You don’t have to stand on the shoulder of giants if you reproduce fast enough to climb a mountain of dead bodies. - Unknown, referring to the Strevik'al Dominion
Never forget, it's the second mouse that gets the cheese. - On the Dra.Falten, Mantid Diplomatic Corps
Have rcy on , oh Hell Queen!
Hell Queen? No. Worse. It's just . The Detainee, in the flesh. Unlike the Hell Queen, I am not known for my rcy.
It isn't fair, I didn't do anything to deserve this!
My dog didn't deserve to get eaten by a bunch of Okies but here we are. - Conversation between The Detainee and a Hellbound Soul
The macroplas squealed as the thick round tentacles squird against it, rubbing over it, leaving behind thick trails of clear sli. The ends of the tentacles, sotis blunt, sotis with spikes, probed at the edges slowly. Occasionally the tentacle would sohow unroll, showing a flat surface covered with thick ridged suckers, often with curved spikes of cartilage. Those squealed across the macroplas at a higher pitch but never left anything behind but sli.
The two Dra.Falten were sitting next to one of the interior walls. The female soldier had unbuttoned her top and dropped it to her waist. She sat in front of the male, who was busy pawing at her fur, grooming her silently, as both of them bruxed their back teeth in anxiety. Now and then the male would lean slightly forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She would reach up and stroke his fur from between his ears, down his muzzle, to his nose, making soft noises of reassurance.
The Strevik'al soldier was sitting in front of the window, staring out at the tentacles. He neither moved nor spoke, just sat silently, hardly blinking, as if the tentacles would give up and go away if he just stared long and hard enough.
The Strevik'al scientist was busy pulling apart what Unverak had determined was so kind of pay point. The case was cracked open, the guts torn out, and the Strevik'al scientist was categorizing the tiny microchip laden boards by size and by other criteria that Unverak neither knew or cared about.
Unverak himself sat on a dusty seat, the plas cover stiff and crackling with movent, the padding reduced to rock hardness by age.
But it beat sitting on the floor.
The Dremkilia sat next to him, staring at the blank ceiling, humming contentedly to itself as he rocked back and forth slightly.
Unverak looked at his hands for a long mont then turned to the Dremkilia.
"How long have we been here?" he asked.
The Dremkilia closed his eyes for a mont then opened them. "Inside this room? Six hours, nineteen minutes, seventeen seconds when you asked. On this planet? Twenty-nine hours, forty-two minutes, eleven seconds when you asked."
Unverak nodded.
"How does he know? Does he have cyberware to tell him?" the Dra.Falten soldier asked. "I have a calendar-clock on my implant, but it is flashing error."
"He is a Dremkilia. They are nearly as accurate as an atomic clock when it cos to ti keeping," Unverak said.
The Way of the ans soldier frowned, but nodded. The male scientist started grooming her ears and she leaned back, sighing.
"How far did we travel in total?" Unverak asked.
"We traveled in a straight line for sixteen miles, then turned and traveled another three miles until we arrived here," the Dremkilia smiled.
"Thank you," Unverak said.
"I helped," the Dremkilia said, his smile getting broader.
"Yes, yes you did," Unverak said. He looked down at the debris at his feet. "That brings up sothing else."
"What?" the Way of the ans soldier asked. She reached back and patted the scientist on the chest. "Pay attention."
"I have not felt the need to urinate or move my bowels. I do not feel hungry, nor do I feel much fatigue," Unverak said. "Has anyone else had a different experience?"
The Dremkilia shook his head before anyone else.
"We all closed our eyes and rested," Unverak said. He looked at the Dremkilia. "How long did we sleep?"
"Ninety-one minutes. Each person slept fully for ten to twenty minutes, then woke for sixty to ninety seconds, before sleeping again," the Dremkilia said.
Unverak nodded. "And we all entered Rapid Eye Movent sleep almost imdiately. As soon as it ended, we woke up slightly, then fell back asleep and went back into REM sleep," Unverak looked at his hands. "We only dream for the first five to twenty minutes of sleep for neurological reasons, then we sleep to purge toxins from our systems," he said. He looked up. "We only entered REM sleep, repeatedly, yet I feel no side effects from toxin buildup."
