After having figured out dragons a bit, I realized how expressive they are! Which was a good vent for some of the things I was going through in real life at the time. Hence, this short story is born, and with it, the final crazy dirty book I wrote. In the original story I actually had a motive glitch (my chars have motivesheets that sort of determines what they do in a freewrite so I don’t have to think while writing drafts…) where Martock would always shoot Nyx after she threatens him when they leave the evil chamber. I eventually replaced it with a speech and had to completely rewire Martock…anyways, story:
–
–
The last few days had been the worst in his existence. On Wednesday, he had lost his job, having gotten into a fight with his manager over the most absurd matters imaginable (whether the printer should use black and white or color cartridges). On Thursday, his mate had left him, having realized how much of a ‘loser’ he was for not being able to keep a ‘desk job’. On Friday, he had gotten completely wasted at the pub with some friends and couldn’t pay the tab! So what happens? He gets his ass kicked by a massive Terran bouncer and ends up on the curb.
The fact that the Raumens took over his planet over the weekend and enslaved his species didn’t help too much either.
So here he was, in some transport, being taken up to Nova knows where with a cluster of other very unlucky Vorchans. Or maybe they were the lucky ones? He didn’t know anymore, he was still too hung-over to care.
There were four others in his cage: A young Terran that hadn’t stopped crying, a Desert that seemed to have forgotten how to, an Arctic that was asleep (yes, asleep), and a Blackwing that wouldn’t stop gnawing at the cage. A Blackwing? It had been a long time since he’d seen one of those.
“What exactly are you trying to accomplish?” he finally asked the Blackwing, getting tired of that grating sound of tooth on metal.
“What does it look like I’m trying to accomplish?” she asked.
She was a good looking Vorchan, his age, with a decent physique.
“So you cut your way through the cage, then what?” he asked.
“Maybe I’m just sharpening my teeth.”
“Why would you be doing that?”
“So I can sever your vocal chords.”
“Sounds… hot.” he tempted fate and came closer to the angered Blackwing. She stopped sharpening her teeth, snapping at him. He bounced back with a playful growl.
“What’s your name, Blackwing?”
“Nyx.” she snarled.
“Why is it always the girls that are the hostile ones? You don’t see me trying to bite your head off.”
“You probably have no reason to. Vulcans are only defensive if they are actually handsome enough to attract mates.” she said.
“Ouch, that hurt. We’re being ferried to our deaths and already with the insults.”
“So what’s your name, Vulcan?”
“Virmire.” he said with a smile, pressing up against her, eyes locking with hers with the most innocent expression he could bestow. She was so much taller than him.
She had her teeth around his neck, but didn’t bite down, “I guess you’re thinking you’ve got nothing to lose, huh?” she asked, perplexed.
“Indeed. What is it that makes you Blackwings so aggressive anyways? Or is it just you?” he asked, nuzzling her.
She tried to back off, but ended up bumping into another Vorchan. “Please…” she scoffed.
“I might be unattractive, but I know for a fact that Blackwings are the most reclusive race on Terra. I think you’re the first I’ve seen in person since… ever!”
“We aren’t that uncommon.” she said, looking away.
“I could help make you more common. Part of me is black! That gives us what, a fifty-fifty chance that our offspring will be Blackwings?”
“You disgust me… and I don’t think it works that way anyways.”
“Pfft you should feel honoured that I chose you out of all the Vorchans here.”
“I’m the only female in this cage…”
He growled.
She finally laughed.
“There we go! See, imagine how much of a fun life you’d have with me!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, I’m sure it would be a wonderful hour or however long it’ll take for them to take us apart and sell our internal organs.”
This made the young Terran start crying even harder. “I don’t want to die!” he wailed, pressing up against the cage in a futile attempt to escape. He was joined with the sound of other children crying in other cages.
“Do you hear that wonderful sound?” Virmire asked. “This could be the sound of our house one day!”
“Children crying? Metal creaking?”
“My bed has metal supports!” he said suggestively, risking another nuzzle.
“You…are…relentless.” Nyx sighed, keeping her head up and away from his affection.
“What else am I gonna do in the last hour of my existence?” Virmire asked rhetorically, staring up at her with a longing gaze.
“Well I hope you have long arms because you’re not getting any pleasure out of me.” Nyx shot.
Virmire laughed, “That was pretty good. So what’s your story?”
“No story, really. Went to work, got captured, in cage.”
“Is there a Mr. Nyx?”
