The human had disappeared from the room for several days. The eerie emptiness when Desniir first entered was his first clue. Desniir ruffled through the closet and large portions of the ship in the vain hope that he was there, Desniir was certain he had locked the door before he left. The only other option was that the human was taken by one of the crew. If that were the case, he was certainly dead. He had wanted to take the human to Haven, to see Quai’s reaction. She would have been jealous of him getting a rare human specimen, and impressed that he managed to do so without killing it. Or even better, somehow use him against the Havana. But his dream was now dead. At the very least, it was one less problem to worry about. Giving up on his search, Desniir turned to a more important matter.
Taking out a case of cylindrical products, he began to brush and apply softener to his fur. He had several dozens of brushes for his grooming, all for the layers of his fur. First he took a large tooth brush to get the down coat, before moving up to finer brushes. Once he felt no resistance as he brushed, he applied a shimmering silver powder. Even in the faintest of light, he would glow. But during the process, he would check his exoskeleton for damage.
Underneath all of his fur and beauty, was a mess. His exoskeleton was warped, discolored from the scarring and burns. There were puncture wounds that had yet to fully heal even after the many cycles. Desniir had tried all kinds of medications and ointments, but none worked. He no longer bothered to see physicians, as they were all useless in their diagnosis. Even Atta did not know the extent of the bodily damage he had sustained. It was one of the many gifts that was given to him by the Havana. He wanted her head between his claws, ripping off that mask of hers to let her see what she had done. Breaking her arms, her legs, and her body until they were all liquidated. He wanted to be there to see her soul leave her body, as she takes her final pained breath. He wanted to inflict all the damage she did to him, back at her for revenge. It was the only dream that kept Desniir going through the pain.
Desniir fluffed up his fur hiding his open wounds and scars, and began his patrol down the halls. He spent most of his days wandering around, addressing any issues that came up. There were always problems with a group of wild Cymins. He was sure that without constant inspections the whole ship would fall to disrepair. It would only take moments before he would encounter his first hurdle.
In the hallway, a group of young Cymin nymphs had created a ring of bones. In the center was a baby Jahren. No doubt the Cymin nymphs had taken it from the commerce ship. It was emaciated. A majority of its scales had fallen off, and its mouth wide open, showing its sharklike teeth poking through its cracked gums. The nymphs seeing their captain scattered up to the ceiling, leaving the child onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” Desniir said. “Why is there a baby here?”
“We want to see it grow. But it does not do so. We give it light, but it lies there.”
“Grow? You think this Jahren child grows like you?”
Desniir picked up the baby by the arm. It could only give a weak cry in response.
“You grow like plants, taking in the light, until the time you begin to feel the Hunger. No other species does the same. Each species have their own diet, highly incompatible with one another. This Jahren can not consume meat, just as you will not be able to consume vegetation. What made you think that was not the case?”
A nymph approached and snatched the baby from the captain’s grasp. Before any of the others could take it away, the nymph disappeared into the ventilation shaft above. Desniir had never seen a Cymin attempt to take care of another species young. He wanted to believe that the nymphs were simply exploring their curiosity in a healthy manner. But they were Cymins, and This was a worrying development. Desniir could deal with normal Cymin behavior. They liked to roam alone, hiding in the shadows, only gathering together to hunt. But with the nymphs altering their normal behavior from hiding in the vents meant that they were becoming unpredictable. A first sign of their molting phase before adulthood. Soon they would take their aggression out in other ways. Desniir noted to himself to lock the ventilation in his quarters.
Further down the hallway, closer to the cargo hold, there was another gathering of Cymin. They were adults this time, all clicking their jaws. As Desniir approached, they parted way for their leader. On the floor was a pool of black liquid: the same type from the metal egg. The Cymins kept their distance, unable to decide what to do.
“What happened here?” Desniir demanded. The Cymin begun to slowly retreat away. A common tactic to avoid answering questions they did not know. But Desniir was not going to let another group escape. Desniir pulled out his rifle,
“Whoever leaves will be shot first, now answer my question!”
