Alien Hive
Alien Hive
His body provided a subtle warmth - even trembling as it did in his state of near-catatonia. With his breathing shallow and thin - but he willing to respond to my prodding now and then - I was content to leave Hands where he lay - and creep through the blood-marked halls of the once great temple of leanring. The lights above had long since burned out - if not destroyed by those who walked through the halls as I did. The growth of the hive continued - biomass converting easily, as did the heating of the sun across the great dome-like building. There was plenty of meat and food - even enough for Hands to eat, though he protested, now and then. It was unimportant, that he ate was all that mattered.
He had a purpose that his death could not fill.
There were places I could not get to - doors held the ways hut - the stone too strong to claw through - too hard to break open. Three of the hive had already destroyed themselves attempting these sealed doors - I would not risk more of them. There were other purposes to fill, in the future, and I continued to stalk through the halls. My claws drug across the ground again. I felt familiar furrows left from those who stalked - my digits slid through the slices, feeling dried blood, and the echoes of pain. It was appealing, far more than the bareness that had once been here.
I stalked - the gauntlet completed, and heard the whispers of voice behind walls of metal and stone. I felt them, like so many whispered promises - and I hungered for them, for the use of their life to quench my and my hives hunger. I scratched along the walls and continued along - and returned towards the central chamber.
The hive had grown. I walked across the bodies that had fallen - and partially devoured. I was hungry, I was always hungry as of late. Passing two of the hive mates, I crept into the central chamber, where it was open, and fell upon Hands as he lay, staring blankly into the flickering darkness.
I did not devour him, though he made me hungry. I did not slice him, though my hands gripped and pulled him up. I straddled his body, exceedingly careful to not shatter his legs or hips - and stared - reveling in the power, in the control I had over him. He whimpered, he gargled my name, and looked up with a painful tremble. I could smell blood - and he stroked his hand over my carapace once - the streak of blood showing from the two stumps of two missing fingers of his left hand. He had bandaged them with the tatters of his shirt. He devoted to me, his eyes fearful and worshiping, unworried of what agony must have been blooming from his limb. I was pleased with him.
I was angry with whom had attacked what was mine.
Certainly, two fingers was a small price, that he breathed a miracle, but what was mine, was mine - and I was not going to give up easily what was mine by force and will and pain. I touched his face and stroked the healing scar upon his cheek, and drew him to me, to rest against me. He was warm, and I was hot - he was mine, to do with as I pleased, and to do with as I desired. I desired him to remain - as a reward, for what he had done for me as before.
The meats. His flesh had been sweet, and I always could have struck for his hand, but I had waited. He brought the meats to me religiously - always at the same time, and always set them through a slot on the stone-temple door. These gifts sated my hunger, kept me sane, helped me survive the lessons and teachings.
The touch. He had always examined me, once per week, with the same care that I showed him now. The touches were firm, but careful - the strokes were soft, the pressing of digits to chitin, to hide, to slit, were always with respect. He had tempted me once by touching my jaw - and it was every ounce of willpower to not have removed his hand for his insolence, but I had waited. He had grown worshipful of me - his touches over my spines were methodical, feeling for looseness. Up, to the crown of my crest.and over the three points.
The words. I would not speak - my throat was built to devour meat, not to make pretty sounds. And he could make the most delightful sounds. When I touched his throat, he whimpered, when my claws tended the scratch on his face, he moaned. To caress his belly with my jaws always gave gurgles, and when he gave off short spoken words, they were praises. I valued this of him - to make those wonderful, musical sounds. And his breathing was reward, as was the meat, the touches, the comfort of remaining alive as the hive grew.
As my hive grew.
I drew Hands up and rose from straddling him, to pull him up to his feet, with me. He was able to stand after a woozy moment. He followed as I crept forward, at a slow pace - and lead him into a deeper realm of the temple, to a chamber larger, deeper into the bowels of the temple of learning. He followed behind me, keeping to the side of my long sweeping tail. He kept close, even as he trembled. I took him away from the rest, that it might not be a temptation to the hive. To my hive.
