My Extended Death

—A serialized novelette from the worlds of the Human Legion—

Part 6

In ser last moments outside the Nest, Sentwalin activated the throat mic slaved to the battlesuit’s comms unit. Via the transmitter miles above at Betoto Parc, sie sent ser final words to ser pup and, if it was inclined to listen, civilization at large.

Dearest Keligomo. My pup. I never told you that I joined the crowd watching you board your transport. Never told you how proud I feel that you became a soldier. You are the reason I am here now, and I thank you for that.

Somewhere, in the trenches of Adhra Pili or the battlesats swarming around Lumbwana–Tano, in whatever hell you are stationed, I hope this message finds you. I pray you live still and the war against the Slow Bugs brings you glory.

I leave you now to fulfill the promise I made long ago to your parent, my eternal lover, Kelile. Sie told me to live.

For the two centuries after I left my Pristine Colony and learned that the world outside had progressed, I imagined the promise sie wrought from me was that I should live. Your departure made me realize sie meant all three of us. Though what became of your sib, Achinee, I do not know.

My future is simple. I may be dead before this day is ended but I know that at my very end I shall return finally to life. For you, I can only hope your civilization takes note and learns from my example. In the suppression of your nature, you have cut out some vital spark. You are lacking.

You are empty.

To you, the Pristine Colony is an object of veneration and amusement, to be experienced through your remote observations, courtesy of the hoverbat recorders.

You are mistaken. You should, instead, see the Nest as the herald of victory, as the living remnant of the vitality you have forfeited, but you will need if you are to prevail in the war.

Otherwise, I fear the Slow Bug victory is inevitable.

Pay heed and farewell, my pup.

Warriors crowded around Sentwalin, ramming their horn haloes into ser face and body, trying to sniff meaning out of this intruder whose scent none of them remembered, and yet unmistakably smelled of the Nest. This worker-pathfinder made no sense.

A bladed forelimb lifted the throat mic from Sentwalin’s neck with surprising gentleness, in contrast to the ringing blows they dealt to the inactive battlesuit nearby. The crush of warriors began herding Sentwalin further into the Nest, sending one of their number ahead to summon the Great-Parent.

After two centuries of death, Sentwalin passed back into life through the West Gate. A tiny trace of Kelile’s scent lingered still, barely discernable except to someone who yearned for it. Ser scent enveloped Sentwalin who prayed to both Imagomu, God of the Deep, and Leshe, Source of all Life, that one day Keligomo too would smell ser parent.

Part 1  |  Part 2  | Part 3  | Part 4  | Part 5 | Part 6 | Author’s Notes

Text (c) 2015 by Tim C. Taylor.
All rights reserved.
Alien insect image (c) bluecrayola / Shutterstock