were steep and convoluted, riven by the multitude of vents which spouted streams of red orange lava that burnt their voracious paths to the lowlands, and eventually to the sea.

  The colossus was relatively quiet today; hardly any ejecta had actually been thrown into the sky so far, but s
urely it was just a lull. Soon, it would erupt again, in a spasm of anger as it projectile-vomited its venom at the heavens.

  Tor guided Sun into the safety of the globe, and followed her inside the airlock. When they had cycled through into the interior, they floated along the wide corridor to the wakening chamber, their tentacles pulsing out jets of water behind them. Tor felt his vocal tentacles tightening as he looked forward to the awakening of Pre-y-Nat, his wonderful and daunting sur-wife.

  As he watched the narrow tubes being removed from her elegant body, his anticipation grew; he could hardly control the low hum leaking from his right VT. But he was not alone, there were others waiting with him. Senior people, with vaunted stations and skills, who acknowledged him only because he was the sub-husband of the great Pre-y-Nat, the much esteemed matriarchal leader of this expedition and soon to be the driving force that would carry her people to a glorious, crushing victory on this new planet.

  The technicians, all sub-wives with skillful tentacles, stepped back then, and there was a long pause as they waited for their leader to awaken.

  Pre-y-Nat lay absolutely still on the triangular bed for a moment longer, then, without warning, her vocal tentacles snapped straight and twin screeches filled the small chamber. The sub-wives moved back even further, and Pre-y-Nat lifted her body vertical, her large eyes staring straight ahead, her frill twisting and straightening as she tasted the water. Her eyes settled on the nearest sub-wife and her left concertina tentacle flicked out and caught the poor stunned creature. There was hardly time for her to be bleat her distress before she was flipped into her gaping maw.

  The other sub-wives hissed in shock at this casual atrocity. But they made no overt protest. It was clear, even to them, that there was a new world order, now that Pre-y-Nat, first amongst the sur-wives, was awake and in charge.

  Tor quivered with excitement as he dragged himself forward and presented himself to his Lady sur-wife, his right VT distended and pink, his support limbs braced for the impact.

  Pre watched him prepare himself, her milky white flesh already tinged with pink as she allowed the excitement to grow within her newly awakened body. With a deep groan of satisfaction from both of her VTs, she impaled herself on her sub-husband.

  Chapter 32

  There was not one single part of his body that didn’t hurt; that didn’t scream at him in a thousand voices to stop; that didn’t beg for a second’s respite from the agony.

  But, of course, he couldn’t stop. Not when his brother was out there, suffering the same hurt, the same scream made flesh, with every step. He had to reach out to him before he was completely lost to the pain.

  D had no idea how he was able to maintain a train of consecutive thoughts, how he could do other than just scream. Somehow, through some serendipitous fluke, his mind continued to work, perched though it was, on a narrow ledge, above the boiling magma of torment that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew who he was, he knew what was happening to him, and he knew what he had to do.

  He had to find his brother.

  The foothills were behind him now, as he ran across the luxurious vegetation that was the boundary to the Field, his feet bouncing on the springy redgrass as he strode out, following the burning footprints of his devastated twin. He knew that she was there, running without effort beside him, but he ignored her; he had no time for her. Still she whispered her words into his ear.

  ‘If you do not catch Jason soon, then it will be too late. He will perish and we will require you to take on his load.’

  The word ’perish’ caught his attention.

  ‘What have you done to us? Will this kill him?’

  ‘It will pass.’

  He accelerated, and for a second, she was gone; just for that single second.

  Deaf to her inconsequential utterances, he focused on J. And he found him, two hundred metres ahead, weaving from side to side as he ran, as if he was trying to evade the pain.

  Soon he was beside his brother. He placed one hand on his shoulder; feeling the heat that burned from him. J turned in response, and raised one hand half way towards him, in protest or supplication; he would never know. The hand seemed to lose its will to move, and hung there, between them. D took the hand in his, and pulled it to his chest.

  ‘J,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse, his throat burning from the screaming. He tried to pull him closer but, at the last moment, J pushed him away with a ferocious strength. He kept his grip on his hand, and would not let him free.

  ‘J., he urged, ’look at me.’

  Then J’s eyes rolled in their sockets, exposing the creamy whites, and his mouth opened in a silent scream, spittle flying into D’s face.

  With a scream of his own, loud enough for two, he grabbed his brother’s shoulders and forced him to accept his embrace. He hugged him then to his breast, and found a way to take a small part of the hurt from him, a small part that was enough to push him teetering towards the edge of madness himself.

