Disclaimer:
Oddworld belongs to Oddworld Inhabitants. The creature known as a Silox belongs to me. :3
BOOK ONE: Static
CHAPTER TWO: An Interesting Intrusion
"Someone bring me that cart! NOW! DO IT!" The hoarse voice of Lady Margaret was full of malice as she barked orders out to the sligs surrounding her. They sprinted away towards the corner of the massive room - or at least the platform they were on - and grabbed the cart. "WILL YOU HURRY UP?!" hissed Margaret, straining. "I CAN'T STOP IT THIS TIME!"
The slig that had grabbed it shoved it forward, towards the hind end of the great Glukkon Queen. The slig fell in the process, hitting the solid concrete floor with a grunt. The cart slid right under the queen just as the egg slid out. It landed on the cushion with a soft plop, and was largely unharmed. Another slig grabbed the cart just as the egg hit it, panting with effort, and stopped it.
"Whoo!" he heaved, wiping his tentacles nervously. Overhead, Lady Margaret roared her impatience.
"YOU IDIOTS! YOU NEARLY LOST THAT ONE. BUMBLING FOOLS. GET ME POX ON THE FONE AT ONCE!"
The slig that had initially pushed the cart towards the egg was now off again - they were a bit short on staff, and right now he was the go-to guy and the cart-handler. He hurried for the fone, and quickly looked up the number, dialing it frantically.
"Uh.. yeah.. this Pox?! This is Lady Margaret's Hatchery." he asked in his nasaly voice, shivering at the growling, ragged breaths of the queen above him. "NO I'm not Lady Margaret! Well get 'im on the fone, yer lazy asswipe! Hurry up!" He attempted to sound commanding in spite of the panicked air in his tone.
Shuffling, then - "Yeah whaddaya want?!"
"This is Lady Margaret's Hatchery. I think uh... the Lady wants to talk to yers." The slig peered up at the massive she-Glukkon, her painted lips, yellowed with cigarette smoke, were peeled backwards in a deadly, terrifying grimace. Her menacing, long-fingered hand would reach out for the fone, and the slig handed it to her timidly.
"Pox," growled Lady Margaret, voice scarcely above a whipser. "I have heard you have a plan for fixing our little... problem. So tell me what it is."
Pox, who was leaning forward into the fone, held up to him by a slig, grimaced.
"Well," he said slowly, "We're gonna send down some troops to come and steal the queen back, and exterminate whatever Muds are in our way, mom."
Lady Margaret thought about this. However, her grimace did not fade.
"In order to do that you're going to need more troops than what you currently have. I like this plan." Her grimace would shift into a thoughtful, grim smile. A smile that sent chills up the observing sligs' spines.
"Well uh.. we got a few Big Bros around he--"
"That WON'T BE ENOUGH." Lady Margaret almost snarled. "You recall a decade before when a SINGLE Mudokon infiltrated and destroyed multiple factories? Now imagine what hundreds can do - especially defending their queen. No no no," she said, calming. "You are going to enlist the Vykkers."
On the other end, Pox shuddered.
"The Vykkers in lab #027 have been training someone who will function as their commander. I am going to contact them, and then you two will set up a meeting and work things out from there."
Click.
Pox's mouth was open, and his cigar had fallen from his mouth before he'd realized it - Lady Margaret had hung up on him. He fought back the growl that rose in his throat, and the slig immediately dropped the fone to reach for the cigar. However, Pox refused it, and waddled off towards his office window, peering down at his employees with a grimace.
Meanwhile, Lady Margaret informed her slig servant to get hold of the Vykkers Underground unit #027. He did so, grudgingly.
To the slig's disgust, someone answered the phone.
"Mmmf mm?"
"Get me someone that can talk, yer stinkin' Intern!"
"Mmm!? Mmmf mmf mmfmfmfmm!" Came the angry voice. And then, in the background, he heard something else.
"Toast, GET OFF THE FONE. I TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER IT YOU MORON!"
The slig blinked behind his mask. Lady Margaret, who could also hear the commotion, looked largely annoyed.
There was a strange sound, and then, the creepy Vykker voice made itself known on the phone.
"Yes, who is it?"
