[Splat]

Woo, it's my latest update of this story so far: over two weeks late! Go me!

Assuming you haven't all forgotten who I am by now, prepare for a new chapter. This is the last in Krik's first appearance in the story; next week'll be starting on a new character (though one who has already been introduced - can you see the mystery leeking from the screen?), assuming of course I get a new chapter written in time.
Largely due to being very rushed and a writers block the size of a planet, this chapter isn't my favourite, particularly the second half on it which was written at high speed earlier today. There might be (read: almost certainly will be) some mistakes in this so feel free to point them out if you spot them. I can't edit it if I don't know it's there! Also my ability to form sensible paragraphs seemed to vanish while I was writing this.

Anyway, I'll get on with it.
Get's a bit Frankenstein-esque in this chapter. It does explain why Krik's almost forgotten by the time of W@RF.
Pacon is the Oddworld equivilent of bacon, taken from paramites, as of T-nex saying so.

Chapter 12

Two nights later Krik crept out again and this time returned to his room with 14 eggs. By day he worked for Skillya and by night he worked for himself, silently laughing at how easy it was. All that intimidation was just a façade, hiding how easy it was to act against her wishes.

He knew Cekyll was suspicious of him; after all, he’d gone from miserable to nearly gleeful in the space of three nights. He packed away the last two years’ work without complaint while his thoughts drifted to the real work, the work on those eggs. Once he found a formula that he could inject into them without them dying he would take it to someone sane – the Vykker’s Council, or maybe Queen Margaret herself – and show them how he could improve slig workers. And what next? Mudokon labourers all obedient and hard working – proving all along how Krik had been right about mudokon slavery?

The work on the slig eggs progressed quickly as most of the work had already been done over the last two years and even as Krik worked his mind began to drift onto other things. His thoughts fell back to his days of training and he remembered when he had once expressed a wish to do work on the species Queens to his tutor, Zimbago. The suggestion had met with disaster but now… here was the opportunity! Not psychology of course, he’d given that up years ago, but maybe he could try and apply his work on the Mock Queen project to Skillya!

Sligs were different to mudokons so he would need blood samples from Skillya. He lay in bed for a night thinking over excuses for taking blood samples from the slig Queen and eventually decided to talk it over with Cekyll.

The following day as Cekyll worked in the laboratory and Krik wasted time, he wandered over to the younger vykker and announced, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh dear.”

“Please! I’m being serious.”

“Oh dear, oh dear.”

Krik rolled his eyes, “So what are you working on so frantically over here?”

Cekyll answered delicately, “That is none of your business. I suggest you tell me your idea now so as not to waste any more of my time.”

Krik paused, “I was thinking of asking Skillya if I could take a blood sample from her.”

“Oh that’s a great idea.” Cekyll replied without looking up.

Krik was so surprised that words failed him.

“Of course,” The younger Vykker added slowly, “You may want to start drinking mayonnaise and bathing in pacon-fat first, just to save her some time.”

Krik growled at him angrily and stalked away.

“Well what were you expecting?” Cekyll demanded as he left the lab.

Breaking into Skillya’s chamber at night proved to be significantly harder than breaking into the hatchery, but Krik found a way. The main entrance to her lair was of course heavily guarded. However, there was a passage that ran from her chamber that led to her kitchen where she had her slaves prepare her culinary creations. From the kitchen was a doorway which led to a storeroom, which was in turn connected to the other large storerooms in the facility. The entrance to one of these rooms was unguarded most of the time since it was nearly empty, and Krik managed to slip in there and make his way through her kitchen, which was blessedly kept clean so there was nothing unpleasant to see when he passed through, and into her chamber.

As silently as he could he approached her massive sleeping bulk. He walked up on her right side and eased a syringe into her side, just beyond her right shoulder. For a second he held his breath, Silence pressed around his ears and he relaxed ever so slightly and pulled out the handle, drawing out her blood. The large syringe he was using was just over half full when her arm moved back. As quickly as he could he drew out the syringe and stumbled back as she scratched the bleeding spot in her sleep.

Smiling coolly, he backed away from her and stumbled into a heap of gold which fell over with a crunch, sending lumps of gold and jewels tinkling across the floor with a noise that seemed as load as an explosion to Krik. He froze in terror.

Skillya remained asleep. Eventually Krik regained control of his limbs and hurried out of the hall and back to his chamber as quickly as he dared.

The following day he was more nervous than a cornered paramite. Every time a slig walked past the lab he stiffened and he jerked whenever Cekyll spoke to him. Eventually his fellow vykker asked him if he was feeling alright.

