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The Catacombs

Pathos – Location unknown. Do not approach under any circumstances. Unpredictable.

Logos – Location almost certain to be in the hands of the serpents or gave them hands. To be destroyed.

Ethos – Location unknown. Report to CO if found, do not engage it in conversation no matter how convincing it might be.

-Leaked Dossier from the Regulian Records Ministry. Exact meaning unknown.

Whatever thrill there had been in the adventure had been struck dead by the events in that meadow not far from Rust. We had faced many dangers, distant and close, but none were as close as the cerulean lizard behind the wheel of my Hauler. Both of our eyes were locked on him, mine and Dondrae's, as we sat in the flatbed, holding onto the rim as it jumped and rumbled over stone and dirt. Yaleen was riding shotgun unwillingly. Occasionally we would catch her narrow, vulpine muzzle dart to the left, scanning the Lacertan for any signs of weakness.

There were three of us and we couldn't take him down. My intimate discussion with Dondrae that fateful night had conjured up a lot of creative executions, our favorite of which involved quick-drawing my pistol and shooting the hateful lizard in the eye. The positive side of this approach was that Lazsh never took our guns away and we could do this if we wanted. But then there was the negative: Lazsh never took our guns away. He was a feral beast, a monstrous dragon, but he was not stupid. He wouldn't have left them in our hands if he feared them and this made our plans hit a wall.

Our fears became more certain when we started noticing a peculiar habit of Lazsh that went unnoticed until now, now that our attention never left him: every night, he would turn on the radio transmitter in the Hauler, tune it, and tap a complex pattern against it with his claws. He must have been checking in with Sirth. We tried to memorize the pattern, but it seemed to change each time he did it. If we killed him, we could expect it to be known by Sirth in less than a day.

Worse yet, we found we could not discuss our plans at night. Sleep came to us very quickly after dinner and I feared that Lazsh was drugging our food. It wouldn't be hard for him to spoil the cooking pot, even his saliva was a tranquilizer. I didn't tell Donrdae about this, I was afraid he would fall into a rage and attack the lizard.

Wordlessly, me and that handsome Lupiad mutt, Dondrae; decided to put our plans on hold. Our hands would never be far from our weapons, but we wouldn't take aim just yet, not until we were done with the Catacombs. We couldn't trust him, but we couldn't get rid of him. I tried to keep myself cool, but my stomach was rotten with worried pain that even laying in Dondrae's strong arms couldn't alleviate.

Against all odds, we managed a safe journey from Rust. Lazsh had the map gripped in his free hand, claws just about piercing the delicate paper it was drawn on, and navigated the Hauler past countless scavengers with an assortment of vehicles and weapons. We skirmished a few times, but no more than a few bullets were shot before we were gone and they never made chase.

The vast hills of the Catacombs were visible from far off. Despite the age of them, they were a sharp mass of brown dirt that grew no grass or plants, despite being surrounded by dry grasslands; and stone, with some sections shooting up into the sky like a needle and others forming perfectly round domes. This went on across the horizon in an almost perfect line, save for some sections jutting out south and forming yet another section of the maze. Even on the surface, far above the Catacombs beneath Planet's surface, it was a labyrinth.

Fittingly, I took a nap and dreamed that I was a small child back home in Poland. I got separated from my parents in the woods while picking mushrooms and got lost. The trees all looked the same and I cried, looking for a way out…

I awoke to find the Hauler rumbling to a halt in front of a pile of rocks camoflauged against the dry, brown soil of the steep hills in front of us. I jumped up startled, there was nothing here, nothing except a pile of rocks.

My hand went to my holster.

“Gonna blow it up?" Lazsh suddenly whispered in a hoarse rasp.

“What?"

He turned back to face me, sunlight glistening on the horn on the tip of his nose. He gestured to the Lacertan writing on the map.

“They buried the tunnel to hide it."

Dondrae sighed in relief and released his grip on his rifle.

