[Teal]

Guess who's back...? *backflips* Yaay, Uni is started again... (now all I have to do is pass these bloody re-takes and I'll be a happy merf - if I don't, I'll vanish again. But that's another story)

AAAAAaaanyway... I thought I better post "Dark" here - I was hoping to be able to get my other fics finished before then (apologies to those who are getting confused - I always have too many fics on the go at once, but hey *looks in Rett's direction*), but as Drag will otherwise be posting spoilers, of a kind... *rolls eyes* Here we go, I guess....

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Chapter One


Dren was late getting back home.
Aalu sat out on the platform in front of her tree home, impatiently waiting for her son to arrive back. I’m only going out for a walk, he’d said. No need to worry about me… And normally she wouldn’t worry about him, knew he’d be okay, he was smart enough to keep to the trees, so he could nip up one the moment danger threatened – a lot of the sligs around the town had gone back to their “wild state,” these days. Perhaps it was the freedom it gave them, unencumbered by those heavy pants and mask, or perhaps it was a determination not let the natives that lived nearby get any sort of sense of superiority, the natives with that fierce pride and grace in their natural environment. Whatever the reason, more and more of the ex-industrials were learning the ropes, getting the hang of living in the trees, and the muds felt less threatened by them that way, which was a bonus.
Some, like Aalu and her mate, Rek, had the best of both worlds, so to speak. Rek had a ground-based job – he was one of the chemists down Medcentre, the flourishing “hospital” on the outskirts of town, and needed to keep his pants. But their children – Aalu had only found out she was a queen something by accident – had been brought up almost entirely in the trees, like the natives’ children were…
Even if you ignored his dark skin and those eyes like black marbles, little Dren had always been different, had always been something of a loner, so unlike the species, and yet… and yet… he’d never been out so late, not alone… Aalu was fretting, scouring the dusk until she couldn’t see any more. After all, even though sligs matured far faster than the muds did, Dren was still young – he wasn’t even a year old yet, was still essentially a child, no matter what he said…
It was dark by the time Dren finally crawled in, covered from snout to tail in fine silty dust and hairline scratches, panting exhaustedly.
“Where have you been?” Aalu demanded, worriedly. “Your father and I have been so worried about you…”
“I don’t see why that’s any business of yours,” he snapped in reply, pushing past her and heading towards the curtain that formed a doorway between the main living area and where he slept.
“Dren!” she exclaimed, angrily.
“Jus’ leave me the frack alone!” he snarled, briefly showing her his teeth, and was gone, leaving her staring speechlessly after him.

Aalu was still fretting when she and her mate retired for the night, but for an altogether different reason this time.
Rek gently pulled her closer, nibbled at the back of her neck. “You worry too much,” he told her, with a gentle smile. “He’s probably just trying to fit in with the rest of the industrial youngsters; they argue about anything and everything. He’ll soon grow out of it.”
“I hope so…” she huddled closer, and shivered. “It was… oh, I don’t know…” she shook her head. “Scary, in a way… I’ve never seen him behave like that…!” Maybe…” she sat up. “Maybe he’s sick…!”
He clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes and gently pulled her back, and nuzzled her, gently. “If that’s the case, then he’ll probably be fine, after a nights sleep.”
“Is he asleep now?”
“Yes, I checked. He’s fast asleep,” Rek yawned, and showed all those fine, sharp teeth. “As I’m hoping to be, shortly…”
He was just starting to drift off to sleep when she asked, softly; “You think he’ll be okay then?”
“If you’re that worried,” he said, sleepily. “Take him to see Foggy tomorrow morning; I checked the rota, and he’s not busy…”