"This is Lady Margaret's Gluk Hatchery, and the Lady wishes ta speak with one of yers," said the slig, irritated.
"Well, this is Philip, Head of Live Weapons Research. Put 'er on."
Lady Margaret snatched the earpiece from the slig's hand and growled.
"Alright, you said you had a commander? CEO Pox has agreed to go through with the mission. I expect you two to figure out how you're going to do this, report back to me when you're finished. I want to hear the plan."
Philip frowned on the other end, fiddling with the fone cord with his long, clawlike fingers.
"Mmmhm, we have someone who would be perfect for the job. However!" Came his voice. "Remember that we are responsible for keeping your grandmother, Maggie, cryogenically frozen. Should any plans fail we will have to inform her. You know that."
Lady Margaret, in all of her terrifying splendor, faltered for a moment, fingers gripping her cigarette like a deadly vice.
"I understand this." The Glukkon queen used a great deal of effort to keep her voice clear and unfaltering. The slig beneath her cocked his head to one side. "What do you suggest then?"
"I'm no expert in politics, hun," said Philip idly, "But if I were you I'd give 'em an ultimatum for good measure."
"An ULTIMATUM?" snarled Lady Margaret, teeth bared dangerously.
"I didn't say you had to FOLLOW THROUGH with it. But look at it this way, toots. If ya tell her she's got a certain number of days to give herself up or you'll come get 'er yerselves," Philip said smoothly. "You take those days to prepare, we got a chance to avoid exterminating a VALUABLE SOURCE OF LABOR." His last words were insisting.
Lady Margaret's face went perfectly smooth. "Understood. Excellent idea. I'll inform Pox and have him write it up immediately." Click.
Philip, on the other end, rolled his eyes and returned to barking out orders to the Intern named Toast.
----~----
It was a small apartment; smaller than most Vykkers would live comfortably in. It had its own laboratory, fuzzle cage room, and living area as well. Philip and Francis Vykker rarely complained about personal space anyway, and weren't really in the living area too often. Said living area consisted of three rooms - a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom.
Philip and Francis rarely slept, except on what they referred to as special occasions. During those special occasions, the other two occupants in the apartment made sure to clear out. The other Vykkers inhabiting the ship knew what it meant when they wandered around aimlessly together. Either a) they were out causing trouble or b) Philip and Francis were destroying the name of any sensible Vykker.
"You don't have to pitch a fit all day, do you?" The strange-looking creature asked Toast, who was surfing the internet. "Well, at least get something for your speedo collection - might make you feel better."
You could say she resembled a canine in the vaguest of senses. To be honest, she seemed to be a closer relative to a dragon or a kangaroo than a dog. At nearly ten feet tall the Silox stood, on a single, massive leg. Her tail, extending nearly as long as her own body, was equally thick, and she leaned on it for support as she studied what Toast was looking at. She did not seem to have a true upper lip at all, but a bony set of protrusions along her muzzle that vaguely resembled pointed teeth, the largest of which were right at the front. She seemed to have no color to her dark eyes at all, which remained slightly squinted as she studied the screen. The rest of her was quite slender, but she was by no means soft and pretty. She had horns all along a crest along her head, while two seemingly soft ears dangled behind her head, hanging down near her waist. Standing taller than her Vykker parents, the Silox was still quite a mystery to them.
"Achsah, quit staring at the computer!" a rather feminine voice echoed, "You'll ruin your eyes."
Achsah lifted her head, long tongue flicking out to lick at one of her eyes. The eye blinked to absorb the moisture as she stared at the Vykker poking its head into the open room.
"Heh, sorry, Mom." Achsah was not really sorry, but it seemed to satisfy the makeup-wearing Vykker.
"And your father wishes to see you. It's time for your checkup," the Vykker added, before disappearing. The Vykker wore an apron from the waist down. It fluttered in the breeze the Vykker created as he passed.
Achsah rolled her eyes and left Toast to his work. A few hops and she was into the lab room, which had been temporarily switched into a checkup room. She couldn't help but feel a small shudder as she studied the rusty tools openly resting on the stainless steel table. Nothing was really clean, but Achsah knew they weren't going to hurt her - much anyway.
