From the Jaws of Death, Part IV
They are inside you
This story is a continuation of Bradley Ramsey‘s The Unfathomable Beast of Xanadu IV.
If you’ve already read this story, you can keep reading my version of the events that followed his story. But if you’re unfamiliar with the original tale, you should read it first. After all, his story is good.
Go to: » Part I « » Part II « » Part III « » the Finale «
The vessel Capable turns off its FTL drives, and the lightshow in the illuminators is finally replaced with what people can comprehend.
A giant space station of the Admiralty orbits a red dwarf, whose glow drowns out the starlight, making the space appear pitch-black. Once upon a time, a bunch of drunken, pareidolia-susceptible admirals came across this piece of rock and decided that it looked a lot like a wooden ship of ancient times. They took it as a sign. An army of underpaid, barely-skilled grunts has turned this rock into a space station that became the Admiralty after a short while.
A hundred long gun barrels stick out from the ship-shaped rock. The rows of illuminators are illuminated with strips of white lights. Large and small docking ports scattered across the surface are guarded by automated (or maybe manual?) laser turrets. And a whole bunch of steering rocket engines are constantly spewing flames to keep the station in orbit despite the constantly changing center of mass due to docking and undocking vessels.
A few dozen of ominous cruisers, destroyers, and frigates, all monstrous in size and armed to the teeth, are orbiting the station. Their warning lights are flashing, rocket engines are glowing, and the gun barrels are moving fast and with precision.
If I can capture them, the fight will be over before it really starts. If something goes wrong, we will all be pulverized instantly.
Thlorglathorblatt at the helm turns the Capable and joins a long queue of space vessels orbiting the station.
“No signs of any escape pods, Mother,” Gnarkleptophoboskra says, looking at the instruments. “But it doesn’t mean much, I know.”
One of the screens comes to life, signalling that we’re being hollered.
“Admiralty Docking Authority, Corporal Pratson speaking,” says a head on the screen. “You’re not on my list, Capable. What’s your reason for being here?”
“It’s Mayday, Corporal,” I lean towards the camera and make the most pleading voice the vocal cords of my new meat-suit are capable of. We’re all wearing the bodies of the crew members of this vessel, so that no one would suspect anything. “The oxygen tanks are damaged, and the recuperation apparatus is malfunctioning. We won’t make it much longer!”
The Corporal’s bored face doesn’t flinch a bit. “Please wait.”
The screen goes black. My children look at me like I know what to do next. Was there a plan B? Well, we could try to find another vessel, the one that’s surely authorized to dock, but that would be very risky. Minutes pass in silence.
The screen comes to life again. “Docking port 42, Capable. We have a few repair crews available, if you have the money. The docking fees are non-negotiable. And if you make a mess while fixing your vessel, the cleanup will cost you extra.”
Fighting a strong urge to immediately skin and quarter the bored motherfucker, I put on a smile, thanking our savior. Oh, now you’ll learn, Corporal Pratson. Now you’ll learn…
~*~
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Admiral Karth’s voice asks. “What if they call us on our bluff?”
I throw some more water onto the hot stones, and the whole huge sauna fills up with steam. Hidden from the sight of the admirals by a low mural wall, we have a nice setup here, with stacks of towels, oils, lotions, and special refrigerators with fruit and alcohol. A battery of fragrance bottles is bolted to the wall next to me. Anya, my fellow servant next to it, chooses which fragrances to use, opens the small taps, and the mix of the aromas picked up by the stem fills the air.
“Err, bluff?” Admiral Amana raises her voice questioningly. “I thought it was the idea to let the prisoners go if the planets stop paying.”
I let another servant walk past me. He holds a golden carafe full of pink wine and intends to refill someone’s golden chalice.
There was a time when I had his job. I used to drool over the admirals’ chiseled, strong, tall bodies with perfect skin and hair. Nowadays, I prefer to hide in here, regulating the temperature and humidity. Their bodies are a product of corruption. After reaching power, the admirals spend their days exercising, fucking, eating, soaking in hot water and steam, and plotting brain-dead plots that work only because of their immense power. If not for the breathtaking pay, I would be long gone from this accursed place.
“Won’t it bite us in the ass? I don’t want to watch my back.” Admiral Karth says with a voice full of pleasure. I know he’s getting a great massage. My fellow servant does it masterfully. Yet, the fucker doesn’t deserve her skills.
