Mercy Of The Worm

Kelmin Artoran walked the streets of the capitol Primar Verdantus. The systems dual stars, the Twin Sisters, had melted away the thin clouds of early morning and now the warm summer air breezed through his long brown hair, sending his locks waving like a sea of gleaming silk. Kelmin closed his eyes and looked skyward, the warmth of the Sister’s gaze feeling like a soft touch on his stubbled cheeks. He opened his eyes.

Through the sandy canopy of buildings above him, the sky was deep blue, like the oceans and seas of the planet Verdantus. The capitol of Primar Verdantus was located on the largest and most western continent of the Verdantus four, where the summers seemed to last a lifetime. This warm and dry climate had allowed for rugged yet elegant greenery to thrive. Some towered far above the squared sandstone buildings of Primar Verdantus, with giant leaves offering up much needed shade beneath the Twin Sisters endless stare. Most animal species relied on these shading giants to survive the everlasting heat, and any cover provided soon became an ecosystem of its own.

It seemed very ironic to Kelmin that a planet named after its supposed verdant landscape had its early politicians crown the capitol in such a harsh environment.

The drag located in the center of the capitol was abustle with life. For as long as the eye could see, the cobblestone walkways were dotted with local market vendors, street performers and carts being pulled by massive, domesticated insectoids, Shaderunners, aptly named as it was said that they adored the Twins gaze so much that they avoided any type of cover from the giant palms. Swarming around the vendors were the people of Primar Verdantus, swathing through streets, disappearing into shops or restaurants. The city was alive and well, but not all was right.

Kelmin dropped his right hand to his waist and fingered his Verdant Defense badge to make sure it was still there, a habit that had developed from his deep seeded anxieties – most of which blossomed from the deep when he started his career. He traced the crest with his thumb through his thin linen trench coat, slowly following the shape of the Sand Rose coat of arms of the Verdant Defense Agency, the of which rest against a medieval shield, an iconic defensive tool from an ancient time.

As Kelmin watched the antlike behavior of the thousands of citizens wandering the strip, the weight of his task and the situations evolving on the other three continents of Verdantus seemed to suffocate him like some inhuman desert heat. He exhaled and gazed down at the dusty cobble stones, glossily shining in the sun, freshly polished by the street droids the night before. He could just barely see his fractured reflection mirrored in the stones, and it was scared. A sudden gust kicked his coat up and the sounds of it buckling and flapping in the wind broke the spell of glossy cobblestones, and he headed toward his destination.

He lifted his left hand and glanced at the yellow illuminated navdisplay, which marked his location with a pulsing green dot and mapped out the area around him for miles, from the largest street vendor stall to the tiniest shrub breaking though lesser maintained cobblestone, the navdisplay was one of the most advanced technologies available to the Verdant Defense Agency, updating his surroundings in real time. He was still a mile away from his marked destination, which took him away from the chaos of the main drag.

As Kelmin cut through the tight corridors and alleyways of a small residential district he played the reports from the other continents over in his head, preparing him for what he might find. The sounds of laughter rang from an apartment above him, and the sweet smells of afternoon food prep filled the air. The sound of clinking glasses followed by cheers from a street level patio caused him to stop and glance over his shoulder. The people had no idea what was happening – the government had made sure of that.

Several weeks ago, the orbital defense scans had picked up a small asteroid headed toward Verdantus’ orbit. The navy had deemed the asteroid a non-issue due to its size, citing that it would burn up in orbit due to its velocity and small mass. After monitoring its descent, the navy operators reported that the asteroid had broken into four smaller masses and seemingly intelligently corrected course to each of the four continents of the planet. Extraction crews were sent to the estimated landing sites of all four of the asteroid splits, but no matter, material or biological, was discovered at the crash sites.

Since then, reports have flooded from across the world about the spread of sickness and rot, all of which had turned any of the afflicted to madness. The VDA stationed in Primar Verdantus had scrambled several defense groups to the other three continents for support, the most southern continent, Subdantus, having lost all communication with the VDA headquarters in the capitol. A state of emergency for all regulatory and defense forces had been silently sounded, but the general population had no idea what had transpired over the last days.