“We’re very selective of our mates. I would most likely only choose another Blackwing, since the odds of successful—“
“So you’re single!” Virmire said, getting pressed on his back in his attempt to lock snouts with her.
“I didn’t say that!”
There was a loud shudder. The children stopped crying, adults were now chattering amongst each other, wondering what was happening. Blast doors outside opened and they had stopped moving.
“Well… it was nice knowing you.” Virmire said, his tone having become all the sadder.
“You too… really!” she replied, half-sincere.
It was all they said until the guards came to escort them away.
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Virmire asked, in line behind Nyx. She had a very voluptuous tail, with two very deadly-looking spikes on either end of the tip, flanked by thin crimson blades that extended out like slanted incisors. He’d make sure to avoid those.
“Probably to the processing plant.” she was trying to sound mocking, but her voice was shaking. Reality was slowly starting to sink in.
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
She laughed, “Oh that’s comforting. It’s good to know I’ve got reject Vulcan watching my back.”
“That one!” yelled one of the guards. “Separate it, their hides are rare.”
“Well, now’s your chance.” stammered Nyx, watching the guards walk towards her.
The other Vorchans cowered from the guards, unsure of who they were going to take away. They put a leash around Nyx’s neck.
“Wait!” Virmire said, hoping they had translator blocks. “There’s a way to make more money off of her!”
They ignored him, pulling her towards the exit. Her nails were scraping against the composite floor as she resisted with all her might.
“She has Blackwing dominant genes! I have Blackwing recessive since I’m a Vulcan. Our offspring is all Blackwings! We can create a dozen a year! Imagine the profit!”
“Why don’t we breed the Blackwings? Isn’t that better profit?” asked one of the guards.
“We’re not farmers you idiot! Let’s grab this one and process it so we can get some lunch.”
“Wait!” Virmire yelled.
They were ignoring him completely now, pulling her towards the exit again, she gave him a desperate glance, true fear in her eyes, before being pulled through the exit and away from the group.
He tried to run for the door but the shackles on his legs magnetized, pinning the center chain to the floor.
“No! You bastards!” he snorted at one of the guards, who recoiled fearfully.
“They can’t breathe fire Bruce.”
“Some can.”
“Shut up, let’s get them to the habitat.”
Habitat? Where was this habitat? And Nyx, how long did she have left?
–
–
Virmire had been a strange individual, but the attention had still been flattering. She tried to block out what was going to happen, walking down the hallways as obediently as she could, trying to memorize the path in case an opportunity presented itself. What good that did, she couldn’t remember anything, let alone an endless series of turns. They finally stopped.
“Here we are.” said the guard, entering a series of key combinations into the door panel. It opened to the most grotesque room Nyx had ever seen. The floor and walls were stained with blood. There was a table in the center big enough to fit a Vorchan, tools on either side of the table and above it had an array of bloodstained instruments. It was something out of a horror flick.
“I’m not going in there…” she said.
“Oh yes you are. We need to get those wings off before we can skin you. How long do you think this one will live Charles?”
“She looks like she’s got fight in her, I’d say she makes it to the skinning chamber alive.”
She wet herself.
“Don’t worry, that’s common.”
“I’m going to die…” she muttered, tears in her eyes.
“Yes, yes you are.” laughed the guard, “Let’s get going.”
“No.” she shook her head.
“Come on, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.” He was pulling on her foreleg with both of his hands, they were covered in thick padded gloves. Neither of the guards had a weapon, but she was still too terrified to move.
One of the guards started pushing at her posterior with a stick he had picked up off the wall. “Come on now. Let’s not make this harder than it already is.”
She extended her wings, bracing them against the door frame. They were both pressing against her now, trying to get her through the door.
Suddenly every nerve in her body writhed in pain and she crumpled herself into a heap on the ground reflexively. Within moments she was in the chamber. The smell of death filled the air, she vomited, trying to run for one of the corners. The guard shocked her again.
“I guess it’s the hard way, then.” said the guard. “Get Johnson to scrub up this mess.”
“Shouldn’t we wait till after the wings are removed?”
“Good point, good point.”
She started to cry uncontrollably as they heaved her onto the table. Straps automatically twined around her, restraining her. Two were trying to twine onto her wing-joints, but she was folding her wings against herself as tightly as she could.
“That’s alright, we can just sever it from the joint here – wait a second. Charles, why can’t we see the joint?”
“Dunno, try extending her wings a little.”
“Honey can you extend your wings a little for me?” the guard asked.
Nyx shook her head.
“Yeah this isn’t gonna work, we have to get these wings extended so we can get the clamps on the joint, otherwise it won’t be a clean cut.”
