King leapt away from the thing as the lid’s surface melted into the same hazy liquid of the doors he’d stumbled through. An acrid plume of blue-green vapor rushed from the sarcophagus, filling the laboratory with a cloud of unbreathable air.
He winced as he caught a whiff of the stuff. The thing sprayed sulfur into the air. The creature inside breathed sulfur. King had no doubt that’s what the terraforming device hidden somewhere in the downed craft—the same device King had come to destroy—was spewing into the air above Eridu.
A sudden thought struck him. Not a device. His lungs burned, eliciting a fit of coughs while he put the pieces together. The terraforming machine—technology designed to make an uninhabitable planet into a habitable one—wasn’t merely some piece of machinery hidden somewhere onboard. He thought about the never ending corridor, how it seemed to far exceed the dimensions of a craft capable of entering the Earth’s gravitational pull. He thought about the liquid metal tech that seemed tantamount to the ship’s overall architecture. And everything fell into place. I’m not looking for a device. It’s the entire ship. The ship itself is the terraforming machine.
The ship was supposed to land, and then burrow into the Earth’s soil. Once properly positioned, the liquid metal could spread out, creating a subterranean network of tunnels like the roots of some huge, demonic plant. Then, taking the minerals and nutrients from the Earth itself, it could convert all the resources it discovered into a breathable atmosphere for Tiamat’s people. To stop it from happening, King was going to have to discover a way to destroy the ship.
His coughing intensified. His eyes watered from the toxic fumes burning in his lungs.
I’m not going to destroy much of anything, unless I figure a way out of here.
He glanced around the room for a way out of the increasingly inhospitable space. The door he’d entered through had disappeared when he’d removed the disc. And now, the disc was hidden somewhere within the metallic soup of Tiamat’s opening sarcophagus. Once the sulfur saturated the air, he’d be as good as dead. And with no source of oxygen, King wasn’t sure his regenerative abilities would be able to restore him.
Adding to his dilemma, he couldn’t be sure any action he took was his own. The creature had somehow manipulated him into setting aside the spear. Then, completely unaware, he’d been compelled to open the one thing he’d had no intention of opening.
The gas was quickly filling the room. No longer just coming from the containment chamber, King noticed plumes of sulfur shooting out from vents in the ceiling and floor, as well. With few options, he dashed to the nearby wall, grabbed the spear and turned to face the sarcophagus, just as a long, bony arm reached out through the liquefied lid.
The creature inside pulled itself up. Distracted by the sight, King was unaware of a series of hisses behind him, signaling the sudden release of sixteen more stasis tubes. Sixteen black, carapace-covered bodies began to shake with new life as the liquid that had sustained and nourished them for three millennia drained away into the floor.
All King could do between coughs was watch, as a pale, slender form slid from its prison and lifted itself to its full, twelve-foot height. The creature before him was unlike anything he’d ever imagined. Its pale blue skin shimmered in the ambient light, rippling with energy. Its two legs and arms were extraordinarily long and skeletal, giving King the impression of a great insect. But unlike the Girtablilu, the alien was bipedal. Distinctly humanoid. Its head was much larger than its wire-thin neck should have been able to support. Despite its unnatural bodily appearance, it was the face—or lack of a face—that held King’s attention. The skeletal structure of the face suggested eye sockets, a nose, a mouth and jaw, but it’s ‘face’ was a sheet of shimmering skin. No eyes. No mouth or nose. For a moment, it seemed impossible, but there were species on Earth that breathed through skin and absorbed nutrients without a mouth, so King could understand how a creature such as this could exist.
The creature was completely nude except for an ornately decorated headdress that adorning its massive head—a headdress that looked very familiar to King. But closer reflection on that would have to wait. As he continued assessing the creature’s appearance, he was stunned by a new revelation. The lack of clothing revealed something even more disturbing than anything so far. Its anatomy suggested that it was indeed very much a female. Two round breasts heaved as she stretched. They were positioned relatively in the appropriate anatomical position to any human’s breasts, which made her appearance all the more unnerving for him.
NOW I CAN LOOK ON YOU, her thoughts boomed in King’s oxygen-deprived mind.