Kelmin rounded a corner and his navdisplay chirped into his earpiece, indicating he was within 500 meters of his destination, he emerged from the residential district and headed down the main street that exited the city. Ahead of him, the unkept sands of the desert began to encroach into the unkept cobblestone streets, like a slow dry mold attempting to creep into the heart of the city. His sun-bleached boots sunk into the softening steps as more and more of the neglected street was swallowed by the desert.

He was now at the haggard entranceway to a small ranch, if you could even call it that. He attempted to push a screeching and rusted sandsteel gate open, but it barely moved. The gate continued to groan as if in pain as he put his full weight into it, finally awkwardly knocking it ajar, and continued his sinking advance toward an old barn to the right of a small, windswept residence. The sandstone edges of the buildings had once been sharp and cornered, but the endless breath of the desert had rounded and dulled any former presence of its former architecture.

Kelim’s navdisplay gave a warning in his ear one final time as he knocked on the door of the barn. He took several steps back from the doorway and let his left hand slide to his standard VGA blaster on his hip. The cool steel of the weapon felt soothing on his fingertips and for a moment Kelmin was at ease, but then the door creaked open. A grey bearded old man in tattered and stained linens stood and smiled a yellow toothed smile at Kelmin, his dark skin just as windswept as the rest of his ranch.

“Greetings young man, are you the veterinarian?” he said with a smirk, “Here to save my old girl form her pains?”

Kelmin responded, “Unfortunately I am no veterinarian, I am Kelmin Artoran with the Verdant Defense Agency. I specialize in investigating infection diseases, would it be from man or beast. I understand that you reported a sickness in one of your Shaderunners, may I have a look?”

“Well of course young man, I would love for you to take a look at Old Bittsy for me. Another set of eyes from a specialist like yourself could never hurt!” he said enthusiastically with a wave of his hand, beckoning Kelmin in. The man turned and disappeared into the darkened bowels of the barn and left the door open for Kelmin to follow.

For a second, Kelmin wondered if he should turn back. If he should report back to his superiors that all was clear, that sending him to investigate a Shaderunner with a stomach ache was a waste of valuable VGA resources, especially in a time like now. He felt a hot bead of sweat roll down his temple to his cheeks, becoming entrapped in the stubble of his beard. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. The heat never made him sweat, the pit in his stomach and his increased heartrate were playing havoc with his body’s heat regulation. He followed the man into the barn.

The barn was just as worn on the inside as it was the outside. The thick verdantpalm rafters supported the sandstone husk of the building. Sandsteel ranch tools were either sporadically hanging from makeshift hooks or tossed onto what was left of sandy floorboards. Beams of light shot through patchy tinted windows like godly arrays illuminating the location of some holy treasure against walls and floor alike. In the far corner of the rectangular barn was a large stall made for housing livestock, which was much better kept than the rest of the building. The old man stood in the entrance to the stall with his back to Kelmin, he looked over his shoulder and silently waved Kelmin to come closer.

As Kelmin approached, the grainy floorboards creaked and hissed under his footsteps, but as he neared the mouth of the stall and came to stand beside the old rancher, he realized the hissing was not from the floorboards at all.

Against the fading stone back wall of the stall, a large Shaderunner lay on its side amongst dried verdantpalm leaves and other dried desert plants. The giant insectoid had a large lower torso with six legs, a smaller torso with two arm like appendages and a head with four antenna, two large blackened eyes and four large flattened pincers – perfect for rooting through and grinding up the desert fauna of western Verdantus.

As the beast breathed slow, labored breaths, its exhales hissed and gurgled. Although the Shaderunner had no eyelids, Kemlin could somehow see the light in the blackened eyes had gone out. It was either in a deep sleep or near death.

“How long has she been like this?” Kemlin asked.