  J gasped at the relief, and regained a little sense of himself.

  ‘D!’ the sound was an almost unintelligible croak, ‘I can’t do this!’

  ‘Bro, I’ll help,’ gasped D.

  ‘I can’t…’ No more came from him. Suddenly D was no longer hugging him; he was now supporting him as his body slumped into his arms. D almost succumbed to the madness then; who could have blamed him? But, somehow, his fingertips kept their tenuous grip on the slippery surface of sanity.

  Slowly he lowered his brother’s body to the ground. He knelt beside him and cradled his head in his lap, and closed his eyes. He pressed his hands against his brother’s chest, seeking some sign of life. But he was gone, flown far away from the unimaginable torment. The tears took an age to come, and when they did, they were silent as his body leaked a small part of the agony that had suddenly been increased to stretch the boundaries of his ability to bear.

  Pi stood quietly beside him. As she watched his struggles, she wondered if she was going to lose them both. It would be more than a little annoying if she had to find other subjects, she thought, as she turned her beautiful face to The Wall.

  Without another glance at the twins, she started to walk back. Her quick link with The Wall had served to buoy her spirits a little; she hummed as she walked.

  Chapter 33

  Lus bit deep. He savoured the taste of the blood and allowed it to drip from his half open mouth, as he bent over the dying ape. He took his own sweet time now; the ape’s fight had drained away with its blood, and it lay with its limbs splayed, defenceless. Disgusted at the lack of resistance, Lus gave a low snarl and ripped out its throat.

  For a second he raised his head, alert for danger. But there were no witnesses to his attack, so, with a sigh, he settled down to feed. With his powerful jaws, he tore the ape’s ribcage open, to reveal the delicacies within. The sight gave him pause; the red heart was still pulsing, as it pumped out the last of the blood. He flicked his eyes to those of the ape; they were glazed, unseeing; its mouth was a rictus of agony, its back was arched as it bore the terrible weight of the pain.

  As he watched, the moment came and, with a sigh, the poor beast died.

  Lus looked down at his blood soaked paws, at the gore that spattered his chest, at the warm carcass beneath him. He had never before killed an intelligent creature, away from the battlefield. Did sentience change anything? Was this animal anything more than food? The answer was clear; the rules said that it was wrong to kill a person without the justification of war. But was the war really over? How could it be when victory was achieved with such treachery? There was no guidance in the rules for this situation. Was it possible that he could make a new rule himself, to cover this new reality? That he could say that the war was not yet over, and that his actions were righteous. In fact, not only was he justified, this was his duty.

  He let the thoughts bounce around his brain for a few seconds, to see if any objections would emerge. As none were forthcoming, with a satisfied growl, he bent
down to his feast.

  An hour earlier, he had left his lodging-house, dropping from the first floor window so as not to be seen by the fat old ape that ran the place. Then he’d trotted along the wide yellow road towards the apes’ city, Avendi. He’d had no clear idea of how things would proceed; he’d assumed that this trip would be only to find out where the little ape could be found, and maybe find some trace of its master

  When he found the middle sized ape blocking his path, he had simply moved to one side, to carry on his journey. But the ape had stepped back in front of him, its small eyes staring at him, its jutting jaw hanging open, exposing thick, blunt teeth.

  ‘Loser,’ it had hissed as it raised its long powerful arms above its head, ‘loser.’

  Lus had looked around; they were alone.

  ‘Your victory is false,’ he’d said, quietly, settling a little on his haunches.

  ‘Lier. Loser. Lier. Loser.’

  An image had come to him then, of Handus falling to the ground, the feathered wood sticking from his chest.

  There had been a bleak joy in his roar as he’d pounced on the unsuspecting ape.

  **********

  Pre squeezed out of the airlock and allowed herself to flop on to the coarse pebbly beach, surrounded by her sub-wives, who kept a respectful, fearful distance. Behind her, drifting in the cloudy water of the awakening chamber, were the remnants of her sub-husband Tor, all duties now fulfilled.

  She dragged herself to the sea’s edge and dwelled for a moment, puzzled at her shadow across the water before her, on such a cloudy day. She half turned, and looked up at the bright, glowing jets of lava, shooting from the multitude of vents scattered all over the volcano’s precipitous sides. Plumes of black smoke were pouring from the mouth of the gigantic crater and drifting up to join with the heavy clouds.