“None of the other Blackwings had sheathed joints, what is going on?”
She was petrified, she held onto this advantage for as long as she could.
“Look, Blackwing. We’re just trying to do our job here. Now you aren’t getting out of this chamber with your wings. How long it takes is entirely up to you.”
Nyx refused to move, keeping her wings folded against her.
“Alright, you asked for it—“
“Stop you idiot! You can’t use the shockstick on the table. You’ll short-circuit everything!”
“Shit sorry you’re rig—“
Nyx had her jaws around the shockstick. She jabbed it into the table as hard as she could.
Nothing activated.
“Ohmagod she has the stick!”
“Get the stick!”
“How!”
“I dunno how pull it out of her mouth!”
The guard had both hands around the stick now but Nyx wouldn’t let go, she pulled on the stick like it was the most important thing in existence. Suddenly she felt something clamp around one of her wing joints. Her right wing.
She cried out in surprise and terror, she must have loosened her grip on her wings during the commotion. The guard recovered the stick and idly began preparing the wing. He was wiping the joint over with something.
“Alright that’s one.”
“Let’s just cut it off right now.”
“Really? And then deal with having to remove the second wing while she’s thrashing about?”
“She’ll bleed to death won’t she?”
“Nope, the last one didn’t. Both wings will do the trick, one won’t.”
“I think we should try.”
“I THINK YOU SHOULD LET ME GO!” Nyx blurted. Snapping at one of the guards.
“Whoa, whoa whoa. No violence in this chamber. You snap at me again and we’re removing the wing. Do you understand?”
Nyx hissed.
“Alright, you ask—“
“Wait!! I understand, please don’t take my wing! Please.”
“Fine, you can be with your precious wings a few moments longer. Charles how goes the left wing?”
“I still can’t figure out how to get it out of that sheathe. It’s pretty impressive. I haven’t seen a system like this before. Maybe the boss would like to examine her?”
Yes he would, he’d love to examine me. Examine me with my wings intact!
She watched the two guards desperately as they contemplated this. “Well alright, but call Johnson first and get this mess cleaned up.”
“Should I release the wing?”
“Na, in fact, stretch it out as far as you can so the boss can get a better look at it.”
The restraining clamp extended out, clipping to the edge of her wing spar. It began to tug, gently but surely. It felt un-natural, having one wing extended all the way and another retracted. It made her want to extend the other one, but that thought made her retract her wing even more, which hurt the extended wing as the muscles on either side of her body tried to work in tandem.
Johnson was taking his time, and the pain of uncoordinated muscles was excruciating.
With tears in her eyes and a weak shudder, she loosened her left wing. The system automatically clamped around it. She extended the wing automatically, not as far as the right wing, but enough to alleviate the pain in her muscles. She could almost feel the deadly cutting devices at the base of her joint, a single button press away. She started to cry again.
Why? Why was this happening? It was all that went through her mind as the man came in.
He was a tall man for a Raumen, with an Admiral’s hat and a grin on his face. He almost seemed awed by her presence.
“Here she is, Admiral. A Blackwing.”
“A very fine Blackwing indeed. So why haven’t the wings been removed yet?”
“Sir it’s be—“
“Oh right you aren’t familiar with the new console layout. The button’s here let me just do the right one real quick—“
“NO WAIT” all of them yelled at once.
The admiral froze with his fingers a centimetre away from the button. That button was all that existed in Nyx’s mind. Maybe it was better she didn’t see it, maybe it was better she closed her eyes and just waited for it all to end.
She did that, closing her eyes, looking away, tensing her muscles, then un-tensing them, wondering how it would be less painful to lose her wings. Wishing she would die already.
“Look at the sheathes by her wing joints. I think she retracts them into her upper carapace, behind the scales. It’s some sort of evolutionary step I think.”
“How… am I supposed to see the sheathes…” The admiral said slowly, “WHEN YOU HAVE THE WINGS FORCEFULLY BLOODY EXTENDED?”
“Oh shit, right.”
“Charles you idiot, release her wings.”
The restraints released her grip on her wings and she immediately tucked them into her sides as fast as she could. In fact, she tucked them in so quickly that the admiral laughed at the sudden wake turbulence.
“Oh ho, she’s a quick one.”
“I don’t want to lose my wings.” she pleaded, hoping the admiral would understand reason.
He walked over to her right side, touching the wing spar tenderly, testing the webbing. He wasn’t wearing any gloves. She could feel his clammy skin on her wing membrane. He ran his hand down the membrane until he reached the sheathed joint, trying to press a finger in and giving up.