He followed close behind me, his bloodied hand coming to rest on my back, against one of the spines and holding it with his good fingers. He was careful, as he ever was, and let me guide him, into the deepest dark, where the hive had not yet grown. My bretheren did not follow, though my scent-trail lead them as clearly as the scent of blood lead me. I passed a gutted door, and followed lower - into a place of heat. I savored it, much hotter, drier than up above - and I knew we were below ground, perhaps two hundred feet from where the hive was.
And then I found what I sought - a flow of water from broken pipes and a pleasant heat that wrapped around me. The ambience would help the expansion, the water would feed the eventual needs of the hive. It was open, clear, with a high ceiling crossing with pipes, and where I could ascend if I needed. I drew my claws across another pipe, and felt it hum with geothermic energy. I gnashed my teeth together, and turned, wrapping myself around Hands.
"It's warm." He said, while I squeezed him against me. My instincts told me this place was perfect, warm, wet, and soothing in the soft pings, pops, and whispers of metal cracking and popping. A soft ting came through a thin wall. I reached out and rapped it once with my claw, the metal rang for the effort. "I know your kind like the warmth."
He was correct, of course. The warmth soothed me - and I slid into the darkness, feeling it brood around me, feeling the thoughts, the voices of the blood caressing through my thoughts. I heard the whispers, and the warmth of the hive as it grew - slowly, irrepressibly onwards, towards me, to join with me, towards me in a slow, inexorable march of growth and life and a promise of spilled ichors. I pulled at the thoughts - and felt them all as a whisper edge all through me.
The whisper rose up slowly - the whisper grew to a murmur, a snarl, a roar. The sound echoed through me, the jumbled senses and thoughts of the entire hive, before it slid into place - and I felt the over washing presence of the whole around me. I was one, and felt completed - and felt the fragile sense of self threaten to dissolve, if I was not careful. The hive was safe, and wider than I had thought. The growing continued, though there were only twenty of us. There was a need for a Praetorian, and more than that, the need for Her, to help the hive become greater in population.
I felt hands beside me, laying against my form - I felt his heart beating, and it was comforting, giving me an anchor for my mind. The beating echoed through the hive - and they felt, as I did. He was ine, and mine alone to deal with. I searched through the feelings of ascent, felt the minds who would never disobey - and came upon the other side, the opposition who grew to threaten me. I felt the hive shudder - as she snarled, and tried to force me from the hive. The challenger had been longer at this than I had - and I felt myself slipping.
Challenger began to gloat - posture across the hive turning to her favor. But in this, she made her flaw. As I slid back into the sense of self alone - with Hands touching my spine, she had told me who had harmed what was mine. And in the darkness, I held a crooked grin, even as my crest began to ache.
The hive would not respond to me - I could not join the thoughts, after my limited experience. I reached, and struggled and fought - but like meat hanging too high, was denied to me. And like meat, too high, I knew I had to ascend and take it, even if I was forced to climb the walls and descend from above. It was with this thought, that I unwound myself from Hands, and began to climb - pulling myself up towards the central vents which ran through the great complex, and slowly crept forward, into the dark metal shaft. My claws scratched but held, and I pulled myself through, even as tight as it was. Old bits of my chitin scraped off, leaving behind a hiss of metal from the specks of blood. I paid it no heed - I could feel the pain later.
The junction shifted left and right - and left I went, feeling the air flowing from that direction. The great central chamber would lay where the wind flowed from - as the vents had spoken of a place higher, where it all came from. I ascended up - and into a small service chamber, the lights above gmaking my hide gleam. Bodies lay there, their chests having been exploded outwards in a manner painful and violent. I passed it by after only a moment, my tail blade prodding the corpses in passing. Not too far dead, as a hint of heat remained. I continued, until bumping into a door, shut, locked, and made of thick steel. I growled in frustration, while gripping the wheel that held it locked, and began to twist it. TO little effect, despite my considerable strength, it did not move, budge, or even show protest.