“Kurwa..." I hissed, letting go of the holster. Sweat was pouring down my brow like a waterfall. I wiped my forehead and raised my voice, responding to Lazsh, “I only have a few grenades, not strong enough to clear that."

Lazsh snorted, waving towards the pile of rocks commandingly.

“Then you'd better start digging."

To my surprise, he motioned for Yaleen to join us and she did not hesitate for a second, popping open the passenger door and leaping out. She grabbed a trio of old shovels from the back of the truck and took them to us, her tail, so neat and expressive before, now as bland and stiff as the brown suit she wore over her entire body.

Dondrae's long, pink tongue hung out of his mouth as he panted, staring up at the blazing, white-hot sun. He lazily grabbed the shovel from Yaleen, “Don't know how you can stand wearing all that shit," he said to the Vulpeculan.

“If I wasn't the only female on Planet, I wouldn't."

Yaleen thrust the last shovel at my chest and I shakily took it. Her green eyes flashed with blind anger, followed by her staring off to the side aimlessly.

“Yaleen," I whispered, peering back at the Hauler. Lazsh was now sitting on the hood, caressing his massive, powerful pistol, “He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Her ears perked up and she nervously glanced back at the blue lizard before she whispered back to me, “No. He held me close each night, but he didn't do anything besides that. If it weren't for the fact that he fucked you, I'd imagine he didn't have a libido at all."

Dondrae's mouth frowned and his icy blue eyes stared at me, disappointment in them, “You fucked him?"

“He fucked me," I muttered, making sure Lazsh was not listening, a difficult thing to observe on a creature with no ears, before continuing lowly, “And it was the most miserable sex I've ever had. Powerful, but emotionally dead..."

He tilted his head and licked at his black jowls, “But why him?"

“Hey," I put the shovel aside and stepped towards the Lupiad-Sirian hybrid, reaching up and putting my palm on his gray-furred shoulder. At some point, Dondrae had taken off his shirt and his strong, hairy chest was on full display for all to see, “It was some stupid bet. It didn't mean anything."

Dondrae shook his head and laughed heartily, but with some nervous uncertaintly behind it, “Of course! Sorry, that was dumb of me! I don't know what I was…"

I stopped him, reaching behind his pointed ear and scratching the base of it. His smile grew and his eyes closed with pleasure. His tongue lolled out as far as it could, just about far enough that it could reach his chest without any assistance. Without any warning, he lunged his face forward and gave me a sloppy kiss across the face with his tongue.

“Dog breath! Gross!" I laughed, but didn't stop him from showing his affection.

“The hell's a dog?" he paused his kisses, grabbing me by the back of my shaved head and rubbing his muzzle against my cheek.

“Uh, I told you about wolves, right?" Dondrae nodded, “Well, they're kind of like domesticated wolves. Come in more shapes, sizes, and colors."

“And their breath…?"

I laughed, “Well, in this case, it smells like old, tinned meat!"

I pressed my lips to his, licking the tip of his muzzle, his salty fur and his wet nose, and then I stuck my tongue past his lips. My heart was racing, my love for him was still young, but strong, even if his breath smelled like salted pork right now!

A loud pop burst out in the air and we broke away, immediately darting to the source of it. Lazsh was pointing his gun up in the air, smoke trailing out of it. He leered at us with his blue eyes, similar in color to Dondraes but far colder.

“Get back to work."

It was rough work, picking away at the solid barrier of rock. The shovels were not the right tool for the job, but we had to break apart the stones before we could remove them and they were the only tools we had. It didn't take long before mine felt like it was about to snap and I began to hold back my thrusts, daintily picking away and sending out tiny puffs of dust.

Dondrae and Yaleen weren't moving any faster. Dondrae began by shoveling as hard as he could, but his shovel soon began to bend at a very disturbing angle and he quickly become more gentle. Yaleen, on the other hand, having clearly never been accustomed to labor, had only carefully and deliberately picked at the rubble like an artist carefully chiseling a masterwork.

If you wish to move a mountain, you must first begin by lifting the stones.