The others looked around, then shrugged. The Strevik'al scientist went back to using a flattened piece of scrap tal to peel the chips off of the circuit board.
"Maybe we are in the afterlife. Suffering punishnt for our actions in life," the Strevik'al soldier said, without looking away from the squirming tentacles. "That Terror, she is known as the Matron of the Damned, the Lady Lord of Hell, who punishes Terror, Fallen Confederacy, and Lost Council souls for their sins in life."
"How do you know this?" the Dra.Falten scientist asked, smoothing the Way of the ans trooper's fur with the blunt tips of his claws.
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The soldier shrugged. "After my terrible experience, I researched everything I could, searching for answers. I discovered the Matron of the Damned during my research. I put it aside as a myth, a legend to explain things that the Terror did not understand, like the prevailing theory of religions states."
The tentacles made a low, drawn out squealing noise as they squird on the macroplas and the Strevik'al soldier just continued to stare at it.
"I had hoped it would help ," the soldier said softly. "It did not."
Silence fell as Unverak looked at his hands again. He rembered tripping repeatedly while climbing the mounds of rubble that had been skyrakers, but there was no markings on his hands. He went over the day, going over the mory of after the fight between the Terrors.
He got up and moved around, picking up a piece of debris, then moving over to sit down again.
He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then squeezed the piece of tal in his hand. Taking another deep breath, he closed his eyes, held his breath, and yanked the piece of tal out of his hand.
It gashed his palm-pad deeply. Blood imdiately bubbled up, thick and purple, pouring into the fur around the palm-pad.
"What are you doing?" the Dra.Falten scientists asked, standing up.
"Why?" the Dremkilia's eyes were wide with shock.
"Wait," Unverak said.
Before he was done with the word the blood got a strange silvery sheen. The pain receded. Then it looked as if frost was covering it. Then it had a bubbled and thick silverish-gray covering. The pain was absent completely. There was a slight tugging feeling, strange and unfamiliar, across his palm-pad. Then the silverish coating began to fizz and steam.
It evaporated, leaving behind unmarred flesh.
Unverak nodded. "As I suspected."
"What? How?" the Way of the ans troop asked.
"The mist? Sothing else?" Unverak said. "We have known that Terror and Fallen Confederacy mastery of nanites far surpasses anything that our three nations are capable of," Unverak tapped his palm-pad. Not even a twinge of pain. "It has been theorized that they can make many different types of nanites that we have not even considered and use those nanites to accomplish things we would think were impossible."
"Nanny spray is good on cuts but you aren't supposed to use too much of it," the Dremkilia smiled.
Unverak nodded. "We all have dical nanites. Small enough to move through the larger veins, able to repair tissue damage, but all of them are modified viruses," he looked at the piece of tal. There had been a sar of blood on the end, but now it was clean, gleaming, despite having been a grayish color due to oxidation. "That ans that they need to be held in stasis before use," he pointed at the fog. "Terror nanites are believed to be chanical in nature, thus they can exist outside of stasis solution, ready for use at an instant's notice."
"But why were you willing to cut yourself?" the Dra.Falten scientist asked.
"The Terrors suffered terrible wounds in that battle we witnessed," Unverak said. Most of the others nodded. The Strevik'al scientist was busy putting things back together in what looked like a random order. "The ones that were not imdiately killed had their wounds first stop bleeding, then covered with what looked like foad aluminum, then seed to regain strength."
He looked at his hand again.
"I scraped my hands and knees several tis crawling up the rubble piles," he said. He tapped a hole in the left knee of his coveralls. "Yet, my skin is unmarred, even my fur is back."
The others nodded, although the Strevik'al soldier was back to staring out the window.
"I theorized, and now have more proof to support my theory, that sothing was healing up wounds. So outside force," Unverak said. He held his palm out. "Perhaps even an inside force."
"What do you an?" The Way of the ans soldier asked.
