Three
Tyger heard it first: a clicking noise, then a whirring, as if some tiny machine, or a very large insect with metallic wings, was approaching nearby through the foliage.
A small form had dropped down from the boughs of the tree, just out of the corner of Tyger’s eye: a green and dull silver blur, about the size of a basketball. When it skittered out of the undergrowth into full view, he had no idea of what to make of it. Blair’s ecosystem was like Earth’s Cretaceous period on every kind of steroid known to man, but even this world couldn’t have spawned such a mismatched-looking abomination as what appeared before him. At first glance, it reminded him of the remote controlled toys he played with back at home on An’Re’Hara … if someone had attached a pile of vines and potted plants to the point where the division between plant and machine became indistinguishable. There were leaves, fronds, veins, even … well, at least it resembled bark. But then again, it also sported circuitry, motors, and a plethora of knife-like appendages made of a material that looked eerily like steel, all blended together impossibly into one piece. Wood became wire; leaves became levers; stems became servos. An eerie light pulsed through what seemed like a set of gills that undulated with a liquid chlorophyll green, passing through veins that ran across its surface in bizarrely geometric patterns.
A set of eyes –or several reddish orbs that Tyger supposed were eyes– extended on stems of geometric veined stalks from the depths of a mottled bark outer shell. Several scissor-like limbs made a hissing staccato as they flexed and rubbed against one another. Transfixed between curiosity and terror, Tyger studied it as intently as it seemed to study him. He stepped to the side. It mirrored his movement, skittering to the side like a crab, following him the way a serpent moved with its victim as it prepared to strike. Tyger tried to sidestep it, but the creature easily blocked his way, rolling on –to his initial shock– a set of heretofore unseen spherical wheels affixed impossibly to a set of wire-like vines at its rear. Another whirring noise whined sharply in his ears, and slowly, the creature raised yet another tendril that had not been there before. Affixed to its end was a flat, spinning disc, like an evil pizza cutter, as if that were somehow possible. It whirred with machine-like precision, and slowed down only long enough to reveal its row of tiny, saw-like teeth.
“What the hell are you?” Tyger whispered … then the attack came. The one before him remained still as a blur flashed towards him from the corner of his eye. With impossible speed, Tyger saved himself from being sliced through, instead, skewering the creature with his machete. The spinning blade flew by mere inches from his face tumbling into the undergrowth. Taking a moment to collect himself, Tyger wondered how he’d survived the attack with his frontal lobe intact. His attention quickly returned to the other creature, which, taking advantage of his distraction, struck. Innumerable bladed appendages stretched out from its underside, as it launched itself towards his face. Tyger swept his machete in a circular pattern, deflecting the blades, and then, with a mighty swing, hacked the creature in two before abruptly losing his footing. He collapsed ungracefully onto his backside the compacted earth, which proved as unforgiving as it looked. A viscous dark green ichor spewed from the creature’s remains as it fell, splattering his shirt. The tendril that brandished its own spinning blade dropped weightily, planting its grisly weapon directly between his legs. It smelled positively foul.
Tyger scrambled back and hoisted himself onto his feet, cursing in ways that probably would have demanded a week’s penance from the priests and priestesses at the temple back home. Crouching down with a heightened sense of caution and a generous amount of fear, he approached the corpse of the creature.
It stank just as badly as the fluid that befouled his shirt. The ichor that it bled reeked of iron filings and two week-old spinach forgotten in the back of the refrigerator. During his time as a member of the Shadow Star’s crew, he had seen nearly every world of the Colonies and a half dozen within the Imperium; this thing gave the term “otherworldly” a special significance. Had it not been for its plant-like appearance, he would have said that it was related to the arachnids of Sepra. But unless someone had experimented extensively with those species, that connection was a long shot, to say the least.
Tyger poked at the dismembered body with his assault rifle, turning it over in the dirt. In confirmation to what he thought he’d seen when it first appeared, there was nowhere that revealed where the organism ended and the technology began. Initially Tyger speculated that some crazy scientist had tried grafting prosthetics to a heretofore unknown living organism. However, the more he stared, in fact, the more he began to realize that these mechanical limbs were not grafts at all. They were truly part of the creature, artificial components that seemed to grow out of vegetable matter, and plant-like parts grew out of what appeared to be mechanical devices.