Someone said something like that long ago, can't remember who. I doubt whoever it was would be as patient if he saw how slow we were moving.

A sharp shadow cast over the workplace as the sun set behind the needle jetting out into the sky, dividing the workplace into two bright, equally large areas. Soon, the sun fell behind the mountains entirely and we were engulfed in darkness.

Lazsh called for an end to today's work and without a moment's hesitation, Dondrae and Yaleen began piling firewood in a circle of stones, working in the near-pitch darkness without any difficulty. With my human eyes rendering me nearly blind, I flicked on the flashlight tucked away in my chest pocket and joined to help them, their pupils flickering blue and green in the dark like wild animals lurking in the bushes.

I tossed a lighter tablet among the tinder and Dondrae finished the job by flicking a lit match. The white tablet ignited instantly and the tinder quickly joined it, spreading to the kindling. It wasn't long before we had a roaring fire.

We sat around it, heating up canned meat and beans over the bonfire and eating them in complete silence, much like so man other nights before that since Lazsh showed his true colors. It was only fitting that Lazsh was the sole person to break the silence.

“Need to make better progress..."

The muttered threat echoed through the camp. I swallowed a lump in my throat and looked at my companions. Both of them were stone-faced, but their black noses were twitching, scanning the scent and mood of the camp and no doubt finding nothing but anxiety.

We laid down to bed soon after, Lazsh taking Yaleen by his side once more and Dondrae taking me in his arms. We whispered lowly to each other, trying to come up with a plan to appease Lazsh and make the work go faster.

But we thought of nothing.

I gotta do this.

Please, don't!

I gotta join up!

Don't!

There's no work here! I have to, for us!

What if you run into him?

I'll swallow and salute. For us.

That's a lie. I'm sorry.

Please, don't go…

I kissed the raven-haired girl on the cheek and left the house.

I marched off to war.

We woke up as soon as the sun peeked gently over the horizon. Woke up, being a relative term, as neither myself nor Dondrae slept well, and I doubt Yaleen did any better. Lazsh was already up, the Hauler radio crackling violently as he tapped his code into the transmitter.

He began to lower the transmitter when a voice suddenly barked on the receiver. It was mangled by static but it was clearly speaking Lupus. Lazsh turned on the transmitter and hissed something in Lacertan, followed by Regulian:

“Who are you? Identify yourself!"

A crackle of static almost masked the reply, once again in Lupus.

“Lazsh," I came up beside the driver's seat, the Lacertan craning his head and glaring at me with his cold eyes, “He's speaking Lupus. Dondrae can..."

“Lupiad!" Lazsh snapped his neck back and shouted at Dondrae, who was milling about near the flatbed. “Get over here!"

Dondrae came over and hopped into the passenger seat. Lazsh pounded his scaly hand against Dondrae's chest and passed him the transmitter.

“Speak to them. Translate."

Dondrae lifted the transmitter to his mouth and hesitated, ears curling back, before he finally spoke something calm and pleasant-sounding in the otherwise harsh and guttural language that Lupus was.

He received an immediate response, still riddled with static, but Dondrae understood, his ears perking up. He brought the transmitter down to his lap and turned it off.

“They've spotted us a distance away and are asking about us," Dondrae said, “They want to know if they can join us."

“How many?" Lazsh hissed.

Speaking once again into the transmitter, the broadcasters replied and exchanged a series of casual messages with Dondrae. Lazsh showed no expression, as usual, but I sensed he was growing a little uneasy with the stream of words that he could not understand. I was too, I hated to admit it. I trusted Dondrae, but part of me worried that he was talking with survivors of his pack and concocting a scheme with them. Before any of us could express our concerns, Dondrae finally translated:

“There's only two of them. They'd like to meet with us and trade."

“Do they have explosives?" I butted in.

“Quiet!" Lazsh smothered my mouth with the palm of his hand. His scales were rough on the lips as they squeezed. Despite this, Lazsh assented to my suggestion and ordered Dondrae to reply.