A gray Cymin with large, sharp claws and grooves along the side of his neck stared down at his captain. His scars along the sides of his chest and face indicated his age. He killed many of his kind and others. Those who died left their marks on his skin. The Cymin's ability to survive for such a long time without losing any limbs or his life as an adult was a testament to his resiliency. But then again despite their species capability to not die from old age, no Cymin has lived for that long.
“Captain, there is a spirit of death on this ship. We do not want to feed it.”
“What spirit of death? I never took all of you to be superstitious.”
“We are not superstitious, Captain. It is on our ship. The Hunger grows, but it is quelled by its presence.”
“Why don’t you find and kill this spirit?”
“Captain, you invited it on board.”
Desniir could not believe what he was hearing. He did not bring anything on board his ship, and certainly nothing that would cause Cymins to become fearful. The only thing he brought on board was the human. But the human couldn't be the cause for the Cymins change in behavior. The human was weak and pathetic, a perfect invitation for a Cymin to find itself a good meal. However, Desniir considered another possibility. There was the chance that Cymins had never seen a human before.
Desniir himself never saw a human before taking it on his ship. Its behavior while weak may have proved unfamiliar for the Cymins. That, Desniir could reasonably understand.
“Can you catch this spirit?” Desniir asked.
“Yes.”
“Then catch it and bring it to my quarters. Stop having these theatrics, there is nothing to fear.”
“What of the liquid, Captain? it is toxic substance.”
“You don’t need to touch the liquid to clean it up. Get absorbents, the wash pads, soak it up and throw it out. You can't tell me you all don't do the same thing with blood. This ship is spotless due to your work.”
The Captain noticed that the pool of the liquid was not the only issue. There was a trail of droplets leading away to one of the halls. Whatever left the liquid was probably still around. Each discovery on his ship gave Desniir more unease. He did not want to meet another fun surprise alone. He pointed at the old Cymin.
“What is your name?”
“Kha.”
“You follow me.”
Through the halls the captain followed the trail with the Cymin loosely following behind. The trail seemed to meander the halls aimlessly. Until it led to a dying Cymin. Its body was shriveled, with one of its arms missing, it was curled near a corner. It smelt of rot and blood. Desniir could only assume that it had gotten into a fight but was left vanquished. But then Desnnir recognize the markings. It was the same Cymin that had helped him open the egg. Now, the Cymin was completly unrecognizable of their previous self. The old Cymin chattered his jaws. It was rare to find a Cymin, sick but not eaten. Desniir had to place himself between the dying Cymin and the one behind him. Experience had taught Desniir that a vulnerable prey, even it was their own kind, was prone to being attacked. Desniir leaned closer to the creature.
“What are you doing here?” Desniir asked. The Cymin did not seem to see him as it swiveled its head around. It hugged itself and leaned against the wall.
“Captain. He spoke to me.”
“Who did?”
“The spirit of death.”
Desniir was taken aback. The human was alive, and had made it far deeper into the bowels of the ship than he expected. But the human being able to speak was an odd development. Desniir doubted the injured Cymins words. Perhaps the sickness had gotten to his mind.
“What did it say to you?”
“I will be resting soon. He gave me a blessing for a safe passage in the new cycle. Captain, if he is here, I wish to speak to him.”
Kha leaned towards Desniir, saliva dripping from his jaws.
“He is sick, captain. His mind no longer functions. He must be consumed.”
Desniir brushed away Kha’s words and leaned closer to the dying Cymin. The Cymin did not react to his approach. Its mouth was partially open, as it barely breathed. There was a black liquid dripping from its mouth. The same type that the Cymins had encircled around.
“What will you say to the spirit?”
“Captain, I do not want to die.”
