Alien Pain
The darkness is pleasing.
The rains left, though the sky still rood heavy across the sky, filled with rain yet unfallen, Amidst the breeches of sunlight, shadows danced and played a merry game of chase and stalk, much like the children of the people of Hands did, from my perch where I observed in simple dark. They were pleasing to observe, amusing to study - for they ran along the fields, though well away from the tall, ancient wood that surrounded their small, forgotten colony. Here Emm and I waited, basking in the radiating heat - for it filled us with energy we did not have to burn from stored calories
He laid his head upon my back, and I coiled my tail about his spine - gripping and squeezing him, and keeping him held against me, possessive about him as I had about any proper care. He held no thoughts upon my fascination with the dark and pink mammals that were prominent in the cleared fields, no, my safety and my womb were his only concerns, but a male is simple like that. I did not begrudge him for his simple mind, nor did he fight me in my exploration and learning of my territories. A male did not fight a female, nor a praetorian his queen.
Between them, they kicked a ball back and forth through the fields, their grunts coming out in a 'hu-hu-hu' sound. I had heard it before in the dream, mirthful a sound, but rarely heard by our species. In their amusement. The sphere they booted between themselves rebounded powerfully, and from this distance I could pick their scents on the winds that played through the air. Rubber, Meat, Sweat and Hair, youth sweet and healthy, healthy for the future young that would feed my young and provide the material for future growth.
It pleased me, from crest to flanges, and made my second jaws salivate. Good meat.
It was dark in the tree I laid upon, dark, my black chitin hiding me against the dark browns and greens, and the ever present moss that hung from every small branch and large cluster. It was choking at times, the scent wet and mildew, when not competing with the other living scents throughout the jungle. And in the dark, I observed my future prey, they coming closer and closer, until a wide kick sent their sphere hurtling through the air, and ricocheting off the trees, into the dark and quiet cold beneath my tree.
I crept down slowly, to a lower branch, earning a disgruntled grunt from Emm, who wanted only for me to stay put, and provide him a rest for his chin. I ignored him - and lowered down another branch, now thirty feet from the sphere, and watched the prey come near, young short, small, and scented like Hands had - male. Smaller than Hands, it was not much of a threat as it searched for the ball - calling out in the grunts for them to join.
"Where is it? Where'd it go? Mom will be mad!"
I crept lower - the sphere giving a pungent scent, and I wound my way down the tree in a quiet dance, letting the weight distribute across the face of the old growth. It gave no protest, as I crept closer, closer to the ball, towards the prize, as small feet hurried closer, a tap tap tap of rubber on wood and soil. Voices called, shouting for him to hurry. I crept closer, drooling wetly from the second mouth, hungry. So very hungry of the sudden.
Hands grabbed the toy and I froze - ten feet high, still, silent, even my tail holding stock still. The youthful creature bouncing the toy once with a yell that he had got it - and I felt myself tense to leap upon him. The urge came quick, but I stopped myself, before leaping and bringing death upon myself and my plans for the future of myself, and my tribe. I drooled down and crept back behind the wood to hide from any potential view, and slowly crept up, defeated. Emm was silently amused, earning him a bite on the flanks. He did not protest, merely coiled me with his tail and let me sulk.
I wanted that damn sphere.
The rains began to fall, and I relaxed into the quiet comfort of my ruins - where the vines covered and provided camouflage, the shadows danced deep and I could gather warmth from the deeper veins that hid themselves low into the yielding earth. In a lower chamber, open to a grand arch and hanging with growing mushrooms that glowed with a faint radiance, a patch of plants grew near my nesting spot, providing a comforting radiance which warmed me ever so slightly, and it let me sink deep into the restful dreams, while I felt myself expand and grow inside, at the center of my womb.
The eggs shifted. Soon, I would begin the colony. Soon, I would splay my cloaca and lay the heated life, growing for neigh three months inside. Soon, soon - I would become more. I knew a moment of dread and fear inside, and ran my claws nervously along a bone which had laid in the ruins, a favored gift I had the pleasure of knowing. I stroked it, feeling the pain growing inside of my belly, and filling all of myself. I exhaled sharp, and my second jaws clenched with my first, making me shudder. It was painful, the growth, the growing, the changing.