“Fine, fine,” He replied unconvincingly, “Just didn’t sleep well last night, set me on edge a bit,” And he smiled more meekly than he had meant to.

The day passed without word from Skillya, and Krik had a sleepless night expecting any minute for a gang of sligs to enter his room and arrest him.

A week went by and the only trouble Krik heard of was Cekyll complaining that he was being held here longer than he would have hoped. “You make it sound like we’re prisoners,” Krik said with a laugh. Cekyll’s reply was a dark look.

Cekyll’s comment put Krik in a foul mood and he characteristically decided to react with defiance. That night he crept into Skillya’s chamber for a second time and took a sample from her side, a few feet closer to the end of her ribcage where blood would be harder to draw but she was less sensitive. This time she didn’t react and, with renewed confidence, Krik went back the following day and took his third sample. Upon returning to his room he immediately dug up his old project and began working on a formula that should make her produce more eggs in each nest.

Since he was only acting on a small section of the research he had done in the past, and since it was a section he had completed previously, he progressed quickly.

Two days after he took his third sample a pair of sligs came into the lab during the evening. Krik froze, and felt an odd mix of relief and dread when they asked for Cekyll.

The younger vykker left and, since it was getting late, Krik packed up his work and hurried off to his room to continue on his work on the fertility drug before sleep.

He woke up the following morning and left his room to find Cekyll waiting for him, looking livid. When he spoke it sounded as if he was straining to keep his voice calm. “Skillya thinks some creature has been biting her.” Krik looked at him indifferently and pushed past. He felt cold metal pressed against the back of his neck and froze. “I know a syringe mark when I see one,” Cekyll grunted, breathing heavily. “I’m no fool. What have you done to her?”

“What are you talking about now?” Krik hissed, sounding irritated and nervous.

“Three times she’s been stabbed by a syringe. I’m not letting you get me killed.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea-” Krik froze as the blade pressed into his neck, cutting his skin.

“Don’t take me for an idiot. I told her I thought they were fleech bites and suggested she put some poison around, but if it happens again I won’t cover for you. You can get yourself killed if you want but you’re not taking me with you.”

Cekyll walked away, dropping the scalpel he’d been threatening Krik with. Krik rubbed his neck and watched him leave, anger surging through him. He’d show that young idiot!

He returned to his room immediately and began frantic work on the drug. He spent the whole day and most of the night on it and then slept most of the following day, emerging from his room in the late afternoon and heading for the lab, where he continued to develop the formula, indifferent as to whether or not Cekyll saw what he was doing.

Again he spent the whole night at work in his room and then most of the following day in the lab. Cekyll expressed no interest in what he was doing. Too drowsy to keep working, he went to bed mid afternoon.

For the next three weeks he continued to work in this way, sleeping as little as he could manage and at no particular time. It obviously annoyed Cekyll but Krik pushed that thought to the back of his mind, as well as the thought that working like this might gain Skillya’s suspicion.

But the work paid off and Krik arrived at a formula that he felt confident would increase Skillya’s fertility without harming her to any significant level. The following night he crept out of his room and through the storerooms and kitchens into her chamber. He halted in the doorway, looking across the dark cavern to her bulk. She was lying still and breathing deeply, definitely asleep. Once more, Krik crept carefully to her side and drew out the syringe loaded with the drug. He pressed it gently into her side.

Her body tensed suddenly. Krik’s head shot up and he found himself looking straight into her eyes. She was staring at him, apparently too shocked to react, and then suddenly she began screaming with rage, roaring in sliggish. Krik stumbled back and fell over onto a pile of treasure. She hauled her body round and made to lunge at him but he scrambled to his feet and ran for all he was worth, down the passage into her kitchen. The kitchen door burst open, the sligs outside having heard their mother’s screaming, and quickly aimed their weapons at Krik. He tried to run past them.

Krik found himself sprawled on the floor, unsure of when or why he’d fallen over. Before he could get up six or seven sligs were standing around him, their guns all pointed at his head.

* * *

Krik was locked inside one of the cells reserved for disobedient sligs and future dinner courses. For four days he was kept there, seeing no one but the slig guards who occasionally came over to taunt him. Krik had thought he would never be happy to see Cekyll but when he appeared outside the cell Krik felt as if he could have run over and kissed him if there hadn’t been a big metal door preventing it. Cekyll observed him with a look of disgust.

“All those times I warned you and you still end up in here.”

“What is she planning to do with me?” Krik asked with a note of desperation in his voice.

“Last I heard, she was planning to break your arms off first, since there isn’t much meat on them, and then roast you alive. And before you ask, I’m not joking.”

Krik looked at him wide-eyed, “You have to get me out of here!”

