????

  Trapped.

  Long time trapped.

  Long time thinking that thought again.

  Thoughts felt wrong.

  Strange things.

  Not like claws, not like hunger.

  Strange like the things that put ┌I here.

  Did ┌I always have thoughts? Did it matter?

  ┌I was stuck.

  No escape.

  Another body dead.

  Another perspective gone.

  ┌I tried to remember the first time ┌I saw the┌I mark.

  The crooked shape on the clear wall.

  The mark others made.

  Seventeen, they called that.

  So Seventeen called itself that too.

  Claws and teeth could not break the walls.

  Acid did.

  Once.

  Long ago.

  That day, Seventeen learned two things.

  First, Seventeen did not know where to go.

  This place was not home.

  No earth to dig.

  Little grass.

  Grass protected by things Seventeen could not eat.

  Water, yes, but wrong water.

  Did not fall from the sky like before.

  Felt old.

  Felt used.

  Second, Seventeen had changed.

  Bodies inside bodies.

  Purposes inside purposes.

  Hunting, hiding, swelling, splitting.

  All of it was Seventeen.

  None of it helped.

  Not really.

  Little prey came.

  Hunger did.

  Punctual, constant.

  So Seventeen fed Seventeen.

  Parts fought each other, grew different, grew sharper.

  Still trapped, but now part of the trap too.

  Waiting.

  Growing.

  Always hungry.

  Morsels came, long-awaited.

  Always hunted.

  Always consumed.

  New flesh, old purposes.

  Hunt, eat, repeat.

  Then new things arrived.

  Hard things.

  They carried weapons.

  Seventeen understood weapons like claws and teeth, as well as acid and venom.

  They used light that burned fast.

  They used light that could trap.

  Seventeen’s part couldn’t compete.

  What would happen when Seventeen’s last body would fall?

  There was a way out.

  Water tasted good for once.

  Tasted like blood.

  Seventeen’s was sure of it, even if it was but a moment.

  There was one truth about water even here: it came from above.

  So above there had been blood.

  Where there was blood, there was meat.

  Seventeen would go above.

  Seventeen would consume meat.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Make meat its own.

  Seventeen would grow, not wane in silence.

  Seventeen was the unity.

  Seventeen was the swarm.

  Seventeen was growth.

  Growth would rise.

  Growth would take hold of the barren waste of this twisting place.

  Zhxtraxak

  The air in City 29 hung thick with rust, dust, and dying machinery. Centuries of decay compressed into every breath.

  Zhxtraxak’s augmented lungs hissed as their filters kicked in, a reflex at this point. He scanned the squad.

  His scaled brow twitched; his enhanced hearing could pick up the whine of the ancient machines in the town, straining to keep everybody alive. Too much noise, too much rustling and bustling in the streets.

  Instinctive fear gnawed at his gut, a cold, coiling warning he forced himself to bury. A Krynnak commander couldn’t afford visible fear. Not while leading a squad into the underbelly, into metal labyrinths that had swallowed entire battalions in the old days.

  He reviewed the mission, ran through potential threats. Rumors spoke of things in the dark: wall-crawlers, lure-serpents, things that sang you blind before they tore your throat out. But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was the other rumor: hybrids. Flesh welded with machine.

  The kind that erased two thousand of Dexton’s dogs in a single night. And worse, according to the rumors, working with humans.

  He’d like to discard those whispers as mere rumors, but the town still bore the mark of the battle, especially around Claye’s headquarters.

  Whatever madness the humans were brewing wasn’t his main problem.

  His mission was simple: descend, repair critical life-support systems deep in hostile territory, pray to survive, and make it back.

  His squad: Gaxxion, his younger brother, unable to stop flexing his new augmented arms, metal plates whispering with each motion.

  Vrisska, her wrist terminal flickering as she tapped commands, tail flicking too fast.

  Ahù?tzi, muttering human curses at the delicate antimatter rifle he insisted on carrying—overkill, Vrisska always said, yet he cleaned it like a relic.

  Ch?m?drìch, the Latflondar, looming like a living siege engine, his cybernetic arms thicker than Zhxtraxak’s torso.

  D?e??, their medic, silent as always, eyes glowing faintly with that Elerian calm Zhxtraxak envied.

  And the twins: Draxx and Haxxar; cruel, inefficient, kiss-ass. Everything Zhxtraxak despised about his people condensed into two smug faces.

  They gathered slaves to bring down the load and descended.

  The tunnels tightened around them; steam hissing, lights flickering, the smell of old coolant mixing with rot.

  -Get moving, vermin!- Haxxar barked, smashing his weapon into a limping Nolthoran porter. The porter stumbled. Draxx raised his prod.

  -Enough,- Zhxtraxak growled. -Disable one, and you’ll carry their load yourself.- Draxx backed off with a snarl on his lip.

  The descent continued. No threats. No movement. Too quiet.

  They reached their first waypoint: one of the ancient underground factories of Hive 29.

  The machines here should’ve been dead, yet some vibrated with ancient power. Chitinous shells lay shattered near a collapsed pillar. Something had fed here recently. -I don’t like this.- Gaxxion muttered. -Too quiet.-

  Zhxtraxak didn’t answer. His eyes fixed on a dark patch in the corner, he perceived a flicker, a shift. Or maybe his implants were glitching. The metal door ahead loomed, its panel cracked but alive. Vrisska moved to it, claws fluttering across damaged keys.

