Episode 35
Coming Showers
The forecast predicted heavy rains.
Captain Cox tightened his safari cap and rolled up his pant legs. Through the crack between tent flaps he saw men and women rushing with wooden pallets and metal plating which some put under their tents. Other workers carried large sacks of heavy duty tent stakes, gravel, wooden posts, and rubber mesh. Passing wheel barrels smelled of moist earth. The geological team said that the ground around the cave entrance was pretty stable as well as the mountain side, but Captain Cox knew that if something could go wrong, it would go wrong. The dirt on which they stood he refused to trust - only the most novice of adventurers had faith in the ground on which they stepped. Thus, he made sure that erosion precautions were taken.
Not only was the camp being refitted for torrential downpours, but the complex itself, particularly the entrance. Cox changed the schedules of the dig teams and the archeologists, cutting their work day short and then sending them out to the local manufacturing town for a surplus of water pumps. He also ordered the engineers to carve the earth in front of the entrance so that water would not flow into the complex and bury weeks of digging in thick mounds of mud and sediment.
He dug through a duffle bag and pulled out a pair of thick, tall boots. Lifting his left leg, he slowly pulled the boot onto his foot. As he wiggled his way in, a question came to mind: what ever happened to that intern? He sent another person that morning to go to the communication trailer in place of the intern.
It wasn't like the intern could have gotten lost. The comlink trailer was a five minute walk across the camp and could be easily recognized by the massive, military grade antennae towering over everything else. Cox hadn't told anyone yet of his concern for the intern, as he was sure a few others had noticed the young man's absence during the morning briefing. He figured that if the intern did somehow find himself down in XBC-68 again, he could last a day or two. After all, the dig teams were notorious for using one of the ancient storage halls as a massive pantry.
He pulled tightened the straps of the boot, and then began to put on the other boot. Outside he heard the thudding of footsteps approaching the tent. He crammed his foot in, tightened the straps, and jolted up. He tied his long hair in a bun and lit a cigar.
The flap door flew open and an intern, his least favorite of the two, stumbled in. "Good late morning sir! Are we ready to go hunting?"
Cox puffed a cloud of smoke that enveloped the interns face. It was thick and sickly yellow as if it were vaporized flem. "Not today, boy. Can you not see that there are preparations to be made for the oncoming storm?"
The intern tried to cover his nose, but the cigar smoke was intense. He smelled it right through his shirt. "So cancel the day's activities?"
"I'm sure I made that quite clear to most of you this morning." Cox puffed another cloud of thick, smoke into the intern's face.
"My apologies, sir," the intern said and backed out with his shirt tucked over his nose and mouth.
The burly Cox reached over for his wide brimmed hat, chuckling to himself as he heard the intern dry heave into a coughing fit outside the tent.
"Oh my..." Cough. "fucking..." Cough. "god!" Cough. Cough. Cough. "Somebody-" Cough. "Get me some-" Cough. "Oxygen!" Cough. Wheeze.
There were a few more hours left before the storm arrived, so he had some time to get things done before "battering down the hatches", like checking on that other intern he sent to the comlink in place of the missing one. He should have been back by now. Cox was not looking forward to reporting the two missing interns. A colleague once reported a missing crew member and lost investors after rumors spread the dig to be a front for the local cult.
He adjusted his hat, rolled up his sleeves, and marched through the tent flaps, only to be stopped by a short bald man in a robe.
"Good afternoon Seeker Demmel. I have full faith that you know of the saying, 'Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Think of him, and he'll be at your doorstep.' How are we today?"
Demmel raised his pale, elongated face to the towering Cox. He spat on the adventurer's boot. "How are we? You ask me as if your disregard for the sacred is a flippant matter, something to be tossed aside and ignored. But I warn you, Cox, one of these days the ancient gods will rise again and flay you like the infidel you are."
"For future reference, if you want to leave a message of a dark and dismal fate, I have an answering machine. If that's all your here for, my good sir, that pardon me as there is important work to attend to this very moment!" Cox turned and started to walk, but the short man's stepped in front of him, stopping him.
"Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing? I by no means mean disrespect, Mister Demmel, but I just told you to use the answering machine if you want to leave me some dark, cryptic enigma to baffle over for the next few weeks."
The short bald man pulled a black orb from his draping sleeves. "We have been seeing horrible things coming this way."
"That's wonderful. But may I also ask if you do remember what I said about your pronoun games. Now if you will excuse me-"
The short man shoved the black orb into Cox's face. "Look and behold! Grandeur and horror! Immensity and depravity! The colossal and the lewd!"
Cox looked into the black orb. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. His cigar hit the ground with a hiss.
"Can you not see it? Can you not see the hysteria that will plague the people when this comes? Can you not see the strife and conflict that this will bring? The great controversy that it will spark?!"
Cox rubbed his eyes and looked deeper into the orb. "Mother of god..."
"Now do you see?"
"I do... I do..."
The short man slipped the orb back into his sleeve. "Now what will you do? What will you tell your men?"