Such was the life of the queen. The ancient ones had grown great hives from their bodies, becoming one, stretching themselves with it, and spreading great egg-sacs from their body. I was different, and I would feel the pain of each laying, not as a release and swell of growth, but worse, as each child passed from my womb, an egg laid with a promised future, to guard zealously. I knew this, from how my body danced and changed. I knew this, because I could see the growth inside of me. I was not as the ancient ones, I was smaller, faster, the size of a drone with the fierceness of a queen.
Was I meant to be?
It did not matter, such questions were for lesser creatures. Such questions were not for me to answer, as I felt the eggs shift, and I crawled forward to stretch my legs, and regard the nest that grew, not from growth and life and ichors kissed flesh, but in dirt and stone and glowing plant life. It was new, I was new, and I would herald a new growth of my line, the lineage of the great queens.
I moved, brushing my male to his back, and straddled him, nestling into him, touching my face to his own and biting possessively at his neck. He was the nest, in me grew his young, and his seed was cherished in my belly. The genetic changes would be many, the breeding would only add strength, with changes, with the incarnations of our young. I held his face with my claws and traced the mark in his brow, then exhaled sharply over his face. Mine. Mine. Mine.
He didn't comprehend. He didn't understand. His mind was not like my mind - he was focused upon me, to serve and guard me, and the hive. He was built for it, from the countless legacies of past warriors made bold. His mind was not made for the long reaching plans, but I did not want him any different than he was. He was not as fragile as Hands had been, he was not as noisy either. He did not question, or speak, or commune with me.
It was on a much deeper level. He held his attention in submissive silence, as I bite his throat and chest and jaw - tasting him. I tasted meat and drool and the past on him, and I chased away a line of caked dust and dirt with a kiss. My claws scratched belly and chest and along his slender crest. Were I slain, his duty would become to follow my line - and he would have used the last of his seed to begin anew the cycle. Would he miss me? Would he care? His duty was to the hive, as mine was to the species. Was I more than that? Such questions plagued me for as long as a drop of rain might fall, before I dismissed it, and all of them from my mind. It did not matter what could be, or could have been. I would work to ensure the survival, and when I was past, I was past. What mattered was the fact he was mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Dare any queen try to take him, usurper greater than I, or strains more numerous. He was mine, and mine alone. I owned him, and as I had hungered to possess the noisy bouncing sphere, I had him. I let him know it - with another bite, and a grind of our tails together, tightening, pressing, squeezing. He did not resist, and his scent changed to something quite pleasant.
He was mine. He knew it. He would not have it any other way.
The rain did not halt for many hours. It thundered high above in an angry cacophony of nervous energy, the clouds pregnant and willing to give their gift to the thick old-growth that surrounded the ruins, and it provided me with a rhythmic sound that echoed ever deep in the long dug tomb. I slid from the dark corridors, through the slackened mud and ascended up old, crumbling steps, to mount a risen pillar, and leap into the trees. My claws dug into yielding wood and I pulled myself high, to patrol and work away stressful energy, a nervousness about what grew deep inside.
I drew myself up to another branch and crept through, hungry, though hunting had been good - the beasts had been lenient in giving their life. I had eaten several days past, but more was never rejected - and I crept through the trees, leaping branch to branch, and crept through the endless plant life. I was content in the pleasant tingle of chill rain that cooled an ever hot body. I splayed my jaw and raised my crest, and let it run down me, washing the dirt and blood and stains from my slick chitin. A sigh, a breath, a contented sound, I caught a drop of rain on my second jaw, and let it spill down my throat and across my neck and against my smooth marked chest.
I was pleased. I was happy. I grabbed a branch and pulled up higher, and crept slow and quiet through the tangle that I came across, and down another tree, hanging upside down and letting the acidic blood rush through my brain. I tingled, and then kicked, leaping and swinging onto another branch to pull myself up, and found myself above a curious sight.