Lazsh released his grip on my mouth and grabbed a pair of binoculars, peering off onto the horizon as Dondrae chatted with them.

“Couldn't have followed us..." Lazsh muttered, “I made sure of it..."

“Sometimes you can do everything right and still have something go wrong," I said, “I'm pretty sure Chik spread the rumors that led to the new rush for the Catacombs."

“We've heard many broadcasts and none mentioned this site."

“It's a possibility, just saying."

“Pawel, promise me," Lazsh paused, locking his binoculars onto a spot on the horizon, “If I take you back to Sirth, pleasure him greatly. Pleasure him greatly so that he won't miss that ring-tailed shit-stain after I drown him."

Was this another attempt at Lacertan humor or was he serious? I couldn't help but laugh slightly regardless. His attempts at humor were always morbid and rough to hear, but hearing him now, I kind of missed the old Lazsh who would tell horrible jokes and considered declaring, “We will fuck," to be pillow talk.

“I see them driving towards us," Lazsh muttered and adjusted the zoom on the binoculars, “One driving, Lupiad. Looks like the other is laying in the back, injured or sleeping. Take positions, just in case."

I relayed the order to Yaleen, who grabbed her rifle after looking to Lazsh and receiving a nod of approval, and she layed down in the flatbed, behind a thick crate of supplies. She gently loaded up the magazine with bullets. I checked my pistol to make sure it was ready and shoved two slugs into my shotgun, hunkering down in the cool dirt behind the truck.

Dondrae, on the other hand, had his jaw hanging open wide in barking laughter as he exchanged incomprehensible jokes in a cryptic language. At one point he even howled, to which we received a reply on the horizon: a distant whisper of a joyous howl.

“He has explosives and is willing to trade! Great guy, you wouldn't believe the joke he told me..."

Lazsh withdrew his heavy pistol from its holster, cocking it and keeping it at his side, “They can come. Be wary."

The Lupiad-Sirian continued to chat with the Lupiad on the radio, laughing the whole way. Whoever it was, clearly he had made a new friend in them.

A cloud of dust kicked up in the distance down the valley we came down yesterday and their truck came into view. A Lupiad was hanging outside the driver's window, yip-yipping and howling happily in greeting. I was relieved, it seemed that they were playing honestly and there would be no blood shed today.

Then their truck came to a halt suddenly and the Lupiad ducked back inside. They showed no signs of moving and I couldn't make out what they were doing inside the vehicle. I gulped as I peered back at them, trying to understand their next move.

“What's going on!?" I shouted to Lazsh.

“The driver has a monocular," Lazsh said. I was about to ask if he was sure it was a monocular, as that was a strange choice of equipment, but Lazsh continued, “Teeth are bared."

The radio speakers burst to life with a familiar broken stream of English.

“HUMAN! I FUCK YOU!"

Lazsh screamed an order before I could raise the alert and the Hauler rumbled to life and shot forward, knocking me onto the treads in the dirt behind it. I lifted my head for a brief second, just in time to see the figure of an Equuleian sitting up in the flatbed of the truck and a burst of back-blast from the rocket launcher resting on his shoulder.

I went prone, feeling a sharp gust of wind and heat as the rocket shot over my head, but it was nothing compared to the explosion it made behind me. For a split second, it felt like I was inside an oven and then a rock cracked against the back of my head. I was just about made stupid by that blow and I was out for a few seconds, thank God, thank Planet it was not any longer than that. It was a miracle.

My vision was a mess of sparkling stars and I heard nothing except for a ringing echo. My training took over and I was able to assess the situation: there was no cover and I had no choice but to lie prone in the hopes that they'd ignore me.

Sadly, a tiny ricochet of a bullet across the dirt near my shoulder put an end to such optimism. They knew I was still alive and Wolfy was intent on finishing off his grudge once and for all. My strategy would now change: I was to lie prone and fire madly. I unloaded both barrels at the distant vehicle and then tossed the shotgun away, not having any way of reloading it quickly without raising my head, and grabbed my Glock, firing it without any hope of hitting at such a distance but hoped it would be enough to spook them.