“Again, what the hell are you?” He muttered, before freezing at yet another noise. It was followed by a dreadfully familiar scent, though far from the faint odor he had previously detected. It now permeated the air. Detecting movement out of the edges of his vision, Tyger looked up, and almost wet himself for the first time since his childhood.
There had to be twenty of the creatures in all, surrounding him, nearly blending in with the concealing foliage and wreckage; only the machine-like parts gave them away. Three rested upon the masticated form of the guide, while five piled atop the crushed heap that used to be the van. Tendrils extended from their patchwork bodies and worked their way into their purchases. Geometric patterns of veins grew into flesh and steel, and turned all that they touched black. Tyger watched, transfixed with disgust and wonder as the remnants of the vehicle dissolved like acid, and then vanished, like a time lapse film of rotting mulch.
Tyger spun around and faced the other twelve that slowly approached, skittering cautiously forward like a swarm of green, brown, and silver cockroaches zeroing in on a food source. A simultaneous high of adrenaline and crushing dread enveloped Tyger’s senses as he gripped his assault rifle more securely in his right hand and switched his machete uneasily to his left.
The monster in the center leaped forward and was promptly shredded by a hail of bullets as Tyger squeezed the trigger of his assault rifle. The creature made a horrifying shriek as each round ripped through it, showering Tyger with the rancid ichor. Gritting his teeth, Tyger fired wildly, sending a volley of bullets towards the second creature to assert itself, the rifle producing a resounding thunderclap that shattered the otherwise perfect silence of the forest followed by the gentle rattling of expended ammo shells hitting the floor. He repeated the process with each creature with grim determination as they spread out and began attacking from different angles. Tyger began to realize with growing terror, that they were getting smarter. It was becoming more difficult to keep them at bay and his clothes became ripped as he dodged their potentially eviscerating grasps, sharp blades threatening to sink into his all too delicate flesh. On more than one occasion, he thanked the Creator for the fact that Felyans, like mongooses of lost Earth, could stand their fur on end for extra protection from the poisonous fangs of a king cobra. The creatures, jabbing and sweeping with their vicious weapons, seemed to have the exact same problem as the cobra, telling where the fur of his arms ended and he began.
But confidence in his own natural defenses wasn’t enough to stem the tide of fear that licked at the edges of his awareness. The barrage of attacks brought him to his limit, and after thinning out the front line, his courage met its end. Obeying his baser impulses at last, he made a run for it, detaching from the thinned-out ranks of creatures and melting deeper into the woods. He followed the path at first, then leapt wildly into the underbrush. The sounds of pursuit from the relentless creatures haunted his ears as he ran. Unable to escape the stench, he couldn’t tell if it came from him or his pursuers. Either way, it was nauseating. Deeper and faster he ran, hounded by the stink of ichor and the skittering of feet behind him dogging his steps no matter how fast his legs seemed to carry him. Realization dawned on him with frightening clarity. He would never to outrun them. Running, in fact, had been a very, very bad idea. With their rapidly moving plethora of legs combined with those spheres, their motility outclassed his in every possible way. Exhaustion would make him an easy … was it prey they sought? Had they eaten the corpse and wreckage? Whatever it was they’d done to it, he would certainly be next.
Skidding to a halt in a clearing that ran parallel to the trampled path, Tyger stood his ground, panting to the point of dizziness and nausea. The shots of his rifle perforated three more of the creatures that emerged from the trees before it jammed.
“Shit!” Tyger hissed as he tossed the useless firearm to the side. He needed time he did not have to fix the problem. He ran a hand absently over the bandolier across his shoulder; if there had been an opportunity to reload, then ammo wouldn’t be a problem.
He drew one of his pistols, a magcel he’d brought to the planet from the Shadow Star –one of his father’s favorites, according to his mother–, and let loose into the pursuing creatures. He winced as he watched the first one explode from the magnetically accelerated round. Yet more of the offensive ichor rained down over him. Ignoring it, he fired again and again, making short work of the horde before they could get close enough to use whatever myriad bladed horrors they brandished.