“Ha! What do you expect me to do, go up to her and tell her you didn’t mean it? Ask her politely to let you go? I’ll be in the oven next to you!”

“Tell someone!” Krik begged, “The Magog Cartel; the Vykker’s Council!”

“The Magog Cartel won’t care about you after what you did, and the Council doesn’t have the power to overrule Skillya. Anyway, how would I tell them? I can’t use the fone without her permission.” He paused, “I gave you enough warning. It’s your fault you’re in there and I won’t gain anything from helping you again.”

“I’ll make it worth your while!” Krik gasped. Cekyll looked at him critically. “I took blood samples from Skillya.”

“Oh yes? And where are they? They searched your rooms. I think if they’d found blood I’d have heard.”

“I didn’t leave it out in the open! It’s hidden, amongst my other things. It’d fetch a fortune if you know who to sell it too.” Cekyll looked uncertain. “I wouldn’t inject her with anything without testing it first! I took three samples, yes? Two I used up to test the fertility formula. I can tell you where to find the other if you promise to get me out!”

Krik was lying of course. He’d used the first, incomplete sample, and nothing more. That left him with two samples left, but his pride and greed stopped him from promising all he had.

Cekyll was silent for over a minute, thinking. Eventually he asked. “Alright, you tell me where it’s hidden and I’ll do what I can.”

Krik never found out how he did it, but just two days later a dozen vykkers turned up and demanded Krik’s release. Skillya, unsurprisingly, refused, until they reminded her that they sent any criminal sligs to her, and if they expected that to continue then she should accept that any criminal vykkers should be returned to them. Very reluctantly, Skillya agreed.

Krik was released from his cell and led under guard into a train carriage, alongside his equipment. As soon as he was alone with his luggage he made sure the second syringe of Skillya’s blood was secure, and destroyed the copy of his mock-queen research that he had with him; since he had been ordered by Queen Margaret to destroy that years ago he wasn’t taking any risks.

When Krik got off the train he was surprised to find himself still kept under guard. He was led to one of the councillors whom he asked quietly, “Is it necessary to keep this charade going so long? Surely Skillya won’t know if you release me now.”

The vykker looked surprised. “You think this whole thing is a mock-up?” He led Krik into a large room filled mostly with seats, taken up by about fifty vykkers. Sligs guarded the doors. “You broke the law and now you stand trial.”

The only comfort Krik had was that whatever the vykkers did to him, it was likely to be considerably less unpleasant than what Skillya had had in mind.

He was found guilty of assault on the Slig Queen. The punishment came in two parts: firstly, to Krik’s horror, he was forbidden from being credited for any work he did, which meant a changing to the branding of DNAse stating it was made by Homes’ Lab, instead of by Krik, his books and essays on mudokon labour would also be changed in the same way, and any product he made in the future would not be named as his.

Secondly, Krik was prevented from buying any medical or scientific equipment, or employing interns, sligs or mudokons. The result was that Krik could never own his own lab, and the only time he would be able to work was if he was working for someone else.

* * *

Skillya was enraged by how the Vykker’s Council had overruled her so easily and demanded to the Magog Cartel dissolve the organisation. The Cartel initially refused, but when Skillya didn’t produce any eggs for nearly six months, regardless of how much treasure she was offered, Queen Margaret broke down and agreed. The Vykker’s Council was wiped out.

A few days later Dr Emlech put his own plan into action. He arranged a meeting between the top scientists, the heads of the different fields; doctors, psychologists, physicists, professors, called together to discuss and share ideas.

Eight vykkers attended the first meeting. They all found it so useful that when they met again two months later there were nearly forty of them. Over the next few years the meetings grew and grew and eventually it was decided that for them to continue in any reasonable level of order, a leader would have to be chosen.

The eight vykkers who attended the first meeting were all put up for election for the position, though they were all confident that Emlech would win. Emlech, however, had no desire to be in charge of their meetings, firstly because it would draw attention to him, which was something he had been trying to avoid all his life, and secondly if the whole thing came crashing down he didn’t want to be the one on top, as they would have furthest to fall.

The problem was that if it looked like he was avoiding the position then people would become suspicious. However, when Emlech failed to attend several meetings leading up to the election the other potential leaders began to feel more confident.

In the end, Emlech came third in the election. The new leader’s first action was to give the meetings the official name, ‘The Vykker’s Conglomerate’. Fifteen years later it had more power, more influence and more money than the Vykker’s Council had ever possessed. Then, thanks to a pair of terrorists, it all went up in smoke.

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Reply for the story, guv'nor?

EDIT: I just noticed that the spelling of 'Cekyll' changed to 'Ceckyl' somewhere along the way. I've tried to fix it.