Reality hit Wolfy's truck in the form of automatic gun-fire ricocheting off the side of his door. He turned his attention away from me and leveled a rifle that even from this distance, looked like it was made from ten different rifles cobbled into one rusty abomination; at my Hauler. Despite the appearance of it and his lack of depth perception, Wolfy fired the gun steadily and quickly.

My relief at the attention turning away from me was short-lived. Wolfy's brain soon realized that he could multi-task and his truck rumbled blindly forward at full speed towards my position as he concentrated his fire on the others. The Equuleian, the same one with the brown fur and the white-striped nose from Neilan's camp, began firing at my direction in his partner's stead, thankfully with a rifle and not the rocket launcher from before.

I rolled to the side as fast as I could, the world spinning violently inside my head. I slammed a new magazine into my pistol and fired back, forcing White Stripe to duck behind cover as the truck rolled closer to my original spot.

What I did next was idiotic and desperate. Something I have trouble believing I pulled off even today. I will not blame you if you think it's out of an action movie I saw before my mind-alterations, if only you promise not to ever repeat it.

When the truck passed me, its rubber tires barely missing me, I leaped up and grabbed a handlebar on the side of the truck and swung myself up. Squinting my eyes from the dust kicking into my face, I fired a blind shot into the truck bed at White Stripe and kicked my way through the open window.

My boots met with the back of Wolfy's head and he dropped his rifle out the window with a clatter. The truck violently swerved and Wolfy grabbed the wheel with both paws and quickly maneuvered it back on track. I pointed my Glock at his head, just in time for him to violently turn around, peel back his lips and snap my right hand in a death grip, claws digging bloody holes into the wrist. He then lunged on top of me with white-hot anger in his sole, blood-shot eye.

“PAWEL!" drool dripped from his fangs as he shot his head forward with his maw open.

I did what I always did when cornered by a large alien with a big, stupid nose and swung my free fist at it. Today, I learned what could go wrong with this strategy and my fist connected with the back of Wolfy's mouth. He yelped with pain but quickly chomped his teeth down on my hand as hard as he could.

“KURWA!" I screamed as agony wracked my hands. I struggled to break free, firing the Glock blindly in a panic without any hope of aiming and tried to maneuver my legs to kick him.

Wolfy was enjoying every second of this. His lips curled up in a smile as he looked down at me struggling. He held my hand down with his jaws, his tongue licking up the stream of blood jetting out of my hand before clamping down hard once again. My bones began to creak violently as they grew close to snapping.

But in his enjoyment, he grew careless. I slipped my leg under his chest and kicked forward, launching him back, his fangs shredding what remained of my left hand's skin as he was flung against the driver door, which flew open. Wolfy nearly fell out of the truck, but was able to right himself by grabbing the wheel for balance, dangerously swerving the truck to the left in the process.

Something large fell out of the back of the truck in the struggle and Wolfy's eye shot to it. It was the Equuleian, who hit the dirt with a massive cloud of dust.

Wolfy shrieked at the sight of this and I shot him in the back. This was always hard to do, even for someone like him.

In contrast to his fierce anger that he wore on his sleeve every time I ran into him, his last moments in the truck were silent, solemn, and sad. He quietly gasped and fell limply out of the door.

It was so surprising to see this that I didn't see the mountain wall approaching the truck.

“Pawel! Pawel!"

My eyes opened groggily, my vision showing nothing but a blurry, black thing hovering around my face.

“You're awake! He's awake!"

I was pulled up towards the black thing, finding it to be warm and wet. It began snuffling at me and a long tongue licked at my cheek. Only then did I realize that in addition to slobber, my face was covered in blood.

My vision cleared and I saw Dondrae's face pressed against mine, his eyes shut in relief.

“What happened?" I muttered.

“Keep still! You're..."