“Is it an airtight seal?” he asked.
“We don’t know—“
“I wasn’t asking you.” said the admiral, looking at Nyx.
“I—it’s.” tears began to run down her eyes again. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to compose a coherent sentence again.
“Is the translator working, all I’m hearing is warbley roars.” The Admiral said.
“She’s probably just terrified, sir. They tend to be when they’re about to lose their wings.”
“Yes yes I’d imagine so.” The Admiral was looking Nyx over, “How can I calm it down?”
“Move me out of here.” Nyx pleaded.
“Ha! I understood that.” he exclaimed.
“Please move me out of here!” she repeated, looking straight at the man.
“What color are your eyes? Red? I haven’t seen a Blackwing with red eyes before. And many have begged me for mercy.”
“I think your parents had… what was it… brown and black? Mother and father respectively?”
Nyx was appalled. “You—“ she wanted to call him the most terrible things known to existence, but again her voice was failing her.
“I know black is a sign of a pure breed. Brown means there was probably a Terran in your mother’s family tree somewhere. But red… a Vulcan? But Vulcans eyes are usually blue… then again Terran’s eyes aren’t always brown anyways… what idiot told me this theory… I should have him shot it’s preposterous.”
Nyx looked away again.
He put a hand around her snout, pulling her gaze back towards his.
“Keep the wings…”
Nyx stared at him in awe. Really? Was this one really merciful?
“Get me those eyes.”
“Yes sir.”
He began to walk away.
“NO WAIT!” she wailed, “You wanted to know about the wings! My wings! They are sealed. It’s vacuum sealed, it protects my joints from water, keeps them safe… and from the elements, from space! From radiation, from anything.”
“Radiation, you say?”
She remembered times lying listlessly on the beach. She’d always retract her wings all the way to keep sand and water from getting onto the joint and making flight uncomfortable.
“All Vorchans are immune to radiation, she’s just stalling, sir.”
“They’re unique!” Nyx continued. “I’ve never seen another Vorchan with wings like this. Not even my parents had wings like this.” she extended them all the way.
“Indeed. They are very beautiful, as are your eyes. Make sure her eyes stay intact when you get to that part of the process. It would be a waste, people would pay top dollar for red Blackwing eyes.”
“Please, there are better ways to use me. Think of it, you would be the only one to own a Vorchan with wings like mine!”
“Eh, it really isn’t that interesting.”
“Please, there has to be something about me that makes me worth living! Examine me further.”
The Admiral sighed, “Fine, but you really have to stop shuddering, it makes you look unappealing. You know your father faced his death with the greatest dignity I had ever seen in a Blackwing, in a Vorchan even. He didn’t even flinch as his wings were severed. We weren’t even sure when he’d died, before or after the skinning!”
Nyx whimpered plaintively.
“Well let’s look at you then. Release her from the table.” The Admiral ordered.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Charles I swear to god if you question me again it’ll be you on this bloody table.”
“Yes sir, sorry sir.”
All of the restraints released. Nyx wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to move.
“Let’s go now, one leg after the other. I’m sure you still remember how to walk.”
She carefully stepped off the table, falling over to one side and lying on the floor next to the table. Who expected her to walk after such a trauma?
The Admiral kneeled down next to her. He started with her face, examining her snout, her teeth. They gasped as he opened her jaws and looked at every incisor.
“What? Do you think she’ll kill me? Lunge at me and bite my head clean off?”
He pressed his head up against her snout to prove the point. He smelled repulsive.
She began to shiver again, terrified of this fearless man. She backed away as he tried to grasp a wing.
“I knew you could stand! Will you look at that? She’s a tall one too.”
“Will you stop talking about me like that!” she pleaded.
“How old are you Blackwing?”
“I’m nineteen and my name is Nyx!”
“A nice name. We used to have a starship of that class didn’t we?” he asked.
“Dunno, maybe.” Charles muttered.
“Show me your left front paw, Nyx.” he said.
She showed him her paw, extending her claws as he asked, retracting them.
“Pitch black. Interesting.” The Admiral ooh-ed.
“They’re called Blackwings sir.”
“CHARLES I swear over the Nova’s corpse…” The Admiral snapped.
“Sorry sir…”
He beckoned for the other paw. While she still felt sick, her curiosity seemed to be returning.
“Why is it you have no fear, sir?” Nyx asked.
“Do you really want to know, Nyx?” the Admiral asked, pulling her paw close to his mouth.