“Relax, Karthy, we’re safe here!” Admiral Idriss exclaims. “If it goes bad, we can always blame the planets for avoiding their responsibility of detaining criminals, invade them, and make sure they do their part.”
The earpiece I’m wearing detects a faint sound of something hitting the floor. One of the admirals, probably Idriss, once again sent some grapes flying off their bunch. I sigh, for I couldn’t refuse this aspect of the job, and slowly leave my refuge to fix the mess.
The spacious room has a deep, square pool of hot blue water at its center. On each side of the pool stands a sofa of white wood and golden leather. Two admirals half-sit on each, sometimes with their backs one against another, sometimes facing one another, but all of them can see and talk to each other across the pool.
Staring at the floor to see less of the naked bodies I grew to hate, I make my way towards the sofa where Admirals Idriss and Karth sit. I collect a few green grapes from the creamy-yellow marble floor behind the sofa. But there are still a few left closer to the pool, so I get on my fours, keep close to the floor not to disturb the conversation, and make my way there.
“Speaking of invading,” Admiral Garza’s voice reaches me from across the pool. “They’re keeping buzzing into my ears about that planet, Xanadu IV. Something-something about not taking it seriously. Something-something about a threat to the galaxy.”
Admiral Amana yawns. “So, what did they want?”
“They wanna nuke it. The whole planet straight to the core.”
I wish it had made me feel something, but it’s nowhere near the most deplorable idea I’ve heard in this room. I finish picking up the grapes, making sure none got into the water, and slowly make my way back to my refuge.
“Hm…” Admiral Karth still sounds like he’s having a bliss. “Doc had some new weapons he wanted to test. Let’s unleash her on the planet. If she’s right this time, imagine how much money we can make!”
“Sound good.” Admiral Garza’s mouth is full of something as she speaks.
“Good? That’s great!” Admiral Idriss exclaims again. Luckily, this time she doesn’t scatter anything across the floor.
I finally reach safety and get to my feet.
Someone strong grabs me from behind and puts their hand on my face. I try to shake off the joker quietly, but then I see a big man in simple clothes, not the white toga of a servant, holding Anya the same way. My heart begins to race. We try to shake off the attackers in unison. We try to yell, but it’s all for nothing.
Who are they? Where are the rest of the servants? What do they— Oh, fuck!
A dark, amorphous blob on the floor, its surface shimmering and reflecting light, makes its way towards us. It moves closer to Anya, and then starts making its way up her body. Horrified, she frantically tries to get away, twisting her whole frame, but the huge alien holding her makes it impossible.
I’m almost hyperventilating through the fingers of the person who holds me. Lightness in the head tells me I’m about to faint. The blob breaks apart into tiny insectoids as they make their way up and under her snow-white toga, and then into her mouth. She clenches her teeth, but the tiny insects make their way in through her nostrils.
I’m next!
The mass of tiny monsters already almost touches my bare feet.
The intruder no longer holds Anya. She straightens up, stretches her joints and limbs, getting used to them, and then looks at me. There’s no fear and no attempt to run away. If Anya I know is still there, she’s not in control of her own body. Instead, the emotion of those green eyes is curiosity mixed with something intense. Soon, my eyes would look the same.
The insectoids make their way up my toga…
Would that be so bad?
The creatures make their way underneath it. Their sharp legs pierce my nerve endings…
Whoever these aliens are, they’re clearly against the admirals. Maybe they’ll kill them, perhaps they’ll control their bodies, but something will change around here. The future will happen only when the admirals are no more. Not every change is for the better, but that’s here and now, whereas the long-term changes will be different. The slow poison of corruption and the near-absolute power of the admirals will be no more. Not that many things in the galaxy are worse than the admirals; therefore, almost everything is better than them.
Tears are running down my cheeks. The tiny monsters are making their way up my neck…
Right now, I’m no one. But if my body can help these aliens change the world…
I relax my body and open my mouth wide.
The sense of overwhelming pressure fills my every orifice, but there’s no pain. The whole world gets swallowed by darkness, but a new presence takes hold in my mind. A calming, strong, purposeful presence.
“Thank you,” a new voice in my head says.
“I hope you’ll make a better use of my body than I ever did.”
~*~
The intercom chimes, and the door of the lab opens before I can walk to it and let the newcomer in.
“Oh, Admiral Karth!” I freeze in place, looking at the gray-skinned, wide-shouldered example of a man in a blood-red uniform.
“At ease, Doc.” Says the boomy, commanding voice. “I’m here to see the new toys you have.”