So, next morning found Dren scowling blackly in one of the examination rooms, making Xar’s job difficult. The little medic was trying to check his heartbeat, but the stethoscope was cold, and Dren didn’t like it, kept squirming.
“Will yer damn well sit still?” Xar snapped, sharply.
“That stupid thing’s cold!” Dren replied, equally sharply, and showed his teeth.
“Dren!” Aalu scolded, but Xar was already reciprocating in kind, wrinkling his lips away from his teeth, so she gave up after that.
After half an hour Xar could only shrug and tell her what he’d told her at the start – he couldn’t see anything wrong with the youngster; maybe he was just being bloody-minded, but there was certainly nothing physically wrong with him…
“I don’ like ‘im,” Dren told her, sullenly, head on her shoulder, as they walked away from the health centre.
“Oh, shush Dren,” she replied, tiredly. “There was no need for all that nonsense…”
Dren pouted. “Well, I still don’ like ‘im. He oughtter be careful, he’s goin’ to get in the neck one o’ these days…”
“Dren,” she warned, raising a finger. “Watch your manners. If you keep this up you’re going to be the one getting it in the neck…”
He shrugged, snorted, and looked away.
At a sudden commotion, the two looked up, argument forgotten, for the time being, at least. There were two mudokons, arguing by one of the elum pens.
“Well, it was all right last night!” one yelled, pointing at a fallen shape in the pen. “It wouldn’t just keel over and die, just like that, so you must have done something to it!”
“I didn’t do anything to it!” the other replied, arms folded across his chest. “You must have fed it something dodgy last night, I thought it had been acting weird…”
Aalu looked into the pen as they passed; one of the elums lay on its side, unmoving, – dead? she wondered. Yes, it looked it – its tongue lolled out and there was a look of pained fear in its soft eyes…
She shivered, involuntarily, and hurried on.

In the dim twilight of evening, a dark, brooding presence lay, dozing fitfully. He was hungry – he was always hungry – and weak. But then, cooped up for so many years, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised he was weak… Weak, and hungry. Hungry and weak.
After all, that elum had been healthy enough, but the lower intelligences never sustained him for long; never quite sated the ravening hunger that always burned in his mind… He needed to hunt for stronger prey.
He pushed himself to his feet, and padded off in search of a more… suitable quarry.

Chapter Two

It was early morning; the rising sun was busily painting the landscape in washed colour, and the dew was still heavy on the air. Not many of the adults were up yet, but most of the youngest generation, slig and mudokon alike, in a typically childlike manner, were up and active, and Aalu’s children were no different.
“Hey… hey! ‘Aura, c’mere!” it was Dren’s voice – high and excited.
Aura made her way over as fast as she could. “What is it?” she asked, watching as he rustled about in a patch of waist-high ferns and trying to see what he was up to.
“I found someone’s pants!” he said, excitedly. “Heh, now I c’n keep up wi’ th’lads…!”
“Yeah, an’ when their owner finds out yer nicked ‘em, yer fer the chop…” she said, dryly, then sniffed the air, thoughtfully. “I c’n smell blood.”
Dren emerged from the tall fronds, dragging the pants with some difficulty. “Prob’ly drunk,” he said, dismissively. “An’ cut ‘imself on a briar, or summat.”
“I dunno, Dren…” she shook her head. Can’t yer smell it?”
He sniffed, noisily. “Nope,” he shook his head. “I can’t smell nothin’. Well, not blood, anyroads,” and turned his attention back to the cybernetic legs he’d found. “C’mon, gimme a hand here…”
“Not until yer help me figure out why I can smell blood!”
“Fine, I’ll do it meself, then,” he pouted, and struggled into the dark metal contraption.
Aura scowled back, and turned away, padding into the tall vegetation. The scent of blood was stronger here, she was sure of it…
She followed her nose for a good while, pushing through the plants, until the tall plants thinned out to close cropped grass – one of the summer grazing paddocks for the elums, she guessed – and came to the first dull red patch, staining the short plants an ugly brown – she shivered. There was quite a lot here – no wonder the smell was so strong… she circumnavigated it, padded along the scent trail, knowing she should be going back now, knowing that she wouldn’t like what she’d find at the end of the trail, but unable to stop herself, all the same…
The tree the trail led to had another of those dull stains at the foot of its trunk, the scent of the dry blood now sharp and pungent – it was a fear scent, she realised…
Then, with her eyes, followed the trail of red up the tree.
The horribly mutilated body of one of Xar’s medics, suspended mudokon-height off the ground and impaled on a broken tree-branch, shattered ribs visible where the branch protruded, stared blindly back down at her, a look of utter terror frozen into his features.
She screamed.