Nyx suddenly realized she didn’t. She shook her head, whimpering. “But why?” she asked. “Why do this?”
“Money.”
“But wouldn’t I be worth more alive?”
“Perhaps, but we’re already full up with potential slaves.”
“But—“ she couldn’t believe she’d stooped to this level of bargaining, “I’m more valuable than a lot of those potential slaves.
“Perhaps, but many people fear Blackwings, and besides.” he had both of his hands around her head now. He pulled her down against his face, eye to eye. “Would you really condemn one of your own kind?”
She didn’t know what to say. He patted her on the cheek. “I thought so.”
“You must think I’m such a coward, such a disgrace.” she said.
“I do, but why should you care what I think?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s because it confirms my own belief. That I am a coward, a disgrace.”
“And why is that?” he asked, leaning down below her now, looking at her right side, testing the scales, the armour.
“I spent my whole life afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of failure. I knew what others thought of me, so I never took any risks, pushed everyone away, put up this facade of strength that wasn’t me.”
She yelped as he had a hand around the tip of her tail.
“Well let’s start fixing that by extending your tail, not having it tucked between your legs. And stand up straight and proud.”
Nyx extended her tail behind her and stood up, but she started to shiver uncontrollably as the Admiral looked her over.
“That’s a start. We’ll work on the shivering.” The Admiral said.
“For how long?” she asked hopefully.
“Well until I finish the inspection, I guess.”
“And what happens then?”
“You know what happens then.” he made a snipping gesture with his hands towards her wings.
Surprisingly she didn’t cower, she didn’t wet herself, but she was still shivering. But it was a start. She couldn’t help but feel proud, here, in this blood-soaked room, facing painful oblivion.
“Why don’t… you kill us first?” she asked.
“Too expensive. We process thousands of you a day. You’ve already taken up this stall longer than you should have. We really should be speeding this along, let me see your tail again.”
He had one hand holding the tip and the other underneath the middle of the bladed edge, examining her tool for balance and violence thoroughly.
“See, a red diamond!” The Admiral pointed at the diamond victoriously. Nyx’s eyes lit up hopefully. “See that Charles? She’s not all black!”
He gazed at the two blades that extended out from the tip of the tail, tested them with his finger. “Blades are red too, see Charles? Bloody Charles…”
“I see sir…”
“Damn right you see.”
It wouldn’t be long now. Nyx thought. “So will this tail look good as a decoration in someone’s room.”
“Yes, it will. I think I’ll put it in my room actually.”
“Good. I hope you’ll remember me.” Nyx said dejectedly.
“Well I definitely will, because it’s coming with the rest of you.”
“Please don’t be mocking me, not now.” Nyx whimpered.
“I don’t mock.” The Admiral said succinctly, beckoning at one of the men.
He opened the door.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
There was another Vorchan waiting outside, two guards restraining it.
“Alright, she’s out. Your turn.” they said.
“Well that doesn’t look so bad.” said the Vorchan, watching Nyx leave relatively unscathed with the Admiral.
“You’re evil.” Nyx said, tears in her eyes again. She stopped walking, looking back at the doomed Vorchan. He looked back at her, disappearing behind the doors. “Our species is a deadly, honourable species. If we were part of the Empire we would crush you. Fleets would be upon your pathetic City Ship.”
“See, and this is why we can never keep you guys as slaves. The moment you flee imminent danger you become your old obnoxious selves.”
“I just don’t understand.” she said.
“Look. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you for what you just said. Listen to me Nyx. This is how life is. This is always how life will be. You think this doesn’t happen every day, of every second? You think some species somewhere isn’t being enslaved, tortured, killed, as we speak? The galaxy is a massive place, Nyx, the universe is even bigger.”
“But we as individuals can choose the path we take.”
The Admiral laughed. “Do you eat meat? Do you hunt?”
“But those aren’t sentient—“
“What is sentient. Don’t preach to me Vorchan. Your people didn’t think so highly of us either. Were they there when the Zemorian-Coalition war happened? Did they care when the Raumen race was nearly annihilated? Did they even raise a finger as the Black Nova swept through our legions and massacred us like… like…” it was the Admiral who was losing his countenance now, over something that had happened thousands of years ago.
“We used to be a proud people Nyx. And now look at us. This is my people.” he said, extending his arms out. “This little bubble of ships, this bubble of life. This is all that is really left, the only organized effort. Sure there are other splinter factions, but they don’t have a City Ship, they don’t have the hardware. The koveran shards on that planet were supposed to give me the FTL capabilities to get to Zemoria, to get my revenge, to spark that strength that I know my people still have, to give them the opportunity to rise up against their Zemorian overlords and become the dominant force in the Galaxy once more!”
