I did the same thing on another patch of hull. And again, and again. I performed the act one hundred times or more; and all the holes in the hill hissed out air silently.
Eventually the effort of it ripped my quill from my body, and blood gushed from my middle segment; but I thrust another quill into the hull. I had twenty in all.
After all twenty quills had ruptured, I was done.
I crawled back along the hull towards the hatch, as blood slowly spilled from my body to form a long scarlet slick in the midst of empty space.
I lay on the green plain; the rate of flow had slowed, but the blood that was emerging from my body now was mixed with black bile and entrails. The sheer power needed to thrust organic quill through hard metal had torn my insides apart.
Lirilla flew above my head, fanning me with her wings, whispering words of comfort wrapped within a song of tender beauty:
“Brave
Sai-ias
Joy
Pleasure
Hope
Do
Not
Die.”
I blacked out and woke; and when I woke I realised I was surrounded by an army of my fellow captives. Thousands of them had gathered, in silence, to comfort me in my pain, and perhaps to see me die.
Fray ceaselessly poured healing water of the well of life from a bucket over my bloodied stomach segment-sparing me her healing piss, for which I was grateful. A long chain of my fellow captives on this interior world brought fresh supplies of well-water ceaselessly.
And for a while I wondered if these healing waters were going to work upon me; might I survive this ordeal, and enjoy future days with Sharrock and the others as my friends once more?
But the pain was getting worse not better. My guts and womb and heart and other internal organs had been crushed and ripped in my huge effort; I was little more than a carcass of flesh surrounding a mess of damaged organs.
It was becoming undeniable to me that my injures were too serious to be healed; the only salvation for me was resurrection.
And that, I desperately hoped, would never happen; not if Sharrock and the others triumphed in this last terrible battle. For to be reborn as my twelve-year-old self, thrust back into this appalling world again! I could think of no greater horror.
Sharrock was kneeling by my head, stroking me with his hand. He looked worse than I felt; but I was pleased to see the look in his eyes. It was a look of rage, and a yearning for vengeance.
I whispered to him, but he could not comprehend.
So I opened my mouth; baring my huge jaws, and my sharp teeth. He reached inside with his hand, seeing the spark of ruby light there. And when his hand emerged, he was holding the Jewel of the Seventh Sun. His gift to me, returned.
“I kept it safe,” I said, but he did not comprehend.
“How goes the war?” I asked of Quipu.
“Soon they will come,” said Quipu One. “Soon.”
“Then you must kill,” I said, “those evil souls.”
“We shall,” said the Quipus.
“We shall,” said Fray.
“Don’t go,” said Lirilla.
Sharrock
“You stupid fucking beast,” I said to the dying Sai-ias, “you ignorant arse-sucking cock-kissing ingratiating, soft-hearted, infuriating, patronising whore-bitch-whatever happens, we owe you everything! We thank you, ugly beast, from the depths of our souls. And I-fuck it, I can’t believe I’m saying this- I love you. Can you understand a single fucking word of this?”
Sai-ias grunted something which I could not comprehend; but I read the meaning in her eyes.
And then her body deflated; her eyes dimmed; and she died.
There was no time to mourn. We all knew what we had to do.
We had to wait.
The Ka’un would be suffocating by now; their hull had been breached a thousand times and would be spewing air at a formidable rate. I assumed they would have spacesuits with air tubes; that might buy them some time.
But not much. The hull holes would heal themselves; but the air that had spurted out could not be easily replaced. A world’s worth of air! No machine could generate that much fresh atmosphere in less than several weeks; by which time the Ka’un would all be dead.
So they needed to take our interior world back; this would give them air enough for years, until they had replenished their own supplies.
And what’s more, we had defied them. So they had no choice. They had to attack us.
And when they did, we would be ready.
An army of us had gathered, stretched across the Great Plain, breathing slowly, waiting for the moment. Fray, Quipu, Lirilla, Raoild, Ioday Zubu, Doriel, Caramo, Doalyu, Sargan, Biark, Sahashs, Loramas, Thugor, Amur, Kairi, Wapax, Fiymean, Krakkka, and more, many more.
Quipu spoke; and Fray poured more water of life upon me. Despite my lack of skin, I felt strong and ready for battle.
Fray spoke to Quipu; Quipu replied. I understood none of this.
Lirilla uttered a sound: I actually recognised the word. “Sai-ias. Sai-ias.” She was singing the name of our dead friend.
I clutched my sword, which Lirilla had brought to me; stolen I guessed from a Kindred in the Valley. It was a blade of near-unbreakable metal, forged from the walls of a Hell Ship cabin. I touched it; and felt its power.
And we waited.
And the silence was broken by Lirilla, singing to the sky.
And when Lirilla had sung her song, Miaris howled, a melancholy howl; this was his song. And it was beautiful.
And though I could not understand the language of the others, I realised immediately what was happening when Quipu began to pace and chatter; and all of his five heads were talking, sharing, interrupting, and all were rapt as they listened to the tale he was telling.
And then Fray roared, and scraped her hooves, and spoke at length; and her tale, whatever it was, was surely magnificent.
And as we waited still, more tales were told; and the creatures of the Hell Ship were united, a single family, bonded by one creature; the dead Sai-ias.
And finally the story-telling and the singing and the sharing was over. And our enemies came.
The skies above us were black; I looked up and realised that three thousand or more Kindred warriors were flying in space-armour above us. Some were from the Valley, but most I guessed had been despatched from their barracks somewhere in the outer hull. The Ka’un had sent their finest warriors to fight us!
And the flying Kindred swooped down low upon the Great Plain, and their guns began to spit fire.
And the aerials swooped upon them, knocking them from the sky. They flew in vast flocks, hundreds of them, pecking and ripping at the motors that held the Kindred body armours aloft; and one by one the Kindred began to fall from the sky. And those that fell were trampled under the hooves of the grazers and of Fray, or torn apart by the teeth of the giant sentients, or thrashed and bitten to pieces by the angry arboreals.
Or slain by me! For my sword did the work of a hundred Maxoluns, as I cut and slashed and killed!
And as I fought, I thought of Sai-ias.
Blade at my head; duck to evade; weave; dagger in the throat; knee in the balls; on I fight!
I mourned her, and I treasured her memory, insofar as I could treasure and mourn in the midst of a furious and bloody battle with these huge and powerful Kindred warriors.
(Back! Strike! Thrust! Fuck your parents for conceiving you and die!)
Sai-ias was brave indeed. She died to save us. And what’s more, she left us a legacy; a way of love and forgiveness and respect for the rhythms of life, and it is a way I intend to respect and to follow. Just as soon as I win this fucking battle!