Philip the Vykker saw no need to wear gloves. Generally, whatever he was working on was not worth any extra expense such as gloves. Besides, it was rare to find a glove he didn't rip apart with his claws. Sure, they could create them, patent them - but why? Vykkers saw no need for gloves, so no one would buy them. He had his back to his patient, who had heaved herself up onto the operating table and was staring at him boredly.
"Alright..." Philip began, approaching her and attaching a blood pressure cuff to her arm, "The time has come for your previous training to be put to the test!"
Achsah's ears pricked up and she listened eagerly.
"Your training is not yet complete, but as of now the Magog Cartel has decided that they no longer wish to follow the contract originally drawn out between the Mudokon barbarians and themselves."
Achsah, thanks to her surrogate parents, was always keeping up with the news. She loved watching the Magog on the March especially. It was Toast who generally didn't care about these events, but she often made him watch it anyway. She knew all too well about that contract, although she had been a pup when that had occurred. She didn't have the facial muscles to smile, but the softer tissue beneath her eye rose, giving her a slight amused expression.
"This means," continued Philip, "That you are going to play a large role in this. In fact, if all goes well, you will be promoted to commander of our armed forces if we end up going to war."
"A-all of them!?" Achsah stammered. "Are you sure I'm qualified for that?"
"Of course," said Philip. "It was I who recommended you."
For much of Achsah's life, it was her 'mother', Francis, who did most of the raising. Her father was generally very busy, so spending time with him was rare. When Philip removed the cuff, she clapped her hands together excitedly.
Philip swung around to face her and growled, "Which means there will be none of that! The next week for you is going to be hell, but when you come out, you'll be the perfect little spy!"
Achsah would've grinned. She could've gotten facial reconstructive surgery, but Achsah liked her appearance far too much.
"Now then, Achsah, you WILL take Toast with you." He ignored Achsah's glower at him. "He's driving me absolutely batty!"
Achsah groaned, "Whyyyyyy!? It's not fair! You know Toast isn't cut out for survival out there!"
In the other room, Toast had just made his purchase for a matching camouflage speedo and drill cap. He glanced behind him, hearing all too well what the Silox and Vykker were saying about him. He refocused his eyes to the computer, shoulders rather tense. Normally, he had his headphones on, blocking out any outside sounds. But one of the earpieces had begun to bother him, and he had taken his headphones off to adjust them. Being much older than she was, he felt a strange sense of anger build up within him. Why would she say that about her godparent? The one that had REALLY done all the work in raising her? It made him wonder what else she'd said about him in the past. It was true; he probably wouldn't have lasted a week - or even a day.
"I don't care - you're going to need someone else with you and Francis will probably skin me alive! And I'm certainly not going to do it. Urinalysis time."
Achsah was inwardly seething. She snatched the container out of his left set of hands and hopped off to another room.
This was always something Achsah didn't understand. Maybe Philip was so thorough in his tests and checkups with her because it was his way of showing he cared. But so far, he seemed like every other Vykker. It was more likely that he was making sure she was healthy enough to perform the tasks set out for her. He didn't stop referring to her as a 'specimen' until her sixth year. But then again, Achsah knew Philip wasn't all bad - he'd attempted to bond with her (likely at Francis' isisting) by taking her in the lab with him. Amidst the screaming of the Fuzzles, Achsah finally felt total acceptance.
Now that she was sixteen years old, she was an adult, and helped with much of everything. She assisted Philip and Francis in the lab, and when Francis felt the need to cook, she was in there to help and wash dishes. When Toast couldn't lift up a heavy box, she was there to bark at him until he found the motivation to do so. This wasn't to say that Achsah wasn't a troublemaker, oh no. For Achsah, the world had been full of things to explore and people to annoy, with Toast chasing her down the whole way. For the Vykkers - and other Interns - she'd been nothing but a nuisance.
Like the time she crept up on Toast in his sleep and got caught trying to steal his speedo. When he finally woke up, she was working it off of his other ankle. Francis and Philip peered out of the lab to see Achsah come crashing out of Toast's closet, with the Intern chasing after her in the nude.