The brooding malevolence watched with a smile as the medical team lifted their comrade’s cold, mangled body from where he’d hung it – the unfortunate creature had still been alive, at this point – on the tree. It had been fun, he mused, finally getting some better, more sustaining prey, even though he’d had to torture it a bit to get its Lifeglow a little brighter… And it was nice to know he still knew all the tricks, that all those long, long lonely years of imprisonment hadn’t stolen his skills…
He licked his fingers, cleaning the last traces of blood from below his blunt nails, not needing the life-fluid to survive but liking the taste, and giggled.

Bea went with Drek down to Medcentre the instant she heard what had happened.
Xar met her at the ward doorway, a haunted expression on his pinched features. “Through ‘ere,” he said, sharply. “We, uh… we finished examinin’ him… uh, he, uh…” he swallowed, and the words came out in a rush, as though they couldn’t get out fast enough. “He ain’t too pretty a sight, Boss Lady, whoever killed ‘im didn’ do it quick, an’, uh, Bea, mebbe I, uh, mebbe I better stay out here wi’ yer…”
Bea looked at him; he wouldn’t meet her gaze, at first, but when he did there was a stricken expression in his eyes. “Are you all right, Xar?”
“I, uh…” the medic said, but his voice was suddenly dry, and the words caught in his throat. He coughed, tried again. “I autopsied ‘im,” he jerked a thumb at the doorway, and heaved a shaking sigh. “I’m meant ter be his Alpha, an’ I autopsied ‘im… He was one o’ my pack, an’ I had ter cut ‘im t’pieces…!” That seemed to be the last straw – his face crumpled and he turned away, one hand going to his mouth.
Bea stayed silent, at first – what could she say, after all? Anyone who’d lost a brother would find it tough to cope – and it was especially tough for such a social creature… “Xar…” she tried at last, padding over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Xar, don’t blame yourself…”
He drew a shuddering breath. “I’m tryin’ not ter…” he said, in a hoarse whisper. “But it’s tough, y’know…?”
She nodded. “I know…” she gave him a sad smile. “Why don’t you go home, Xar?”
“They need me here…”
“Not right now they don’t. Go home, and get some sleep, and if I find you still here in five minutes,” her voice took on a hard edge, although both knew it was just for show. “I’ll get Tank to carry you. Okay?”
Xar managed the fleetingest of smiles in return. “I’ll try, Boss Lady…” he replied, hoarsely, shrugged off his jacket and left.
Bea turned to Drek – found he’d already gone through, and was trying to read Xar’s hideous scrawl, but kept getting distracted by the body, still laid out on the plastic covered bed in the empty ward.
“Drek…?” she said, gently.
He looked up, a sickened expression on his old face. “Who could've done this…?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head, solemnly. “But we’ll find out…”
“What if they kill again, though…?!”
“You think they will?”
“I’d stake my place in th’council on it, Bea… whoever could've done somethin’ as… as hateful… as this – and obviously enjoy it! – I’d be surprised if they didn’ kill again, and soon…”
She nodded, sorrowfully. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that, Drek…” she said, voice choked. “Because it’s the exact same thing as I was thinking.”
Drek put the clipboard with Xar’s notes back down on the bench and covered the body with a sheet, unable to stand seeing it any more. “How th’frack are we goin’ t’find ‘em, Bea…?” he asked, hoarsely.
She shook her head, helplessly. “We’d better call the council.”
“Yeah,” he turned away, headed for the door. “I’ll go tell ‘em…”
Bea was about to follow, but something caught her eye. She paused in her stride, backtracked a few steps. “Drek… come take a quick look at this…”
“Aw Bea, I don’ want ter look at that… that thing… no more…”
“Please, Drek…”
He winced, but went to her shoulder. “What?”
“Do you see those burns?” she pointed at the dead medic’s temples.
He squinted – his eyes were rheumy, and his eyesight was failing even more rapidly. “I think so… what about ‘em?”
“What could have made them, do you suppose?”
“Frack, I dunno. Can we go now?” He hated the way he sounded – like a bored child – but wanted to get out of there… “It’s givin’ me th’creeps, an’ makin’ me feel ill…”
Bea nodded, dropped the sheet back into place. “Yes… yes, certainly, I want to get out of here just as much as you do…” she replied, but she sounded somewhat absent, lost in thought.
Drek gave her a worried look, but vanished off to go and call the meeting.

