Hello Lovelies! Nothing to say other than I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2 – Closed Mandibles

The ship was quiet now, only the soft rise and fall of a long lost, pre-Golden Age symphony playing in the background.

Their conversation had been illuminating, and yet largely depressing. The ghost had received an extremely vague description of what was happening to her, whether that was by design or she really didn't know what this thing was eating away at her, it couldn't be sure. Then, it got what it could only describe as an ill-advised attempt to beat this 'darkness' as the ghost had come to call it with the lack of a better term. What she considered to be the solution was purely theoretical, based only on the fact that she felt slightly better when sleeping with these creatures.

"That doesn't even make sense," it said to itself quietly. The ghost turned abruptly and zipped over to the sofa where the female reclined once again. "I need to take scans!" it said too harshly.

The look she gave it was blank as though she hadn't noticed its erratic behavior, which she definitely had. Her acquiescence came with a feeling of encouragement and the ghost proceeded with full body scans. The external ones probably would not be very helpful, but it never hurt to gather as much information as possible.

There was a subtle chord of curiosity playing along the periphery of its mind and it knew that it was coming from her, but she remained silent and it refused to comment. She wanted to talk and it wanted to work. Was it throwing itself into this work to avoid acknowledging the proverbial elephant in the room? Yes. Did it care? No.

"I'm finished. I'm going to get these loaded into the computer for analysis and then I'll bring you your drink. You haven't eaten since we got back on the ship." It didn't wait for a reply. Was it being cowardly? Probably. Did it care? Once again, no. It wasn't going to be the one to bring up the contingency plan.

If the ghost had its way, neither of them would ever bring it up again.

Er'tas lie on a set of furs in his shared quarters listening to the conversation unfold around him. He was interested, somewhat, but his mind wandered, distracted by the event that occurred not so many moments ago. He had debated internally many times whether or not he should inform his chosen hunting unit of the occurrence.

"The stealth reaver, the one that knows to keep his mandibles closed," proclaimed the elder vandal nearest him. Krinicks was the youngest of the elder vandals, hatched just before the Whirlwind. He had never truly known the home planet, a great loss for him, and his fortune had not improved since.

He was a skilled warrior, always emerging from a battle unscathed, and yet he managed to accumulate many crippling injuries throughout his life in absurd accidents. Twice, defective stabilizers had initiated power feedback loops causing shanks to explode within a few ntr of him. The injuries sustained had rendered his left, outer eye non-functioning, his left, inner eye darkened and vision blurred, and damage to his pedicels that affected his targeting capabilities.

Many moments after those incidents, a power surge aboard a skiff had caused the slide mechanism on a door to malfunction and close on his left, upper claw severing two digits. He could no longer use it to grasp weapons and had to compensate by using his lower claw.

And only a few patrols ago, large rocks along the edge of a cliff side he was scouting had shifted unexpectedly crushing his right leg. It had healed, but he would forever have a noticeable limp. The elder vandals frequently joked that the servitors had it in for him and asked him what he had done to enrage them so.

His proclamation was in response to the group's musings about which reaver would next be promoted to captain as Friksor's replacement. Loksis spoke up, negating his assertion, "No, he associates often with the lower stealth vandal. It is unbecoming." Loksis was infamous among their crew, especially among the elder vandals. The actual reasons for this had been lost from memory except by a select few, but these reasons had seen him bestowed the coveted title of Devil Claw by the Kell. His opinion was to be respected.

Already he should have ascended to the rank of reaver and perhaps even captain, but he was passed over at his own request, a notion that was unheard of. All Fallen wanted to rank higher. Nonetheless, he was the only vandal below reaver status to be summoned periodically by the captain for reasons he did not share, even with them.

"This is valid. Perhaps the overly aggressive scout. Tyriks would be wise to select an enforcer," interjected the last member of their group, Vost. The oldest member of the crew and perhaps even in House Devils, Vost was a mystery. Quiet and reserved, he did not speak often outside of their unit, but like Loksis, his words were respected by all. As was his might.

He was the only vandal in the crew who had never lost a challenge, even against multiple opponents. His size gave him the advantage as he was the largest vandal the crew could boast, his shoulders and chest rivaling that of the captain, but he was also an excellent strategist. Many considered him the only choice for replacing Friksor, but he had yet to be made a reaver for some unknown reason.

The conversation lulled momentarily, an indication that they expected him to interject with his own opinion on the subject. "It matters not," he said distractedly although the words were well thought out; he had considered this internally many times. "He will kneel to Tyriks in all things." To share the same class, was not to share the same rank. The other would be an underling, Tyriks' lesser.

The room grew silent again as they considered his words. When Loksis spoke up, he expected it to be a comment on his assumption, but the other vandal questioned him on a different topic, "Recently you lie quietly often, Er'tas. What distracts your thoughts?"

He had still debated if he would tell them anything up until that point, but with them addressing him directly, Er'tas decided not to censor himself. "When last did any of you have a female?" he asked quietly. The subject of females was a sore point for many elder Fallen and some did not take kindly to any reminders of what their species had lost since the arrival of the Great Machine.

"I have never mated a female," answered Krinicks almost immediately.

"The hatchling conveys this as though it surprises," jested Vost with an accompanying arm flick, a rare showing of amusement from him. Er'tas could not help his amused trill and their combined mirth filled the room as a clattering of mandibles. All except for Krinicks, who clicked something rude at the older vandal, which only incited more laughter.

Both the initial comment and Krinicks' foul language alone were enough to incite a challenge between unacquainted Fallen, but their unit had been formed many moments in the past. They knew each other well including their sense of humor. Vost was not easily offended and the younger vandal had grown accustomed to small jabs at his youth and misfortune.

After the last of the clicking had Fallen away, Loksis spoke up again, "I mated sparingly aboard the Ketch following the exodus."

"I report the same as Loksis," replied Vost returning to his reserved demeanor, although the curiosity was evident in his tone.

"Perhaps better asked, a female witnessed since the restriction?" The answer was clear by the quick arm flicks of denial he received from each of them, not that he had suspected otherwise.

"The last report indicates, remaining are House Wolves. Why curious?"

Er'tas moved from his furs to kneel with the other vandals around the decommissioned control console in the center of the room, which they often used as a makeshift table. "Spawned vandal spoke the word 'female'," he said, which resulted in a few hisses of surprise. "He did not understand it. I am curious how he was knowledgeable."

"Answer is obvious. Elder Fallen speaking without caution," clicked Loksis disdainfully at the foolish behavior, especially for elder Fallen who knew only too well the risks of such information spreading. If the nuur'khu ever learned of their plight, it could be disastrous not only for the Devils, but for all Fallen.

"Your thoughts are misplaced. It matters only, he knows. You are wise to explain to Tyriks this occurrence. He will discover how, punish all involved," warned Vost.

This was true; already, the lesser vandal had spoken to the reaver. If a dreg overheard the term it would spread through the ranks in a matter of moments as they could never keep their mandibles closed. The more spawned Fallen that knew, the harder it would be to manage. They would have to cull. No, better to control this now. He would contact the captain's guard for a meeting following his next patrol.

"Vost is correct," he finally said as though the conversation had never been interrupted, "Tyriks will select an enforcer. He has no use for other skills."

And with that comment, the debate was renewed.

So… did you guys like our little dive into the world of the elder Fallen? Anybody catch those hints and think they may know what is going on? Please, please let me know in the reviews as I love hearing your theories. Thanks for reading!

Fallen Language. Listed in order of appearance:

Ntr – measure of length, meter

Nuur'khu – lightbearers