Desniir stood back up and left the dying Cymin alone. Kha'e took the opening and sunk his fangs into his crewmate. The sick Cymin struggled but it was no use. It did not take long before the body stopped twitching. Up above, the vents rattled as the scent of fresh blood attracted the younger Cymins. Once Kha'e had his fill; the small nymphs descended from the shafts and enveloped the carcass. Once all was said and done, not a trace remained. Desniir often wondered how the Cymin species had survived for so long with cannibalism being as common as it was. Atta had attempted to justify it by explaining that it was a part of their nature and that consumption was a way to strengthen the body and soul. It also allowed the weaker individual's soul to exist in a being that was stronger than them. Desniir found the explanation to be lacking, but did not bother to ask any more questions on the matter. To him, it was clear that regardless of the explanation, the Cymins had an unquenchable appetite for violence.
Desniir wafted the air with his antennae. There was a familiar scent of flowers. Deseniir followed the trail through the halls. The scent ended at the engine room. The beating of the heart of the engine could be felt through the walls.
“Kha’e, tell Atta to wait for me in the command deck.”
“Captain, is there an issue.”
“The only problem I have is that you're not leaving fast enough.”
Desniir waited until he could no longer smell Kha’e’s scent in the halls. Only then did he enter the engine room with his weapon in hand. The engine took up the whole space. The engine had tendrils attaching itself to pipes and other structures. A soft leathery material lined the surface, and if Desniir was unaware, he would have assumed it was made of skin. The heart engine pulsated as it converted liquid fuel into energy to power the ship. The design of the engine was historical, made by the Celestians decades ago during the Harmonian Civil War. On the walls were paintings. Made with black ink, it sprawled from the walls upwards to the ceiling and to the floor. Images of stars, planets, and odd unknown creatures both large and small all interacting with each other. When Desniir touched the paint, he lost feeling in his digits until he scrapped the paint off. Desniir tried to understand the art he was seeing, but could not quite piece it together.
He felt his wing being tugged. Desniir aimed his weapon at the being behind him. It was the human. His hands were covered in the black liquid, most likely his paint. Despite being gone for several days, he seemed to be better shape, no longer cowering. Desniir lowered his weapon as the human pointed towards the wall. The human wanted to communicate, but without speech. The human began to point at a series of image in order.
First was a circle with many humanoids on it. One was clearly different from the others, as it held a sword. Then to a machine with wings, leaving the circle with numerous humanoids, with the sword wielding one as well. Then from above, a creature with many arms and a monstrous head reached down towards the ship, many times bigger than the humanoids. The humanoid with the sword cut off the arms but was clearly injured with liquid pouring out of its body. The humanoid was placed within a capsule, only then to be opened by a winged insect.
Desniir could only be certain it was the origin of the human. But he failed to quite understand the full story. The only pieces he could understand that the human was separated from the rest of his kind. Perhaps the monster was Havana Lu. The human was imagining her as a great Spirit attacking him. If true, Desniir could only imagine what monstrosities Havana Lu inflicted on the human’s mind and spirit. At least now he was not drowning in liquid being shipped off like cargo.
Grabbing the humans wrist, Desniir dragged the human out of the engine room.
“Do not go in there again.” Warned Desniir. “The engine is off limits unless your a mechanic. Your not a mechanic are you?”
The human stared at him with a blank expression. Desniir noticed the human was holding the sword hilt. His antanae shivered from unease. Desniir snatched the hilt away from the human. The human did not resist.
“You don't need this here, its useless.”
Desniir pulled the human through the corridors. The Cymin seeing their captain kept their distance and observed the odd human on their ship. Their eyes glinting with curiosity. Desniir made it to the command deck, where Atta was waiting for him. She was adjusting the flights' path to Haven, with supply charts opened to the side. Noticing her captain, she bowed, and clicked her jaws.
“Captain, I've plotted the coordinates to Haven.”
“Good, hopefully we can get there soon.”
“I see you brought the human.”
“Of course I did. Why shouldn't I?”
“Lord Awa had sent another message. She wants you to kill it.”