The hinges were too strong for me to burn through them, even if I opened my arm - and the design of the door promised that I could not fight through it, even if I rushed it a hundred times. My head ached, from knowing the architecture. Slid a claw across a small hole in the center of the wheel mechanism, and felt the subtle indention. It required another part, the crafty buggers.
A jingle of metal made me freeze, and my tail whipped backwards, instinct telling of something behind me. A yelp and tumble gave me time to turn - before the unwashed scent of Hands arose, a wafting presence that I could trust. He had been quiet, approaching behind me - and the scent of exhaustion was about me - but the scent of copper and metal came from a ring of metal he held. He lifted it, giving it a jingle, then came closer - towards the door.
"Need the keys." He stood, and inserted bits of the metal into the hole - twisted - and then grabbed the wheel of the door. I joined him, and turned it - in the direction he indicated. It groaned once, and the air whistled, pressure changing between outside and in - and the door was forced open. I pushed it, letting it swing out with a loud THUD, and basked in victory.
Winds howled outside, like the moans of ancient gods. The great hissing whispers and the overt pressure told me this was a world not meant to be walked on by lesser people - and hands was quick to don a suit with the presence of the great storm. Rain pelted me, each a jagged pain - for it was bitterly cold, and made me shudder. Pulling myself high, I climbed along a steady route up - and ascended higher, towards the central point overlooking the great temple which I had never once bee outside of. My flanks settled against the freezing metal. The scent of life flowed everywhere, even in the hurricane gale. The jungle which surrounded the temple was vast, and the sparks of lightning about did little to cease my wonder. Hands ascended with me - by holding onto my tail and trying not to be a burden.
The world was tremendously large - the atmosphere telling of old dust in the heavens. The scent of life permeated, of prey that would be more enjoyable to hunt - and a colony of people some thirty kilometers distant. Perhaps for their own good, I did not leave the temple to pursue them - I had a threat bigger to worry about. I climbed higher - towards the beeping antennae, and reached out to grasp it with a hand. The metal pole wobbled from the force of the wind, and the cables that kept it in place were strained. Even I was forced to hold on after a particularly hard gust - and grab onto Hands, to keep him from being blown free. He was positively thankful for the rescue.
At the base of the antennae, I found another hatch - which hands was quick to open, once the wind lifted for a few moments. The hatch flew open and he descended down, and I closed it behind him - sealing it, after slashing at the lock. I did not wish him to follow me into a more dangerous territory - he was safer in the higher point of the tower. The hive had not gotten that far, nor had the hive begun the deep searches.
I ignored his protests. I ignored the imploring gaze he gave me when I forced him down, and slammed the lid. I did not pay attention to the thumps of his fists against the metal or shouts that he could help me, his cries of my name. I squelched the feeling of him at the edges of my mind, like a hive of two. And, hardest of all, I quashed the fear of his safety.
He was not one of the hive. I did not care.
He was not one of the hive. I was confused why I felt pangs of guilt at leaving him.
He was not one of the hive. I held this thought, even as I stared longingly at the hatch, wanting nothing more than to draw along what was mine. Even into the maw of hell, unto the force that had slain gods, I wanted to take what was mine, He would be useless, in what was to come. Pointless, in the over-arching scheme of things. He held no intrinsic value, except as walking meat and a source of warmth. He was not one of the hive.
Why was I concerned?
These feelings left after the next gust of wind made me scramble for purchase, and then begin the long descent. The outside of the building was surprisingly simple, a simple dome with layers jutting out - and a great window, which I avoided. I was not ready for my entrance yet, even as I scouted for the best place to make my way in. I crept slowly over the outer bulk, and found another hatch. Locked, but it `helped me plot. A vent was beside it, but a moment later it was shredded open and I slid my body through - the tight squeeze making me hiss, but it was comfortable, all said and done. It meant I didn't have to worry about attacks from above.