Drek sat in his usual place at the far end of the massive stone table, and surveyed the faces before him. On his right sat Bea, studying her fingers, which were laced in front of her, and on his left was Arrik, a bad-tempered twelve-year-old slig, scowling as usual. Across from Arrik was Ben, a mud of an equivalent age, who seemed to enjoy verbally sparring with him. Next to him, discussing things in hushed voices, were Sker’rikka and K’zen (Sker and Zen for short), two of the fiercely proud slig natives that had set up home close to town. Tay and Rin, two more mudokons, sat opposite, silently brooding. There were a handful of lower ranking councillors clustered at the far end, all chattering worriedly and quietly, and, behind Drek, Hak was a brooding presence, there more to act as a calming influence on the younger, more excitable councillors than anything.
Drek cleared his throat. “I’m sure yer all heard what happened,” he said, calmly. “So I don’ need to explain, other than one o’ the medics was killed last night. I want ter discuss our options, gentlepeeps,” and sighed. “If we have any.”
There was a murmur of agreement. “Yeah, we all heard about it, Drek,” Ben said, sadly. “I met Xar, too – he looked pretty cut up about it.”
“So would yer be,” Arrik cut in, softly. “If one o’ yer brothers had just been murdered.”
Ben opened his mouth to shoot back a suitably scathing comment – Drek raised his hands, “Come on, lads, please… don’ go arguin’ already…” he said, tiredly. “We need some ideas. I’m guessin’ our culprit will strike again at some point, havin’ seen his, uhm… handiwork…” he winced. “An’ we want ter be able ter catch ‘im before he kills.”
“I don’t see what we can do, yet…” Tay said, softly. “Pains me to admit it, but our search teams didn’t find even a scrap of a clue at the site, today. It’s as if he killed himself.”
Sker nodded agreement. “We didn’t find anything, either,” he said, in that sharp, reedy voice. “Our best hunters found nothing. No scents. No scraps of weapon. Nothing. Just a…” he frowned, shook his head. “Just a somewhat… burnt, almost metallic smell on the air.”
Bea gave him a curious look. “Burnt, you say?”
Sker cocked his head. “Yes; why d’you ask, Bea?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just… a little odd…” and smiled, wanly. “Don’t mind me, I’m not making much sense to myself at the moment. And, uh, forgive me for telling you how to do your job, but shouldn’t you ought to start coming up with ideas…?”
Drek leaned closer, while the others brainstormed – or tried to. “Bea… Didn’ you find burns on his temples…?” he asked, softly.
The old lady nodded, solemnly.
“Think it means somethin’?”
“I don’t like to hazard any guesses yet, Drek, but I think it may do.”
“Yeah, but… what?”
She just shook her head, and wouldn’t be drawn further.

Hak strode along next to Drek as the two made their way over to the ‘police station’ on the outskirts of town; the meeting had come to, in Drek’s mind, a very unsatisfactory conclusion – nightly patrols were being doubled, and that was it. But then, he mused, it was pretty much all they could do, really…
“Reckon we’ll find ‘im very quick?” Hak asked, softly, rousing Drek from his reverie.
Drek looked up at his giant pack-mate. “I dunno, Hak,” he replied, softly, chewing on a fingernail. “I hope so, but…”
“Yer don’ think we will, do yer?”
Drek shook his head, solemnly. “No,” he admitted. “An’ I’m worried he’ll kill a lot more before then…”

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Anyway. Comments welcome, as usual... *grins*