"If it is Terror nanites, we've been inhaling them the entire ti. My leading theory is that the fog is laden with trillions of nanites per breath, that now they are through our blood stream, in our tissues, and heal our injuries, cleanse away toxins, perhaps even destroy harmful bacteria and viruses in our body," Unverak said. He dropped his arm and turned up his palm so he could look at his hand. "How my injury rapidly healed is more evidence that suggests, does not prove but suggests, that the theory may be correct."
"If it matters," the Strevik'al soldier said softly.
"Any discovery, made through evidentiary processes, could help us determine what the Detainee wishes us to accomplish as well as may help us survive," Unverak said.
"Didn't help that poor bastard," the Strevik'al soldier said, pointing at the base of the window.
A Terror lay there, the tentacles rubbing all over him, but the Terror didn't move.
Unverak moved up and looked closely. "Why didn't the tentacles pull him away?"
"Maybe it isn't hungry any more?" the Strevik'al soldier said.
"I am Unverak," he said.
The soldier shrugged. "If you say so."
"Might I know you na?" Unverak asked.
"Rifleman First Class, retired, Shraku'ur," the Strevik'al said. He tilted his head back, flicking his ears backwards. "I do not know the na of trash."
Unverak nodded and looked at the two Dra.Falten.
"Senior Experinter Hrekkel," the Dra.Falten scientist said.
"Senior Agent Ee'eerlee'u," the Way of the ans soldier said. "You may call Leeu."
Unverak looked at the scientist.
"Taskapak 88542," the scientist said, twisting the small microcell to get it to press into the board.
Unverak looked at the Dremkilia.
"Quillik," the Dremkilia said, getting to his feet. He puffed out his chest. "Miner Sixth Class, certified laser and chanical drill and jackhamr operator, certified sonic jackhamr operator, certified ore hauler operator, certified rock crusher operator, certified ore processor operator, certified mining cartographer and surveyor with ore discovery certificates, certified self-supervisory capable mining operations, low yield explosive charge demolition certification, vacuum and hazardous area suit certified, zero gravity mining certified," he smiled widely. "Father of nine children, top ten thousand rating with the population selection system. Double Rations for Life winner."
Unverak looked suitably impressed.
The sirens suddenly changed pitched. Instead making the slow oscillation in tone it suddenly began making three low tones followed by three higher tones, each spaced by a half second.
"Look," the soldier Shraku'ur called out.
Unverak turned just in ti to see the tentacles whip away. He moved up to the window and looked down to see if he could see the tentacles perhaps pulling away the corpse of the Terror.
The fog suddenly went a dark crimson with brighter crimson tendrils in it.
There was an odd feeling that made Unverak's fur stand up on the side of his body toward the window.
The sli glimred and vanished.
The body of the Terror suddenly dissolved, leaving behind only an intact skeleton, only the slightly yellowish greasy look to them differentiating it from the other skeletons that Unverak had seen.
The fog turned sickly yellow.
The siren turned off.
The Strevik'al soldier, Shraku'ur, stood up, brushing his hands off on his pant legs.
"We should get moving again," he said.
Unverak nodded silently, staring at the skeleton.
How is most likely biological waste recovery. Who is obviously the Terrors. The What is most likely advanced nanite technology. Where is right in front of , all around , Unverak thought to himself. Now I just need "Why" beyond the desire to keep down biological hazards.
He looked at the window.
No, it's more than that.
"We're ready," the Dra.Falten Way of the ans soldier said.
Unverak turned around and followed the others to the door, which the Dremkilia was helping the Dra.Falten scientist clear. The Strevik'al scientist was ssing with the junk in his hands and although the Strevik'al soldier got an angry glint in his eyes, he didn't say anything.
Once the debris was clear, the Dra.Falten soldier opened the door, checked both ways, and led the group through the hallway to the door at the end of the hallway on the left.
"Ready?" she asked.
Everyone just nodded.
She pushed in the door.
The fog poured in, tendrils exploring first, winding around everyone, then billowing out in a cloud.
They followed one another into the glowing yellow-ish fog.
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