“That's not happening.” Desniir replied without hesitation.
Desniir mind rushed to all the possibilities of that order. That crone is trying to push me around, Desniir thought, not this time. He would have a long conversation with her about the problems he was having. Before the attack on the commercial ship, his crew were already in the early phase of the Hunger. Lord Awa assigned his territory far out near the edges of the Sector, and his navigation equipment had periods of failure. For that reason, commercial ships rarely navigated there without reason. No ships meant no food. Desniir was always on the losing battle, with his crew fighting off starvation.
The human wandered away from Desniir and began to explore around the command deck. His fingers grazed the controls, avoiding the temptation to press them. The oblivious human seemed to not mind the ever present danger of the surrounding creatures, exploring the areas and fulfilling his curiosity. Soon, he came around to near Atta, watching over her head as she plotted her points. If Atta was any other Cymin, she would have retaliated. But being with Desniir had mellowed her aggressive tendencies. Desniir envied the human’s blissful ignorance. But Atta, twitched her claws, from annoyance.
“Captain.” Atta called.
“ Atta?”
“Why dont you want to kill it?”
“Didn't you tell me not to?”
“It was a mere suggestion, but now considering that Lord Awa is against keeping it alive, it would be important to follow this advice.”
“What did she actually say?”
“To destroy the Sedan of Sector 7, Havana Lu’s item if in possession.”
“Item? We destroyed it. The weird metal egg chamber. She said nothing about the human.”
“What if it is the human? We can't afford to have our territory reduced. It's not feasible to sustain the crew at the current as is.”
“Who said that she is going to reduce my territory? I can convince Lord Awa.”
“Last time you tried to do that, she kicked you out of the council.”
“But I'm still here.”
“For now.”
“Captain.”
Desniir and Atta turned towards the human. Desniir was at first confused when he heard his title, but it clearly came from the human. The human was pointing at Desniir. His finger then locked onto Atta. His voice was soft, almost as if it were a weak radio signal.
“Atta.”
He then pointed at himself.
“Koros.”
He walked over to the Atta’s map, from which she was plotting points. Despite his struggles against the mechanics of the map, he zoomed out to show the all of 10 Sectors and Corners, the System. The human zoomed in and out, exploring the areas. Atta raised her claws, her patience had run out. Desniir grabbed her wrist. Atta struggled at with his grip, before giving up. She ripped her wrist away, and moved over to another console to continue to planning the route. However, she seemed distracted by the human’s search, glancing periodically at the shifting map. Desniir overlooked each of the points that the human was looking at. It seemed random at first, selecting random planets, such as Rima, Olat, and Kima. But the human seemed to have a systemic way. But then the human seemed to give up entirely, zooming back out to the entire System. Further and further out, until the system was the size of a small pebble. Outside the System was discoloration; streaks of colors of speculated locations of stars and galaxies. The human pointed to one of the streaks.
“Earth, Koros.”
He then pointed to the same streak. His hands dragging closer to the System before reaching the edge of the System.
“Desniir, Koros.”
He turned to Desniir trying to seek some sense of understanding. Desniir just laughed. The human was insane. It was trying to communicate that it originated from some ‘Earth’. But there was no way the human could have been outside the System. It was impossible. Any ships that even travelled outside the System’s borders have vanished without a trace. Mapping was next to impossible as an unknown force, was warping the visible space. Desniir had aspirations when he was younger to explore the unknown regions, but some aspirations were best left to die with innocence.
“Koros, if that is your name, you are quite persistent. But since you can speak, might as well teach you USL. What do you think, Atta?”
“I still think you should kill it.”
“Where is the fun in that? We have enough time before we arrive to Haven. What do you say, Koros?”
The human’s face lit up, and quickly bowed. The heat of Atta’s opposition was stabbing him, but he did not care. Perhaps he could talk to someone else than the psychopathic Cymins. Maybe he could teach the human how to kill. For the first time, Desniir was excited for the future.