He wasn’t sure how she could see him without eyes, but no good would come from him trying to understand her anatomy. He tried to lift the spear to throw at her, but his arms were already far too weak for such an exertion.
I’m going to die. Again.
YES. YOU ARE, she said. AND AFTERWARDS, THE BOY YOU HAVE SWORN TO PROTECT WILL BE BROUGHT TO ME. I WILL TAKE VENGEANCE ON THE SON OF MARDUK.
Belshazzar? Unable to speak, King could only think the questions now rapid-firing through his mind. But why? He’s done nothing to you.
HIS ANCESTOR WAS THE OFFENDER. NIMROD, WHO IMPRISONED ME HERE. IF I CANNOT HAVE MY VENGEANCE ON HIM, I WILL SEE HIS OFFSPRING SUFFER IN HIS STEAD.
I doubt Nimrod will care.
King dropped to his knees in another fit. A spray of crimson spewed from his nose and mouth with each cough. If not for his grip on the shaft of the spear, he would have collapsed completely to the floor.
A sudden cacophony of clicks brought the weakened King’s attention behind him. Sixteen Girtablilu now stood around him, watching the exchange with interest. Their multiple insectoid eyes shifted simultaneously between him and their mistress, Tiamat. Other than that, their arachnid-like limbs remained in place. Their saber arms unmoving.
This was supposed to be his army. They were supposed to have assisted him with his mission.
So why aren’t you guys doing your thing?
BECAUSE THEY CANNOT. I ALREADY TOLD YOU, THEY CANNOT HELP YOU. Tiamat moved toward him, her movements little more than a glide across the room. With a grace that King would have thought impossible for a creature of her stature, she knelt down and turned her empty face toward his, like she could look at him eye to eye. Gently, she removed the spear from his hand and laid it aside. THEIR REBELLION WAS VANQUISHED. THEY HAVE SEEN THEIR ERROR AND WILL SERVE THEIR MISTRESS WITHOUT QUESTION. YOU ARE WITHOUT HOPE.
Tiamat drew closer. She reached a long, slender, three-fingered hand up to his face and stroked it gently. Almost apologetically.
YOU ARE A MOST FASCINATING HUMAN, JACK SIGLER, she whispered in his mind. YOUR REGENERATIVE CAPABILITIES INTRIGUE ME IN WAYS YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY IMAGINE.
“I just have one thing to say before I die,” he managed to say aloud. Blood bubbled from his lips, dripping down his tunic to pool onto the floor around his knees.
AND WHAT IS THAT?
“I...understand why you...leave the fighting...to the Girtablilu.” In one swift motion, King shot up from the floor, pulled the sword he’d taken from the unconscious soldier from his belt, and swung it directly at the creature’s head.
The clang of metal echoed throughout the chamber, as Tiamat sprang back from the blow, backhanding King in the process. Her insect-like arms were surprisingly strong, and he flew back into the awaiting arms of a gargantuan Girtablilu.
FOOL! YOU THINK I CAN BE KILLED SO EAS…
The voice in King’s spinning brain flickered out before the thought could be completed. The creature staggered back, reaching up to her head in surprise and anger. An arc of electric current shot out from her headdress, striking her extended fingers with a sharp crack. She screamed something in a language King couldn’t understand and pointed accusingly at him with a skeletal finger.
The Girtablilu stared at her.
She screamed another indecipherable command, but the monsters still didn’t budge.
King wheezed for breath as he extricated himself from the scorpion man’s razor-sharp arms. The lacerations to his skin were already healing, but he wasn’t certain how much longer he could survive in the sulfurous atmosphere. It didn’t matter much at this point.
He’d already won.
“You made…” He hacked uncontrollably for a moment, then resumed speaking. “…you made one major mistake, lady. You shouldn’t have threatened the kid. It just pissed me off.” King looked at the sixteen scorpion creatures that towered over him. “I don’t know if you guys can understand me or not.” He nodded toward Tiamat’s trembling form. “She’s all yours.”
The Girtablilu glared at their alien mistress, who continued shouting unintelligible commands. Ignoring her, they scuttled slowly forward, raising their mantis-like forearms aggressively as they did. The last things King heard before allowing the darkness to take him were the strange alien screams and the sound of rending flesh.
It was a good way to for King to die.