Nyx had stopped crying. “Why?” she asked.
“BECAUSE IT’S OUR BIRTHRIGHT!” he yelled, slapping her across the face. “And don’t you forget it.”
“I want to go home.” she muttered.
“Well we’re going to a sick bay first.” he said, clutching his hand, “I cut myself on one of your… bloody spikes.”
–
–
Virmire dreamt of Nyx that night. It was a pleasant dream… at first. They were cuddling, close to each other, she was about to kiss him when the Raumens took her away, strapped her to a machine, skinned her alive, ripped her apart in front of him. He never knew he could dream up so much blood and gore. And the scream, the bloodcurdling scream. It woke him in a cold sweat. The sound of insects chirping in the night engulfed him. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that dream.
“Nyx…” he muttered, getting up.
It wasn’t fair.
He walked over to the lake where he and several other Vorchans slept. The habitat was a biosphere, probably a part of this massive city-ship-thing they were in. In it they had everything they ever needed, even food. They kept them nice and plump and happy before they started being taken away one by one.
He looked at his reflection in the water; at his dejected expression. He started drinking.
“Who is this Nyx anyways?” asked another Vorchan. She was keeping her distance. Virmire understood why. Vulcans, his race, were extremely hostile to members of the opposite gender when separated from their mates. She was playing it safe, curious more than anything else. It was still dark outside, making it difficult to distinguish her colors. How did she know he was a Vulcan? Or was she just cautious by nature?
“It didn’t seem real.” he muttered. “It still doesn’t seem real.”
The idea that he and Nyx were mates flattered him. As if the fact that it had been thought by another already made it some sort of reality.
Then Nyx died in his mind, and that reality became grief-stricken and hopeless.
“It’s okay… we’ll find a way out.” she said reassuringly, stepping closer.
Before he could control himself, he lunged. The female Vorchan immediately bolted, her wings lifting her several feet in the air.
Virmire hissed, baring his fangs, broken instincts taking over “Bitch! How is it okay? How is any of this okay? Get the hell away from me and take your denial with you.”
She flew over to the other side of the river, disappearing into the darkness.
If one more person talks to me… he felt that Vulcan rage, he had never felt it before. He had to fly, to tire himself out. He began flying in one direction as fast as he could, climbing as high as he could. Climbing until he was above the clouds – yes, there were clouds – until the other Vorchans were just specks below him. He flew and he flew until he hit something, a cliff face. He hit it so hard that it shattered, the rock faded away, revealing broken glass and sparks. He tried to poke his nose through the broken window but an electric field pushed him away.
He recognized it immediately, an electrostatic membrane. He scanned around, wondering if anybody else noticed this window in the cliff. He tested the area around the cliff, knocking on it with his claws. It was all metal, everything except for this window here.
A way out.
“Out to where?” he muttered.
Where would he go? He was on a Nova-damned ship, still a nobody, still weak, still nothing. He couldn’t even save the one Vorchan he’d promised to help.
He pressed himself up against the fake cliff and sobbed his way down to the ground, crying himself to sleep like the pathetic creature he knew he was.
–
The next day the birds were singing, the sun was high in the sky (or whatever was pretending to be the sun).
He spat at it. A tiny burst of flame erupting from his lips. Well at least he remembered how to do that, his ancestral gift. A gift banned by the president for all the fires it caused.
He flew up to the electrostatic membrane, testing it again with his nose. When it shocked him he spit on it with all his might, expecting the most powerful flameburst ever to grace the Vorchan Empire to erupt from his mouth, but instead a globule of saliva shimmered against the field and evaporated. It wasn’t even a large globule.
“Let me.”
It was that same damn Vorchan, it must have been following him. She hit the electrostatic membrane with a powerful flame burst, disrupting it and diving through. Virmire dove after her.
“Another Vulcan…” he observed, noticing her black and red skin.
“So what’s the plan now?” she asked.
“I find Nyx. You go away.”
“Fat chance – in me going away that is.”
“I know what you’re doing!” Virmire hissed, “It’s what I do! Intimacy by proximity. It doesn’t work, go away!”
She didn’t budge, looking at him with those typical blue, interested eyes. Interested. He didn’t deserve to have a Vorchan interested in him. He started headed down the corridor.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the place where they skin Vorchans alive.”
“Was she a Blackwing?” she asked.