“Old Bittsy was fine two sundowns ago, then suddenly stopped responding to all commands, affection or food.” The man said sadly, “It took the last of her strength and mine to get her into the stall. She has been like this for the last day or so.”

Kemlin continued to probe, “Have you noticed any strange behaviors up to her collapse? Any injuries?”

The man seemed to perk up when Kemlin mentioned injuries and pointed a long nailed finger to the Shaderunners lower torso, “She has a small cut under her middle-left leg,” he said, “you can see that is still not quite healed.”

The two men approached the labored hissing beast, with the old man taking the lead, kneeling within a foot of Bettsy. He said nothing but pointed at the cut on the underbelly of the insectoid. As Kemlin drew closer, he nearly had to cover his mouth and nose from the stench. The unhealed wound was leaking a blackened pus, and flies had begun to divebomb and buzz about the infection. Then the wound pulsed and bulged.

Kemlin took a disgusting step back, “What in the Twin’s name is that…”

Suddenly obsidian stinking pus sprayed from the wound as it erupted open. A circle of jagged yellow teeth ate its way out of the underbelly of the Shaderunner and a pale and wriggling worm plopped onto the dead vegetation of the stall with a wet thud. The worm lay still for a moment, but the screams of the old rancher seemed to shock it into life, and it sprung at the withered man with surprising speed, razorsharp teeth hooking and ripping at the man’s throat. His screams slowed and gurgled as the worm wriggled with pleasure as it began feasting on fresh meat.

Kemlin’s trembling hands shook free his blaster and he began firing without aiming. Several laser bolts sprayed toward the dead and the executioner, one bolt sizzled against the floorboards, igniting the dried vegetation. Another smoldered against the dead Shaderunners carapace, but the last found its mark. The third bolt clipped the tail of the feasting white worm, sending the stench of frying flesh into the air and causing the plague worm to release its disgusting grip on the deceased rancher’s neck. It reared its open mouth skyward in pain and turned its flesh dripping jaws towards Kemlin. Although it had no eyes, Kemlin knew he was seen.

Kemlin’s blaster pistol display flashed red to green, signaling to him that the batteries had cooled and it was operational again. But it was too late. The maggot tensed to launch itself at its new prey and Kemlin began to let the blaster bolts fly, but they all missed.

Kemlin was knocked backwards and stumbled out of the livestock stall, which was now beginning to smoke as the ignited vegetation began to catch. His breath was knocked from him as his back hit the ground, and he felt an immense pressure on his stomach. He dropped his blaster and instinctively grabbed for his torso and screamed as his hands were met with the slick surface of the worm, now engorged on his stomach. He felt teeth tear through fat and muscle as his hands slipped and scratched at the worm, but he felt no pain.

His hands dropped to his side defeatedly, and he stared blankly at the darkened crevasses of the sandsteel rafters. He did not feel pain as the worm’s toxins worked grotesquely to keep its prey alive as it buried itself deeper into its host. Kemlin felt his mind fading, he was losing control, but he was still aware of what was happening. His arm twitched and dropped to the exposed VDA badge on his belt, his thumb was slick with blood and worm mucus, but he was still able to trace the Sand Rose sigil one last time.

The man Kelmin Artoran’s last thought was the people of Primar Verdantus bustling through the drag, and how he had failed them.

Slowly, the Verdantus Defense Agent got to his feet, except it was no longer he. The hole in the walking corpses stomach had grotesquely sealed itself and dripped a black pus. It stumbled out of the barn and into the hot sun, disgusting boils beginning to form under uniform and coat, muscle erupting from skin.

As the poxed cadaver of Kelmin Artoran wandered from the desert ranch and made footfall onto the sandy cobblestone street of Primar Verdantus, laugher could be heard in the distance. The corpse twitched and snarled as its new host continued to meld into nervous systems and tissue – a fate worse than death. Or was it?

The soul and mind of Kelmin Artoran was no more, and he was spared knowing he had doomed the world he was meant to save.