But life wasn't always fun. She also remembered when she was old enough to understand just why her parents were different from the rest of the Vykkers in the underground lab. She'd witnessed her adoptive parents before a Vykkers council, and the strange, negative feelings. Her ears, incredibly sharp, could pick up the others whispering about her parents, about what an abomination they were. The normal Vykker knew no such things as love. The normal Vykker was cold, calculating, tolerating one another out of sheer necessity. But she had never seen anyone as friendly as her parents were to one another. While most Vykkers cast off empathy and love, her parents were almost doting to one another. It filled her with a sense of hatred for the other Vykkers, especially since Francis had insisted she should keep her mouth shut and do nothing.
Achsah returned from the other room, handing her father the container.
"So are we done yet?" she asked, rather irritable.
"Yes, yes yes, fine." Philip grunted. "Francis said she was working on setting up your training appointment, so go find her."
Irritated, Achsah hopped away to go find her 'mother'*.
----~----
Vula was thankful she'd arrived to bring tea to Casey when she had. The Mudokon queen was much calmer after that. Vula never asked Alf exactly what was in that tea, but it was perfect for relaxation and even Vula herself took a sip now and then when the stress got to her. Once Casey had calmed considerably, Vula made sure everything was in order before heading out once more. It was time to see another old friend.
Tom ignored the sweat beginning to collect on his brow as he hurriedly scribbed the note onto a piece of parchment. His glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them back up with a finger before continuing.
"Come on come on," he whispered, glancing back at the scroll he had written from. A glance outside, then back to the scroll. "HA!" He put down the feather pen he was writing with and rolled up the scroll, stuffing it back into the hollow book he'd produced it from and shoved it back on the shelf. The parchment he folded up and put into a sack over his shoulder. Finally ready to go, he hurried for the door of his hut and pulled aside the curtain.
To his surprise, Vula had her hand inches from his door knocker. Upon seeing him, there was a pause, and she dropped her hand.
"Tom! How's it.. where are you going?" she asked, eyeing the bag over his shoulder.
"Can't talk right now, I have to go, I'm terribly sorry." He nodded his head to her and hurried away.
"But wait it's...." Her shout went unanswered and she slumped, "...Kind of important. Gee thanks." She'd been about to walk away, but a glance behind her gave her an idea. "Well, he didn't say I couldn't find it myself."
Vula had her sights set on the various books and scrolls Tom kept in his hut. Thanks to Tom, many of the natives had learned basic reading and writing, although most had been against the idea from the start. Vula's reading skills were lacking, but she could make out many words - those she'd learned in RuptureFarms and besides. Still, as she used the spooce-powered lantern to examine the spines of said books, she found many words that she had never heard before.
The Anatomy of Elum by N. Testin Altract. No, not that one. A History of Mudos, by Nyf Ynderback. That one might work. The Housewives of Nolybab by Francine Vykker. Why on Odd would he have that? Vula, in a moment of distracted curiosity, snatched the book. Who could trust the Vykkers these days? She set the book on the table, alongside A History of Mudos. There was another book titled Abe's Oddysee, that Tom had written himself and was published. She took that one as well.
Seating herself at his desk, she opened Abe's Oddysee and flipped through it. It even contained a forward that Abe had contributed. Vula remembered when Tom had proposed to Abe about writing the book, saying it might help the world see just what RuptureFarms and the Glukkons were really up to. That book had backfired however, and not long after being put on the shelves, the Glukkon Queen had gotten hold of it and quickly had it destroyed. Every copy found was burned, and for weeks on end Glukkons began feeding lies to the general public, stating that the book was actually written by an animal rights organization and was meant to be propaganda. The Khanzumers fell for it, and while nothing happened to Tom, every other publisher closed their doors to him. The last copy was one he'd kept himself. Vula couldn't read most of it, but she already knew the story.
But there was no origin of the prophecy. Vula could not find who had written it. Had Tom been there, he might have been able to tell her. Had Big Face written it? Had it merely been made up and the entire Mud race, falling for it, created a series of events that ... no, Vula, don't think like that, you'll just confuse yourself. She put the book aside.
"A History of M-Mudos," she read out loud. "How about you?"