“Yes!” Virmire exclaimed, staring at her intently, “How do you know? Do you know where she is?”
“No, it’s just that it’s usually the Blackwings they kill. We’re the slaves. I guess us Vulcans aren’t as ferocious as we think we are.”
Virmire continued down the corridor, wondering where the hell everyone was, wondering why he hadn’t been captured yet, if he could only ask someone.
“Someone’s coming!” hissed the Vulcan, nipping his tail.
He yelped in surprise.
“This way!” she extended her wings, the air in the room fluttered as she pressed herself up against the ceiling, pushing away a bulkhead. She slid through like a serpent, her tail disappearing in the vents. She was very small. “Look, you won’t find your mate if they capture and kill you too. Come on!” she hissed, her eyes a glint in the darkness.
Virmire jumped up, and she clamped around his neck, helping heave him up. It reminded him of Nyx, and he became paralyzed, trapped in the memory. It began to replay over and over, ending with her death every time.
“Snap out of it.”
“I was such an idiot. Such an utter moron.” he said.
“Keep it down!” she hissed.
“I—“ he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t cry. He looked away, mustering what courage he had left.
The other Vulcan was nuzzling him. He instinctively bit, digging into the skin on her left shoulder, she nuzzled anyways. Virmire tasted blood, he let go, laying his head against her neck.
“Oh Nyx… I was such an idiot.” he whimpered. They entwined tails. Her scent began to calm him. Nyx and him weren’t really mates, that truth was starting to return now, his instincts to defend himself against this Vulcan’s incursions were fading quickly, but his guilt remained, that horrible guilt.
He wouldn’t tell her. He didn’t want her to mate with him, didn’t want to feel such pleasure, not now. He didn’t deserve it, not after what he did. How he condemned Nyx, joked about her imminent death. He had to save her.
They skulked onwards through the ship’s massive bowels, searching grate after grate. Moving as silently as two Vorchans possibly could.
“This was a good idea… Vulcan.” Virmire finally said.
“My name is Yume.”
“Yume.” He repeated. “Mine is Virmire.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Yume said. It was dark, but Virmire could catch the glint of her smile.
They reached the end of the vents. There were two ways to go now, up or down. Both ways looked infinitely long.
Suddenly the way down snapped closed.
Airflow redirection. He waited for the way up to snap closed but it didn’t.
“Quickly Yume.” he said, scurrying through the flow valve and ending up one tier above.
Yume followed, he couldn’t look as she pulled her way through the valve, fearing it would snap her in half any moment. He then laughed at the thought, they were armoured, powerful beings, a flow valve wouldn’t be able to harm them. He still nuzzled her when she made it across, so glad to see that she was unharmed.
He then noticed the wound he’d caused. There was more light on this tier, the blood glinted off of it.
“I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry.” he instinctively licked the wound, disinfecting it.
She licked back, once, testing his response. He bared his teeth, almost as an afterthought, but it was enough to make her think again. It made him feel horrible, why was he pushing her away?
Nyx. “Let’s go.” he said.
They searched seventeen tiers that day, making their way up, always up. He was finally too tired to go on. They settled next to each other, Yume giving him a respectable amount of space.
That night there was a war going on in Virmire’s mind: A battle between Nyx and Yume. He would hiss at one, then the other, then attack one, then the other. They would attack each other. It was a flurry of fangs and claws. But then they would take Nyx away from him, kill her in front of his eyes. The blood would splatter his face.
Blood splattered his face. He had his jaws clamped around Yume’s neck. Terrified, he let go, licking up the wound, there was a lot of blood. Yume was moaning in pain, whimpering.
What had he done?
“Oh Yume!” he cried, trying to clean the wound. The gash was horrible, around the entire left side of her neck. He didn’t even want to imagine how deep it went. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. He licked it continuously, lapping up the blood, hoping it would disinfect. There was too much blood, it wasn’t letting it clot, the pressure was too high. Then he remembered something he’d seen in a movie.
He bit down on her neck with the dull part of his mouth, clamping the exposed artery. He knew they had redundant arteries, one carotid artery alone couldn’t bleed them out, at least that’s what he’d heard, so long as he did this, and didn’t stop.
Countless minutes passed.
Infinity passed.
Yume wasn’t moving anymore, she wasn’t bleeding anymore. He let go of her neck, her head sagged, lolled limply to one side.
He began to cry. He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. He cried and cried until he was too tired to cry, and then he fell asleep next to her body.
When he awoke the next day, she was gone.