I broke free from Dondrae, who gently tried to force me down but was too afraid of hurting me to be effective. Shakily, I brought myself to my feet and looked around

The world was shaking up and down, as if there was an earthquake rumbling across Planet, but I knew it was just my wound. My Hauler was idling nearby with Lazsh watching over us. Noticing we were in the shade, I turned around to see Wolfy's truck turned on its side, black smoke billowing from its engine.

Beyond the truck, I heard the snap of bone, as loud as a shotgun blast, joined by agonized screams. I reached for my pistol, wincing as my bandaged right hand touched it, before snatching it with my comparatively more well-off left hand and stumbled towards the source of the sound.

“Pawel!" Dondrae shouted, “Don't!"

Rounding the corner of the wreck, I saw a wretched scene. White Stripe was laying on his back in the dirt completely still, his skull a mess of broken bone and shredded flesh. His leg was in a split, still injured from our previous meeting and now it would never recover. And Wolfy was inches away from the wreck, clawing and dragging his body towards his fallen comrade with his one remaining arm. A bloody, chewed stump was peeking out from under the fallen flatbed of the truck, crimson blood trailing from it to the Lupiad.

I stared at the dying Lupiad making his final journey, I winced at the sound of his screams, each one growing weaker than the last; but I let him complete it. I let him reach his companion, who he must have been taking care of this whole time, and he wrapped his arm around his neck, nuzzling his nose against the Equuleian, sobbing pitifully the whole time.

Then I shot him and he was still.

There was never any enjoyment in killing people on Planet for me. Wolfy had been a bad person since the moment I met him, when he raped that Sirian long, long ago, but in his last moments, I saw that he had some compassion in him. My mind created justifications, perhaps he was taking advantage of White Stripe in his weakness, but what I saw in his last moments looked to be something genuine.

Perhaps it would have been better to be someone like Lazsh, who could kill an unarmed person without any remorse. I don't know. Sometimes I think it's better to feel remorse. It hurts more at first when you have to do what is necessary, but it helps keep you human, for lack of a better word.

For now, I hurt in more ways than one. My right hand was mangled once again after Wolfy tried to eat it. My left hand was also covered in deep scratches and bandaged up, but I was able to move it without much issue. Most disturbing of all was my head, which had a bandana of gauze wrapped around the crown of it, soaked with blood.

Dondrae was examining my body when Lazsh lumbered towards us, gun in hand and tail whipping angrily against the dirt.

“Get up," Lazsh snorted, “We have to find her."

I stared back, confused, “What do you mean?"

“Yaleen, she's missing," Dondrae said, motioning towards something with his muzzle, “We think she slipped inside during the battle."

I put my one good hand on Dondrae's shoulder and lifted myself up, peering at where he was pointing.

A round, black hole was pinned against the brown wall of the hills, surrounded by shattered rock and a darkened crater. Air whistled through it, almost like it was whispering our names, beckoning us.

White Stripe's rocket must have done this. I looked from the cavern to where they were earlier, or at least where I thought they were. If Lazsh hadn't moved the Hauler, it would have been a direct hit and whether we won the battle or not, we would have died here. It helped take my mind off the execution and steel my resolve to the matter at hand.

“Let's get moving! What are we waiting for?"

“Pawel, you need to..." Dondrae whispered, but was cut off.

“Let's move," Lazsh hissed, waving us towards the tunnel, “now."

Lazsh didn't care about her, of course, but he valued her as leverage against us. He didn't know our true value in her, but he knew we valued her. Besides, this was a good excuse to begin the exploration post-haste and his patience had long been used up.

“Okay," Dondrae growled lowly, “but we need to rest occasionally, alright?"

Lazsh simply snorted and turned around, tail lashing swiftly behind him as he marched towards the entrance. His claws kicked back dirt behind him as he stepped.

Grumbling, Dondrae took his place by my side and we followed close behind him. I flicked on my flashlight and we stepped into the darkness, greeted by the smell of distant, dusty metal.

And deep, deep into the shadows, something rattled.