She hadn't gotten past the first page when she shut it again. It was all huge words, no pictures, and no dialogue.
"Ugh, this is going to be harder than I thought." Her eyes caught the last book. "Tom, I didn't think you could be that kind of Mud..."
Strange. It was lighter than usual. Vula balanced it on her three fingers. The book was huge, and yet significantly lighter than A History of Mudos, which wasn't nearly as thick or large. She was no physics expert, but she knew that a book of this size had to be at least as heavy as another one. When she opened it, she realized why it was so light. The middle had been hollowed out and in its place sat two rolled scrolls.
"What the..." Vula had been a friend of Tom's for over a decade, and he was always open, honest, and never hid anything from anyone. In fact, all of his scrolls, he had told her once, he left in special tubes that sat on his desk so they wouldn't fall apart - especially the old ones. Why would he hide scrolls like this? "He has been acting really strange lately.."
She stepped away from the desk and peered outside. Muds were passing back and forth, going about their usual duties. The village had increased in size and there were a few overcrowding issues. Thankfully, Muds, when not drugged, are slow egg-layers and the village would've been much worse otherwise. None of them seemed to be interested in Tom's hut, so she shut the curtain and went back to the scrolls.
Vula unrolled the first scroll, frowning at the strange way it was written. Not being a native, Vula really couldn't understand the ancient vocabulary. She wasn't even sure they were words. They looked a lot like pictures. True, the last decade she'd spent here was full of new experiences, but she had no idea how to read it. So, Vula rolled it back up and looked at the second one. It was much more understandable, but its words sent a cold chill down her spine.
It was a letter.
'Yhalo2.
Make sure you destroy both of these once you're finished copying it. Then meet me at the Bluebonnet. -- Vendo.'
"So it's a message?" Vula whispered, heart bouncing around in her throat. She swallowed heavily. What if Tom was part of some cult? Or worse, what if he was one of the Radicals? Vula did not know what the Bluebonnet was, but she knew what the word 'yhalo' ment. In the old tongue, it was pronounced 'oo-ah-loh', and it had two meanings. The most common meaning was the word 'life', or that which exists on a spiritual level. Its second meaning was 'to try'. Both meanings worked together, because when someone told you to try, they were insisting that you live too. And Vula's heart pounded, because the number two added on the end was telling her only one thing: 'Try again'.
"What the hell!'" she hissed, grumbling to herself. She had to show this to Big Face, but she wasn't sure what would happen if she did. Still, maybe he could translate the other scroll, at the very least.
Vula reached into her pocket for another scroll she'd placed in there earlier. It was about the same size as the other two, but the only information on it was a tea recipe she kept forgetting to give back to Alf. He wouldn't miss it. She placed it in the book and placed the hard-to-read scroll in her pocket. After returning all the books, Vula headed out to see if Big Face had enough energy to speak to her.
"Sorry ma'am," said a Mud, blocking the doorway when Vula tried to pass. "He's sleepin'. Doesn't wanna see anybody." He gave her a halfhearted shrug.
Deciding it wasn't best to insist lest she stir up gossip, she replied, "It's fine, really. When he gets up could ya tell him I wanna see him?"
When she left Big Face's hut, she thought about whom she might ask. Some feeling deep in her gut told her not to bring up the issue with Varg. Varg was Tom's closest friend - the two had been pals for a long, long time, and there was a slight chance he might know about it. And depending on what secrets that scroll held, it might be something that Vula wasn't supposed to know. While Vula knew Varg held her in high regard, he still preferred to be closest to Tom, and it was better that way.
The Almighty Raisin would've known, but he was much too far away and she couldn't leave the village. Heaving a sigh, she decided she could just wait awhile and see what would happen. Go figure, everyone she could've spoken to that might've known were unavailable. Just perfect.
----~----
Night had fallen long ago. The foothills were invisible in the blackness along the horizon. Overhead, the sky was a sea of stars. Shrykull's fingers spread across the sky, its smoky texture creating a strange, mystical feeling about the land.
A lone Mudokon trembled nervously, hugging himself as he tiptoed quietly out of the trees. The glowing red gaze of a slig peered after him. 'Take this to the Mudokons,' they told him, 'Take this parchment to them and see if they can read it.' He didn't understand why they would send him out in the unforgiving wilderness. Why him, when they could've made anyone else do it? He didn't know anything about the native barbarians. What if they killed him?