He searched the entire tier for her, desperate to find her. Who had taken her? Had it all been a dream? Some hallucination? Had he gone all this way alone? He finally arrived back where he started, and made his way up to the next tier.
“Thanks for saving me.” she said as he poked his head through the redirection vent.
He cried out in surprise and joy, embracing her with his wings in this cramped space.
“I love you. I love you so much.” he said, pouncing on her, pinning her on her back.
“I’d hope so. Maybe it would keep your instincts from trying to kill me in your sleep.”
He licked her profusely, every last bit of her, but this tier was uncomfortable, it was hard for them to be on top of each other, he couldn’t even extend his wings. He tried different positions but it just wasn’t right. The flare went away, replaced by guilt and worry.
“I’m sorry.” he said, ashamed.
“It’s okay. I know it’s hard. I didn’t think this through. It was silly of me to try to break the bond between a Vulcan and his mate. I’d turn around but I don’t know the way back.”
“Yume…” he said… “It wasn’t that simple. I—” he wasn’t sure how much he should say. If he told her the truth then how could he explain the attack? But it was the truth.
He began to explain. He spoke for several minutes, telling her about how they’d met, how he’d acted, how he thought of her, the dreams he had every night.
“I see.” she didn’t seem to know what else to say. He felt like he was losing her.
“I still love you.” she said. “I’m not sure why. I have no real reason to love you, just like you have no real reason to love Nyx. But I still do. Love is strange at times.”
“I’m glad you came with me.” Virmire said, continuing up to the next tier.
“Me too. But I think I’ll stay here this time while you search. I’m very tired…” she sat down, curling her tail against herself, “I think I lost a lot of blood.”
“Okay. I’m so sorry.” he said with a nuzzle. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I know how long you’ll take, all these tiers are the same.” she yawned.
“Yes, but I’m getting much better at searching.” he boasted, posing proudly. “And these ceilings are higher.”
She had such longing in her eyes. He could imagine it reflected in his.
Just like all the other tiers, this tier had no torture chamber, no Nyx, nothing. These were still crew quarters, sleeping chambers.
He returned to the air flow chamber to head to the upper tier.
Yume was gone.
“No.” he whispered. He peaked up, knowing that wouldn’t be the way she’d go.
“It was silly of me to try to break the bond between a Vulcan and his mate.”
“It wasn’t, Yume! It wasn’t!”
“I didn’t think this through…”
He had to make a choice. Up, possibly: to Nyx. Or down, back to Yume. But then where would she go, would she go straight down or hide on one of the tiers?
“Yume!” he yelled, calling down the air flow valves. He stared for a while, down the endless expanse of open valves, hoping to see her crawling through. She wasn’t. It meant she wasn’t moving. She had situated herself on one of the tiers.
Without warning, the air flow valve below him suddenly closed.
Panicked, he jumped up to the upper tier. That air flow valve closed too. They knew he was here. He began to run through this tier, not sure of what they would send after him, what security measures they would employ to eliminate him. He only hoped Yume was ok, he didn’t want another death on his conscience.
He scanned this tier idly, looking down the cracks into the grates. These rooms were different. There was only one. One massive chamber. He heard someone talking.
“He’s persistent, I’ll give him that much. I didn’t think he’d get all the way up here.”
“VIRMIRE!” cried Nyx.
She remembered his name. Without thinking, he immediately began thrashing against the gates, biting it, clawing against it, whipping it with his tail. It was some sort of powerful composite, he couldn’t–
It suddenly opened automatically, dropping him into the large chamber. He got up on his hind legs and flared his wings, roaring as loud as he could. Nyx ran to his side, embracing him with her wings.
Nyx, they nuzzled each other contently.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through.” said Nyx.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through!” cried Virmire.
“But I do. We were watching you on the security cameras. He made me watch, I had no choice. I couldn’t call out to you. Not even during your fever dreams when you nearly severed your own tail.”
“What?” Virmire asked.
He brought his tail into his line of sight. There was a gash along its left side. Flashbacks of Yume permeated his mind, distant phantom images, fading as Nyx nuzzled him.
“Yume.” he muttered.
“You were talking to yourself. There was no other Vorchan. He made me watch you lose your mind.”
It was a Vulcan. It made sense, his own colors. His own tail. Had he really tried to mate with his own tail? He let out a shrill laugh.
“Virmire…” Nyx sighed. “I’m glad I got to see you again.”
Dread filled his mind, paralyzed him, something was wrong.
“What do you mean…” he stammered.
“The Admiral took me up on my offer. You saved my life.”
“I did?”
“Yes. You gave me your spot.”