Chapter 17: Chapter 16 - Perched, and Sat, and Nothing More.

That evening,

Noisemaker coiled serpentine across the boughs that bent over the remains of the nest, devoured by a pack of twelve little Noisemakers, who were like fatty pythons on gelatinous legs, translucent brown flesh undulating up and across the crystalline nest as they consumed it for later use. They looked as Noisemaker looked a week ago, prior to the hardening of chitinous bands along the back of the creature, although their underside still revealed wobbling blubber. They sighed, wondering at how they managed to manifest such an enormity of walls and domes, given their children’s incapability to stomach the quantity. It took thirteen of the “engineers”, as Leader called their genus, to stomach what just one had produced. Now everyone slept in the sleeping pit, again, but without the hive-covering, the pit had returned to its original form, a hole in the ground, dug out by Arms. It was barely big enough to fit Arms alone, Wings’ body alone remained in the hole, beak gnawing on Arms’ broad, flat tail.

Antennae wobbled in the direction of a soft blue-white light, unmistakeable. ‘What keeps you awake?’

‘I don’t need rest like the others do. And it’s my responsibility to consider how we’re getting out of this mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.’

‘Exasperation.’ Emitted Noisemaker. ‘My head is burning like a bruise.’

‘Mine too.’ Leader looked at their feet, drawing circles in the dirt with their stick, they motioned Noisemaker to climb down from the tree. Noisemaker remained.

‘You felt that? Something off in the distance? The headache?’

‘I did.’ Leader waggled their hand at a branch, it bent to the ground for the creature to climb it, and be equal to Noisemaker in elevation. ‘But it didn’t wake the other two.’

‘That is visibly true.’ Noisemaker pointed their antennae upwards and around, unsheathing two limbs tipped with frilled-pads out from their mouth which wafted the air. ‘Do you smell that?’

Leader took the moment to puff their scientific knowledge. ‘Hints of.. Ozone? Petroleum? Burning Plastic?’

‘Exasperation.’

‘Don’t be annoying.’ The blue bug perked up, holding their stick like a spear, ‘What is that?’

‘It could be humans, no? We should get moving. Wake the others.’

Leader shrugged with one shoulder, eyes glowing white. ‘You have blood on your lip.’

‘Oh,’ and Noisemaker wiped themself clean, descending the tree. Arms shuddered at Noisemaker clawing their armour-plates, a baker’s dozen purple eyes unfurling from their pockets. “What’s going on?” the goliath lurched onto its arms, waggled its stubby tail, dripping with low-grade acid. It looked up. “The green moons, look,” they said, pointing with a pick-like finger at the little cluster of ten green lights in the sky, like slightly bright stars. ‘Arms, we need to start moving, humans are coming.’ Arms demeanour became grave, motionless, in a moment their tongue emerged from their gape, wrestling a dog-sized boulder which unfurled into a vaguely ape-shaped creature. “Wake your siblings.” Leader had been wrestling and tugging at Wings’ wings which twitched, sensitive to the little hands upon them, the ‘forager’ was planted into the sleeping-pit with their limbs splayed out into the air, like an enormous spider, outstretched. Leader was prodding them in the eyelids, and sleepily the ball of fluff would toss itself away, even emitting ‘Angry.’ pheromones. Wings’ children woke drowsily, asking in little voices “what’s happeninng.” while buzzing their little wings, floating like tumbleweeds between their elder’s feet. Arms said loudly for all the youths to hear “we’re all moving out,” with a cloud of reassuring ‘:]’ pheromones, “Let’s wake your mother, now.” Wings opened their bulbous eyes, drowsily, obviously still asleep.

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The light of the stars was blocked out by a pillar of bone raised up on mountainous shoulders, as a fist the size of a melon travelled downwards at only the speed air-resistance allowed. Wings dextrously grappled with their steel claws onto the column of an arm above them, clutching onto it arachnid-style. “WHAT!”