Cox straightened himself and cleared his throat. "First I will grab a tissue and blow my nose. A booger that huge no man should witness!" He said with reverence. "Secondly I will start recommending that my men, and even the women, start using honey wax for their hair. I never knew my mustache and 'chops were so... so... soooo..." He gasped, as if he were orgasming. "Breathtaking..."
"This is not a joke! What did you see in the orb?!" The short man's pale face reddened.
Cox shrugged. "My glorious face, of course."
"Did you not see anything else, like the future? The hearts of men everywhere? The destiny of this world?!"
"Nope. I did see a bunch of fingerprints and scratches. I whole heartedly suggest that you take a waxed cloth and polish that thing."
"You dare take what you have seen to be a joke?"
"Did it sound like I was joking? Boogers are terrifying things, and amazing facial hair is awe inspiring. You know, I was feeling quite shit this morning about two missing interns. But now I feel not only inspired, but uplifted. I appreciate your services and offer my thanks. G'day, good Seeker!" Cox tipped his hat and left the short bald man standing in front of the main tent.
Demmel shook his head and looked up. What else could he expect from such a vain man as Captain Cox. He rubbed the orb in his sleeve pocket, and felt the urge to speak his mind to the sky. He closed his eyes, and slipped into his deeper wavelengths. "Something is coming, a presence is near, and ancient longing to be and to be not. Two great forces coming to clash, ancestors and step-ancestors, each willing to take us under their wing. The question is though, how will we be divided, and how red and black must the ground become with blood and ash before one of the opponents claims victory?"
He turned and smelled the air. A strange tingling rushed through his body. Years of empty worship left him and his gathering grasping for signs and wonders to set fire to their faith. Thousands of gallons of blood had been spilt in the night to gain the attention of those whom they worshipped, and although dread filled the mind of Demmel, excitement filled his heart. Excitement from feeling something near. Something was near, and it was not of the ordinary. It was calling out- no. It was screaming for someone to call its name in blood and death. Then he heard it again. That loud humming that he always heard in the monastery. The humming so subtle yet so overwhelming. The humming one could hear if they listened for it. However it did not roll over the mountains as it usually did, but resonate from within.
Demmel looked around him at the workers going about their business. He pitied them for not being able to hear the rumble of the ancient beings, of the machines that never stop...
Azultep rested his ancient behind on a wooden mount his Scyrens had built on Kophtet's lower torso slightly above where his six legs jutted from. Four Scyrens rode with him, standing on the back of Kophtet's lower torso as well.
"I know you have vehicles for this," said Kophtet, the irritation seeping through his calm voice. "And I do not by any means want to disrespect you, but could you not just beam one down?"
Azultep frowned, "Hmm," and farted. "Well, you see my dear Cryptek. Energy is something one should not waste. You have two torsos, one connecting to the larger, wider one where your six legs jutteth forth, may I so dear say my dear oh beloved swell and eternal companion."
The Scyrens cooed with amusement.
"With two torso's I'd imagine you would have twice the energy of any of your companions. I know for a fact you burn less energy than any vehicle of mine over the same distance. Besides, I'd hate to get any of that mud on my oh so glorious and majestic cape." He grinned as his Scyren's cooed once more.
Kophtet looked down at the mud below them. His telescopic legs, elongated, left them high above the swampy floor of this dense jungle. "What an asshole..." he thought. The moment made him cringe on the inside. He did not deserve this treatment, even if it was from some one as "highly respectable" as Azultep. He was an honored Cryptek, and a member royalty by his true nature, separated from his family by misfortune. He loathed everything, despised it all. He wasn't receiving the honor and desire he deserved. He tired of being cast aside as another Cryptek.
"Anyways, Koph. It shouldn't be long now before we get to meet up with Basep. Seems like he found some intruders on some home turf. It should be long, that is, if you go a little faster."
"How far is Basep?"
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh... well..."
"Well?"
"Do you understand what a kilometer is?"
"I've heard of it and have a rough idea of what it's like."
"Good. Because Basep is over two thousand kilometers away."
Kophtet stopped. His upper torso pivoted around, and he glared at Azultep.
Azultep crossed his arms. "We certainly aren't going to get there any faster like this."
"I'm sorry, but did you just say two thousand?"
"Did it sound like I stuttered? Of course I said two thousand, and we're not going to get there any faster just by standing around and staring at each other. If I were you, I'd start legging it over there as the narrow sea between here and there will be quite the bitch to cross, especially with the oncoming weather patterns."
Kophtet's upper torso turned forward and he continued walking once more.
No one seemed to respect him, or even want to respect him the way he ought to be respected. And now someone was intruding on the home world he grew up in, a home world he could not recognize. He was aware of the rage and the vengeance and the raw hatred building within him and knew that he needed somewhere, someplace to vent it out. These intruders would suffer, and if they were human, he would give them no rest through experiments, tests, and trials like none other. No longer would he treat them as sentient beings, for they were careless and arrogant. They were now scraps of flesh to be tested and thrown away, or so he thought. What he really decided they would be was something he denied as it seemed to feral for his tastes and too perverse, something he'd expect Nephalut to do. Any human he'd come across would he decided subconsciously would be his toy upon which he could release all his anger.