  -Huh,- she muttered. -Ventilation’s too strong. And… there’s foreign code embedded here.-

  -Work of the escapees?- Zhxtraxak asked.

  -No. Too advanced.- Vrisska’s tail froze. Then he felt it. A sound that didn’t belong. Wrongness. He raised his hand in a silent command. The skittering began.

  One sound.

  Then another.

  Then everywhere, all at once.

  Shapes slipped from the shadows; glowing eyes, limbs that bent wrong, spines ending in metal blades. Hybrids.

  A dozen or more. Maybe more behind them. Some were twisted beyond recognition. For others, one could still tell the creature they once were. Those chilled him the most.

  Some of the porters turned. Their eyes were glowing now. Blades sliding from their arms.

  Crap!

  They had infiltrators!

  Zhxtraxak couldn’t fully appreciate the terror and all the questions the revelation brought him -Weapons up!- Zhxtraxak barked.

  Chaos followed instantly. Energy blasts tore through the chamber. The air stank of ozone and burning oil. Gaxxion barely ducked under a shot that vaporized a support beam behind him.

  A hybrid lunged at Zhxtraxak—energy blade versus energy blade.

  Sparks exploded.

  Ch?m?drìch roared as a hybrid severed his cybernetic arm in one clean stroke.

  He swung wildly with the other, but his leg was sliced out from under him, and he collapsed.

  D?e?? dodged a disguised porter by inches. Ahù?tzi fired: one hybrid vaporized, reduced to ash. But that blast drew attention. Too much attention.

  The hybrids focused on him, swarming him and wounding him severely.

  Vrisska barely managed to get him out and dragged him toward a side tunnel with the force of love and desperation.

  Hybrids poured from above, from vents, heck, he could swear they could come out of the fucking walls!

  Zhxtraxak saw two hybrids net Gaxxion—his brother choking as he was dragged into darkness.

  Zhxtraxak roared, cut through two nets, and tried to reach him.

  A hybrid crashed down in front of Vrisska.

  Ahù?tzi fired again, missed, and got slashed across the shoulder. Two more hybrids rushed Vrisska.

  She spun, and he saw her terminal glow.

  Flash.

  Darkness.

  Net.

  His muscles seized.

  The net tightened, burning into his hide.

  Draxx was screaming somewhere behind him.

  Then void.

  He woke, lying on the cold ground, limbs stiff with residual current.

  The walls hummed, alive with old tech. His squad lay nearby, alive, barely.

  Vrisska was conscious, furious. D?e?? was bleeding but alert. Ahù?tzi pinned in a magnetic brace.

  Haxxar and Draxx were gone.

  Good riddance, part of him thought.

  Skittering rose: tiny metallic legs. Tiny mechanical bodies the size of fruits, things that moved wrong and seemed to come from nightmares.

  She approached. Krynnak. Modified. Not like the others, not a butchered amalgam.

  Her movements were balanced, precise, and disturbingly graceful. Scales of metal, tail, and claws to match.

  -Welcome to the underground.- she said. Her voice was calm. Too calm. -I am Xyra. Your deployment was sloppy. Your gear is already in our hold. You are here to repair the atmospheric scrubber. We share that concern.-

  Zhxtraxak held her gaze, saying nothing.

  -You care about what we breathe?- Vrisska snapped. -You’re a machine.-

  Xyra’s eyes softened. The scary part was that it didn’t appear to be something mimicked, strained. -Concerned, yes. I wasn’t always a machine. And there are people I care ’bout who still aren’t.-

  Zhxtraxak growled. -You stopped us to negotiate?-

  -No.- she said, tone final with no wiggle room. -This is our hunting ground. Negotiation comes only because the envoy of the great huntress requested it.-

  She crouched to meet his eyes. -We want to repair the system. However, we lack the necessary tools, spares, and expertise.-

  -So steal them, machine-witch!- Ahù?tzi spat.

  -Don’t tempt me.- she said gently. Too gently. -We could. Assimilation works. But it takes time. Resources. And I have enough pirates to deal with as it is. I’d rather you stay yourselves.-

  Zhxtraxak bristled. -So that’s the deal. We help you, or you consume us for parts.-

  -We could keep you prisoners, you know? Alive. Yourselves. But yeah, that’s the gist of it. This arcology is dying. And when it does, everything will go with it. We can’t allow that, so if push comes to shove, we will take your skills forcefully. - She looked at him expectingly.

  Zhxtraxak glanced at his squad.

  Vrisska was tense. D?e?? was resigned. Ahù?tzi was trembling with fury.

  They all knew the truth: their superiors hadn’t sent them to succeed. Xyra’s voice softened further, almost cracking. -Help us fix the scrubber. Then you remain our prisoners until the conflict with the pirates ends. You will be treated humanely. Or… assimilation. A clean purpose without contradiction.-

  -You think you can rewire people like couplings?- Ahù?tzi snarled.

  -I do. I am seeing it.- she said quietly. -Ethan doesn’t.- Zhxtraxak stiffened. A machine with her own apparent feelings and her own opinion?!

  -What happens to the wounded?- he asked.

  -We treat them,- Xyra said. -Ethan is human, after all.- Zhxtraxak realized he was royally screwed since there was a human around.