"Quit shakin' an' let's go!"
The slig stepped forward, shoving the nose of his rifle into the Mudokon's back. The Mud lurched forward, trying not to whimper.
Nearby, someone else was watching him. Another pair of glowing eyes was much deeper in the woods.
"Psst, Quark," the creature whispered quietly into his radio, "We got a live one, eh hehehe. Over."
The one known as Quark lifted his head slightly, pushing aside the tall grass. It was cloaked, as each member of his unit was, figure unrecognizeable - especially in the dark.
"Copy that," hissed Quark. "I'm in position. Over."
"You gonna nab it, or you want me to? Over."
Quark thought a moment, glowering at the slig and Mudokon as they ventured farther into the clearing.
"Let's both go. I'm going to need your rifle, over."
"Copy that. I'll move in from behind, over."
"Right." Quark paused just a moment, mentally readying himself. "Move."
The Mudokon's legs trembled. He had become more and more hesitant, clutching the parchment to his body.
The slig had had just about enough. "Gah! Keep movin', there ain't nothin' out here but-"
It only took a second for Vendo to sneak up behind his prey. He slammed the butt of his rifle into the slig's head. The slig went down with a grunt. The Mudokon yelped, instinctively cowering in the grass, afraid of what this cloaked figure might do to him. Vendo bent down, picked up the slig's rifle, and shouldered it.
"Who are yers?" he asked coldly. "And what the hell are yer doing in a place like this?"
The Mudokon did not answer at first. Vendo, realizing he wasn't about to get anything out of him, huffed in annoyance and stared at something else in the field.
"Excuse me," came Quark's voice. The Mudokon's ears pricked at a voice almost similar to his own. "My partner and I would like to know why you're out here alone, and with a slig?"
This seemed to calm the Mudokon some, and he stood.
"I'm looking for the M-Mudokons. The native ones. I ha-have a message for them. Do you know where they are?"
Vendo peered at Quark. Quark seemed to hesitate for a moment.
"Yes. It is rumored you will not be able to go in alone, however. They do not like outsiders." Quark chose his words very carefully.
While the Mudokon was grateful the slig accompanying him was unconscious, he was terrified of these two new strangers.
"H-how do I get there?" The Mud asked, glancing down at the parchment.
"It's not far," said Quark. "You -" he said, gesturing to Vendo, "Will take care of the body. You know what happened last time."
"Ah, shaddup," Vendo sneered. He inched over to Quark and whispered, "Still doin' the Bluebonnet thing, ya?"
"Wait for me," Quark replied. Vendo seemed to vanish into the grass, and Quark turned his attention to the Mudokon. "Come. I'll take you to the gates."
END
[*] - Philip and Francis Vykker are, if you haven't guessed, a couple of sorts. I thought this would be an interesting idea to convey the existence of a 'same-sex' couple. Vykkers are hermaphroditic, complete within themselves, in their mind. So they can't possibly understand why a Vykker could love anything, except animal cruelty. The existence of Francis and Philip's relationship is an abomination to the way they have always lived. Just as many humans believe same-sex coupling is wrong, and disgusting, the Vykkers feel the same way. Hopefully, my attempts for you to sympathize with Achsah and her 'parents' are successful. I've never seen Lorne Lanning cover this issue in his symbolism, so I thought I'd do it. C: Hope I didn't scar your brains too much with the thoughts of two Vykkers making out or having 'special occasions'. Mwahahahaha. I used Vykkers because most people who like same-sex couples (especially those who like yaoi and yuri) probably would wince at this and I needed something that not everyone WANTS to think about. When it comes to the 'special occasions' it can be whatever you want it to be. I'm not going to explain Vykker anatomy to you. x)
I'm also introducing new characters for awhile - so through the first few chapters you'll see new characters, all in their own mini-plots it seems. But they are all going to come together later on in the story! :D
-- Lacy
[*] -- This will be a shout-out section, so if you review me with any questions or just want to say something I'd be all too happy to answer them here. :D