‘Shush! Idiot!’ Leader and Noisemaker both stated. The group turned to a sound like a gale of screaming wind rushing through an open window, preceding it was the crackling splintering crumble of timber turned to cinders as an orange glow began. “We’re all going this way,” Arms said, patting the children to move away. The little Armlings moved obediently, steadily and slowly moving with the group, the Winglets and little Noisemakers came to their parents’ feet, pleading with their eyes and smells for some kind of reassurance. ‘Get on my back, we’re going to a safe home.’ The little makers slinked onto their mother’s tail, twenty hips for them to hold onto, and a raised portion of the tail that split into two, like a centipede’s antennae, for the final child to distractedly play with. The Winglets and their parent kept looking back, worriedly, at the growing flame.

Leader glowed fiercely as they directed a force at their feat, a cloud of dust remaining as they bounced up into the tree-line, guiding a tree branch to catch them. It was their turn to be the scout, to move quickly and decisively. They placed a hand against the bark of the tree, felt the wobbling of the branch beneath them, and peered out at the open field beyond the trees, the running river and the city to the right, where the flames had been nursed to a spectacular height, groaning trees losing their strength and falling like crumbling buildings, snapping and showering sparks onto the ground around them with their collapse. The wind changed, the smoke came, sparks and dust flung into the gasping mouths of the mothers, whose children, close to the ground, were not as affected. In the acrid smog pitter-patter sound grew distant, running. Then, a roaring noise came again, a tongue of hot white clouds turning to red fire straight against the trees which caught and ignited for only a few seconds. The figure, producing the fire, sputtered and coughed a final ball of flame, only enough to illuminate their silhouette for Leader to observe. Four arms, tendrils dangling from the head, cloven feet, it was no mistaking it. The rival harvester was here, the enemy was on Kyros.

‘QUICK, ARMS!’ a command pheromone, Arms came rushing to the forest’s edge, where Leader dropped down onto the hulk’s plated back, pointing forth with a blue index finger at the figure, still visible in the smoke. “What is that?”

“Quick! Quick! kill it! Kill it before it breeds!” Leader was shouting into Arms’ face with command pheromones soaking right into the noxious air, and Arms, still sore from a day of butchery, did as told, beginning a slow acceleration forwards. The figure in the smoke swung their head away, lunging into a careful jog, then it moved its face-beak-thing in the direction of Arms and it cawed a horrific noise like a crow’s honk, and it moved into a sprint, but Arms sprinting, lunging, bouncing on all-fours, much faster, even with Leader gripping their shoulders, thrashing wildly like an octopus clinging to a plummeting anchor. Arms made their way against the fire-spewer and found that it hardy, grey creature, metal plates cropping on its smooth skin, and a metal beak.

“KILL IT!” Yelled Leader, barely used vocal chords hoarse. As the running metal man tripped and fell, turning to face an impending meteorite fist, Arms plummeted their arm so that their wrist submerged in the waterlogged soil, with a limb of the monster caught underneath. It was hard, harder than meat, softer than bone, but extremely firm, Arms placed the creature’s head into their enormous hand, then lifted their right arm again, like a blacksmith readying the blade to meet the hammer, Arms drove it down. Halfway between the second strike of the fist a white hot light came hard and fast and unbearably hot like your entire skin pressed against a hot frying pan, for half a second it was unbearable before an invisible force began blocking off the flames, Leader’s glow replacing the orange light of the fire as the jet ceased to exist. But Arms was blinded, putting a hand to their face and the creature began a sprint their hands swinging wildly, their cylindrical flamethrower trailing behind them. Leader lifted one hand up against the distant figure, escaping into the smoke, and a white flash grew underneath the gelatinous mass that sagged atop their head. Attempting to invest as much force as possible, a crushing force, a grappling force, anything.

The figure disappeared into the smog.

A droning sound. Wings. They launched over and met Leader and Arms. “Fuck, are you okay?” They held Arms’ face with their talons. “We have to get away from the smoke! Come on!” They clattered. “Big guy, come on, we’re going this way, take your time, just keep moving.”

‘What the fuck. Leader. Just. Nevermind. We need to get to safety, to the river. We should never have killed those humans. Fuck.’