I should’ve picked this weapon first, Tyger thought, and for one hopeful moment, was impressed with himself. But he learned quickly that overconfidence was a vindictive mistress. As the last of the pursuing abominations tore apart into a splatter of black liquid and spare parts on the forest floor, something akin to a black spider’s web spurted out and attached itself to the pistol. Tyger spun around as a creature that leaped out of the foliage, nearly losing his face to its ‘pizza cutter’ appendage. He severed the stem before realizing he’d even begun the action, then nearly dropped his machete … in addition to an extra weight in his pants.
Twenty more of the creatures waited, sliding the bladed edges of their appendages against each other like galvanized mantises. Preparing to fight to the end, Tyger paused, feeling an odd sensation in his hand. He’d forgotten about the black gunk that one of the creatures had vomited at him. He realized that the magcel was now filled with those geometric veins like those that had ripped apart the remains of the van not but a moment before, and the weight of the gun was becoming lighter. He flexed his hand, which still gripped the handle. It gave, as if having changed from metal to sponge. With a yelp, he shook the corroded weapon from his hands, and watched it disintegrate into black mulch in midair. The tendril of black ooze, keeping steadfast hold on what remained of the magcel retracted into a nearby creature’s steel-toothed green maw.
“Oh, screw this,” Tyger groaned, breaking into a stumbling run back the way he came. Blind, raw panic soon melted into an echoing corridor of wild, consuming terror, enveloping his senses and crushing them into their most atavistic modes. He pushed himself forward, hacking, biting, and clawing at anything that restrained him, claw or vine, branch or bough, ripping through underbrush, swiping blindly with his machete, raging against any perceived attempt to secure him, and yanking with all his force at any snags, his imagination transforming them into the monsters’ eviscerating appendages, barely aware of their sharpness or the pain as some managed a purchase in his flesh. He grasped his spare pistol and turned firing indiscriminately into the pursuing mob of horrors until that weapon was removed from him as well by an errant branch, and then consumed by the creatures. He pushed himself through the woods, wide eyed, fear reducing his vision to a blur of shadows and light. On some faraway level beneath the panic, he knew that if the creatures were smart enough, they would soon discover the lack of direction in his flight as he randomly changed from one barely tangible path to the next. Using their speed they would soon outflank him. And these woods would become his tomb.
Expecting to see them dropping from the canopy into his path, Tyger was therefore completely unprepared for the creatures change in strategy. A tendril that fired from one of the creatures ended his flight, rooting itself into the ground and wrapping around his legs. Tyger hit the deck. Exhaustion overcame him and the last vestiges of his strength bled out of his screaming lungs and burning limbs. Weak and gasping, he snatched at nearby vines and roots kicking out trying remove the tendril from his legs. Sapped of energy his every attempt was a token effort, numb, pathetic and ineffectual. The creatures had him. He would die, in a very unpleasant manner and he could no longer do anything to prevent it. Giving in to a feeling of helplessness, he tried to make good use of the few gasping breaths he had. Red eyes surrounded him staring at him from their bizarre biotechnological stalks. He felt his body being dragged to its ultimate destiny, the sounds of grinding metal blades growing closer and louder. As his options began to run out Tyger’s mind turned to the one thing he could think of to do with the tatters of strength left to him.
“By the Creator’s will, I die. By Trisii’s love, I am free. I submit myself into the will of the Creator. May my sins be absolved and I be brought to eternal peace.”
“See you soon, dad,” he murmured hoarsely against the fresh smelling earth, happy at least that this would be the one good thing about today. Still, he could not help but feel a pang of sorrow for his mother. The Knives of Blair would have claimed both of the men whom she loved most. He could only pray that the Creator would give his mother strength enough to go on.
Closing his eyes Tyger prepared for his imminent death when the dragging stopped. Moreover, he became aware of the silence. It roared in his ears. Where there had been the clicking noise emitted by the creatures there was, as it had been when the stampede had ended, nothing. A brief cacophony ensued containing the deafening screeches of dying monsters, and the ring of steel against steel. Rolling over he blinked, but his vision was blurred and he returned to facing the dirt.
The sounds became garbled noise in his ears before silence claimed him again. An unseen force turned him over soon afterwards, and the light of the suns through the canopy nearly blinded him as it had in Solace when he awoke in the healer’s home. A figure stood above him, as consciousness seeped out of him. It was too tall to be the healer or the hiltbearer; either way they hadn’t killed him yet.