I had crept for a span of the storm, and below me, I found a pathway through the jungle I had not spotted before. It was not a pathway of dirt and prey, but of the same rough pavement which seemed to resemble the stonework of my temple. It was felt through the kiss of rain and whisper of sound. I crawled down the wood and approached it - tapped it, stroked a claw across the top. It was the same cut stone, jagged from the wear and tear of the ages, but lead away from my temple. I followed it, moving at a swift lope - my claws the only skittering sound heard as I moved quick.
And then I was falling - stepping wrong on a stone, which twisted beneath me and gave a loud crack. The ground gave way, and I fell long into a pit - bouncing sharply off the slanted earth and stone and gnarled root, and feeling a savage pain echo through my brain. I was bleeding - the acidic hiss spilling down from a radiating crack in my crest, and still I fell.
I bounced again, again, a third time still more, until coming to a halt and skidding, scratching myself bitterly along the belly and thighs. I skid to a halt, and my face smooshed into the wall, mud coating my front. I grimaced, and hissed and swung my tail irritably. I was angry, with none to take my wrath out on. I was very angry.
Angry, and in pain, which continued to drip itself down my face and over my neck, leaking into the dirt, which hissed, and bleeding through a root. I slowly dragged myself up and felt my rear limb buckle under me, dropping me to the earth again. I dug my chrome claws into the ground and drug myself up, and again tried to stand. Painful, it was painful. Very painful.
I pulled myself up and hissed, shaking myself out with an angry hiss, and tremendous snarl. I was crippled, and I was not happy with it. Limping through the mud, I grabbed for any purchase I could, my long claws peeling mud away. Water was building up, and I was not afraid of drowning, but I did not want to waste my time waiting.
Of course, I didn't have much choice.
And then my blood ran cold. A painful keening spilled through my senses, and I scrambled across the earth, through the water that touched to my thigh, to the painful crack that ran down a leg. The pain was nothing compared to the agonized scream that ran through my mind, through the senses, through my self. It called for me, as I grabbed at the walls and pulled, attempting to climb with tail and a good leg, to fall back and splash, and sink. I leapt and lunged, the lip ten feet above me - and it would take nearly the entire day to escape from my prison as the water rose.
My blood ran sour - as the waves of fear and warning shot through my senses, that we were under attack, and again I pulled up - flashes ricocheting through my head. I could not feel the hot agony of pain, but the cold trembles that spilled through my bowels. I had to move, I had to go, I had to defend the hive!
He called to me. As I again, and again dug - gaining a moment of leverage before spilling back, and snarling. I breathed the water as I did air, spat it from me, and felt it sooth the ache at my broken crest and cracked leg. I clawed futilely, then sank back, letting the water lick my jaws, and wash the drool from my fangs. No, I was forced to wait, trapped, held from my goal, from the comfort of Emm, from being with him to face the sudden threats.
I felt the turmoil, the rage, the claws on stone, and the hiss of her on the edge of my being - the usurper, the black empress who challenged me for what was mine. I felt here there, at him, at his throat, against him, demanding him. He called to me, and I reached for him, for escape, and felt it - my claws grasping as I gave a powerful, painful leap, and leapt to grasp the stones and earth. One fell, but it was enough to grip and pull myself up. I hurt to do so, and hurried, as fast as a cracked leg and painful join would let me. I lunged, hunting the threat to brood and hive.
And as I crested a rise of earth and worked stone, and gazed down upon the face of my temple, I felt him cry out once for me, a cry that knocked me from my lope to stumble onto my belly and forelimbs, I felt him go quiet, no longer at the edge of my senses. It was a blow, colder than the void and more keen than the jagged pain along my leg and hip, and it left me bereft of everything that had been mine. Through a bleary haze that subsumed my being, and pulled at me, trying to drown me, I witnessed the shapes of the Usurper Hive, who left, their work completed.
They did not see me amidst the growing plants, for I was low, to the earth, and clawing at the ground feebly. They did not hear or scent me, too distant, but I saw them, unable to move with the shudders of his death paining through me. To be robbed of what was mine, the other half of my hive and the male who had given my eggs life, it was telling, stinging, excruciating. My crown was broken and my hive was sundered. I was alone.
Alone again, in the cold and rain, away from the whispers of hive and future bonds.
I was the last of Zee Hive.