As the excitement overflows me, I collect my overly long hair in a quick bun, clean my hands against the coffee-stained lab coat, and start the excursion. My lab colleagues seem to prefer to scatter to their work benches and make it look like they never saw the Admiral come in.
No joy lights up his face as I show him my new plasma shotgun, acid grenades, cryo rockets, or crystal combat knives.
“What’s that?” He asks, pointing at Reveal-O-Tron 3000.
“Oh, this…” I grab the small instrument with its two long antennas and start setting the parameters using a rather small touchscreen. “It shows when a person is abducted by certain types of parasitic (and sometimes benign) aliens. Your species is called the calimari, so I just need to punch it in…”
It looks like Admiral tries to back down in fear, but I already point the antennas at him and push the button.
The screen turns red.
“Code red, code red!” With a racing heart, I jump across the table and open the first drawer.
“Hey, Doc, your thing is clearly malfunctioning!” The impostor’s voice reaches my ears.
I grab the plasma shotgun from the drawer and load it. “My creations never do that!” I yell, popping out of my cover and pulling the trigger.
The creachings of pain all but rip apart my eardrums as Admiral’s guts and brains scatter across the lab. But through the red mist, I can see a pool of dark, small, insect-like creatures. I pull the trigger again, but they’re already gone under the tables and racks of equipment.
The intercom chimes again, and a squad of soldiers rushes in. I almost stand up fully to talk to them, but they all aim at me. I duck. A volley of shots pierces the air, turning the light walls of the lab red with the blood of my colleagues. Deaf, with bleeding ears, I look around, dive into another drawer, pull out an acid grenade, and toss it toward the soldiers without looking.
The room shakes. I jolt toward the next cover and grab the rail assault rifle.
Nothing happens.
I carefully peek above the bench.
Yellow fumes of melting equipment, walls, and flesh are all I can see. There’s no movement.
It can’t be that easy. If those are insects, then…
I rush across the long lab past the corpses of my colleagues, yanking a severed hand from one of them, past the destruction, and stop at the very end, panting. There are two huge safes here. I need what’s in one of them.
The door on the other side opens again.
“There’s nowhere to run, Doc.” The fake Admiral Idriss yells across the room. She holds a transparent shield in front of her, and I know my rifle won’t beat it.
My hand touches one fingerprint pad while the severed hand touches another. The door of the safe opens wide, revealing my magnum opus. I rush in and power on the huge, complex device.
“Come with us willingly, Doc, and it won’t hurt at all.” The calm voice is now closer.
I turn towards her (him? it?), keeping my finger a hair above the big, red button. The LEDs on the machine glow as they should. The humming coming from it sounds correct. It will work!
“What’s that machine?” Now, Idriss’s voice sounds concerned.
“Ha! I know about creatures like you.” Feeling high, I point my finger at her. “My creation will kill all insects within a 100-kilometer radius! It will be so painful for you and so very sweet for me.”
“Wait!”
My finger beats the resistance of the spring.
BZUM!
A flash of overwhelming white light and heat blinds me, but soon, I can see again, and my eyes are wide in terror.
Admiral Idriss stands as tall and strong as ever. She examines her body first with fear, then with curiosity, and then faces me. A sinister smile plays on her red lips and in her blue eyes. A new squad of soldiers comes into the lab, aiming at me.
Her lips move. “It’s a good thing we only look like something insect-ish. Right, Doc?”
~*~
The painfully slow trip is finally coming to an end. Captain Derek Steeljaw steers his escape pod towards the nearest docking port of the Admiralty. He’ll show those alien fuckers how to steal his frigate and kill his people! He’ll mount a counteroffensive, impress the admirals, and take his rightful place among them.
The airlock opens, and he steps out.
“Welcome, Captain Steeljaw!”
The greeting party is a three-meter-tall creature unlike any he’s ever seen. Her skin ripples like the surface of water, as if some forces or creatures are trapped beneath. Her eyes are black, soulless, and devoid of life. Her six arms are outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Her tits are so great that he’d take care of them immediately if not for his pressing matter.
“Welcome to my Admiralty, dear Derek.”
A few more creatures appear, all looking similar to this woman, yet none is nearly as fierce and majestic as she is.
“Sweet gunpowder, you’re ugly!” He exclaims. “Whatever. Show me the way to the admirals! I have an urgent matter to discuss with them.”
End of Part IV
Anton Anderson, 2025
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