Of course, the praetorian beneath me didn't have that privilege. He was beautiful, the long, sleek form gliding through the ruins of the temple. He moved with a subtle grace that stirred inside of me, and yet the sense of wrongness crept through me - and I slowly slid my form from the shattered vent, and crept along the ceiling directly overhead him. My tail arched and tucked - I slowly lowered myself down and dropped, following behind the male with a hiss.
I could admire the strength of his thighs, the length of the small crest at the back of his skull. The tail was thick at the root, and slender at the tip, where the blade drew out as the scent of prey in the dark. His spine was narrow, and the flow of his figure pleased my senses, and made he draw closer to him, even with the danger.
He knew I was there, after a moment - the smell of Hands blending with the rush of my musky pheromones. He knew I was there, as he lead me from the hive, to a chamber quiet, where the growth of the hive would not touch for many days. He drew me away, and turned to behold me - to stare upon me without eyes. His jaw parted with an excited click, his tail raised up along his back, a threat, a warning, a challenge, and a promise. He was smaller than me, I was growing larger at a steady rate - the feedings having fed and fueled the sudden burst. He was smaller than me, his crest not early as advanced, but he was a challenge.
A challenge I reveled in. My tail struck first and the light stopped gleaming across the sleek ebon form, as we plunged into the darkness of shattering glass. The rain pelted the thin barrier between outside and in, the chamber built for observing the world beyond the temple. The sky lit itself as we danced - I circling him, he circling me, our bodies brushing, but not quite touching. We circled in the ruined temple, my tail slamming into the glass to crack and shatter it - the howl of wind blowing through the chamber, the chill of cold and sting of rain making things feel hotter. It was wild, as we were meant. It was dangerous, as we lived. It was perfect.
It was perfect, when he pinned my tail, and proclaimed his loyalty to me, and acknowledged me the rightful mistress of the hive.
After a time, we disentangled, my tail covering down, and my belly warm. He understood what would come of such an encounter, what was a threat to the hive he had become, even as I felt him at the corner of my mind. She was livid, and it was time for us to flee. All instincts spoke of fleeing the temple, of leaving the presence of the hive. I had stolen her consort, the massive male I had encountered first when escaping the chamber that held me. He stuck behind me, following, coveirng my flanks as he had done many times not too long ago. I crept with him outside the temple, up through the slick rain and wind and lightning flecked evening - and approached the hatch that had held Hands. It was time for us to leave, to grow in strength and reclaim this place, to take what had been mine through pain and rights of the whole.
Time would provide that weapon - and I approached the hatch, and with the help of the Consort, I gripped the sealed hatch and twisted, tearing the metal and creating a hole for the quivering form of Hands to look up, and see with wonder and fear what was above him. I was hungry, but I was always hungry. Hands gazed, his body shivering, but he reached out for me, the three-fingered hand coming to touch my face. The Consort did not care for it and hissed, but knew not to strike the one I had claimed.
"Emm. Zee, you found Emm. He's..."
He knew. He didn't need to say more. I pulled him up with a wrap of my tail, avoiding bisecting his larynx with my throat, and began to descend the temple - the slickness making the climb difficult, but no worse than it had been before. Hands clutched on for dear life - what little he might have.
The descent took us to the base, a fifteen foot drop cracked the ground and sent pain up my thighs, but the form of Consort helped me focus. We crept forward, exposed by the ten meter radius around the temple, and approached the barbed fences. The power did not work to them, as I gripped and felt only a mild tingle. I tore through the fence and let the other tow follow, as I crept from the ruins, towards the jungle - towards the faint, distant scent of more prey.
I suppose the challenger had made it a blessing. For I understood why instincts told me not to stay and fight, but to creep out. Signs of prey were everywhere, prey that would continue the cycle, as the eggs grew in my belly. I would need shelter, I would require sustenance leeched from the earnthen floor, from the trace minerals, from the spilled blood. And most importantly...
My many, many young would need hosts...