Beyond EXODUS - Brothers Ever After

March 2068. After being tipped by the ROPES team, EXODUS Ambassador Andrakta Daevka decides to join his older brother Lest for a drink in New Langdon. It's about the past, as it usually is. A past the devsk would rather run away from. A past that keeps tormenting them.

“How can you sell this crap to the naked monkeys and be paid for it, Lest?”

“Their taste suck. Simple as that.”

A scaly hand pushed the glass down on the counter, groaning with extreme annoyance. Empty, of course. Despite his scathing remark, he had downed all what filled it until minutes sooner. Alcohol tasted funny to him, even with additives to facilitate its assimilation. Yet, it was amazing that it made its way into the cultural heritage of two species which developed light years apart. There had to be some universal rule that made the discovery of fermentation a constant. You can’t evolve if you don’t learn how to brew ‘beer’—that was how the naked monkeys called it. But, again, ‘monkey’ was also a word he borrowed. There was nothing similar in the records of his long lost planet. There were ‘mammals’, in some shape or form, but nothing as developed as the bipedal dwellers of that scrap of oxygenated land, which was floating at the outskirts of the ‘Milky Way’ (Roen ta Nekto sounded much better, but good luck having a human pronounce that correctly).

Ambassador Andrakta of the Daevka brood didn’t know what to think of it. Whenever their scientists hypothesized alien life forms, all they could think of were eight-limbed jellyfish, space slugs or even kinda sorta furballs. Exotic monsters, strange and fascinating lifeforms that transcended understanding—not bipedal mammals with disgustingly naked skin. Still, that’s how things went. That had to be the universe’s way of laughing at them, after causing their star to burn itself to a crisp. A cosmic middle finger (as humans would say, since devsks didn’t have a middle finger) of catastrophic proportions, evidence, at least to Andrakta, that gods didn’t exist. Or that, if they existed, they were either deaf to the pleas of their worshippers or actively enjoying bringing mayhem to their pathetic lives.

The massive devsk glanced around again, before sipping one more hint of alcohol. Humans, much like devsks, came in every shape, form and color. Their hair must have had the same function as the pigmented scales at the top of a devsk’s head. Dkrav’lest’s were red, Andrakta’s were of a bright yellow, despite both coming from the same brood, even. It wasn’t unusual for brood siblings to be born with wildly varying colors. His favorite brood son, Lenks, was an albino devsk too. So many possible variants, so few of them with exactly the same shades.

Still, way too many humans around. A couple of shoigas in a corner were looking at him, pointing their claws at him, bolstered by their disgusting tailless rhepp hides. Andrakta snickered. Genetically engineered slave races shouldn’t have never achieved freedom. They were not able to manage it, they were not able to live in a rules-abiding society. Whenever shoigas were granted a tiny bit of independence, they always squandered it. No, shoigas were not meant to be able to make their own life decisions, no matter if sannzo or rhepp. That ship had unfortunately already sailed long before, in no small part thanks to his dear brother. Nothing Andrakta could do or think had any effects on it, except heightening his frustration and feeling of powerlessness. Still, being born a slave had to be as frustrating, if not more. He might have not been completely convinced that freeing all shoigas were the right idea, but maybe, just maybe, that was the only possible and realistic solution. After all, even if shoigas were born as artificial servants, they were still sentient creatures. Food for thought, but not for a mind that started feeling the effects of alcohol.

The dazzling lights flashing all over the venue heightened Andrakta’s discomfort, made it worse than it already was. Scantily clad naked monkeys were trotting around him, some eyeing him too, giggling at him. The sexual dimorphism in humans was rather evident, with the females developing big lumps of fat on their chest that offered no advantage except sexual arousal. Now, many such females were bringing drinks around on their platters, some of them so scandalously underdressed that the ‘naked’ in ‘naked monkey’ couldn’t even be considered an euphemism. Most of them worked there, as employees of that decadent strip club. Most of them were ‘playing the part’, as Lest used to say. Selling their bodies for money—where was the honor and beauty in that?

Dkrav’lest’s voice turned his attention back to the drinks, to the counter.

“You aren’t here for pleasure, I take it?”

Those words hit like a truck, words spoken in their native dialect. It wasn’t even standard kraalian, more like a variant born in the third ring of EXODUS, one that no human or Earthbound shoiga knew. Andrakta and Dkrav’lest were the only two devsks in that bar. That meant that, hopefully, nobody else could eavesdrop their conversation, even if they tried to. The deafening noise was also making recording it almost impossible. Andrakta grinned. Finally one advantage of choosing that horribly inadequate place to talk business.

“If I wanted pleasure, I wouldn’t come here. Too many humans and no quiet corner.”

“Says the chief devsk ambassador on Earth.”

Andrakta gulped down more of his drink. Despite everything, he couldn’t resist the allure of well-brewed beer.

“I don’t need to mingle with them. I need to be sure humans don’t cause trouble… and that devsks don’t cause trouble for humans. Not that it ever happened. We’ve always upheld our end of the deal… contrary to them.”

Dkrav’lest nodded slowly, massaging his gray beard. The fact that a devsk could even grow body hair had been puzzling to Andrakta, until he found out that it might have been an artificial graft—rumors were still split on it. Some said devsks could grow hair, some were strongly denying it. Given enough time, that might have been possible. Still, was Lest that old? Word on EXODUS was that his brood brother wanted to look older by human standards. Something something authoritative elder something. A load of bollocks, if Andrakta were asked. But he wasn’t, so he just had to accept that the beard-bearing devsk with dark glasses sitting on the other side of the counter was, indeed, his older brood brother Lest. Andrakta locked eyes with him, resting his elbows on the counter. His attire didn’t scream ‘important diplomat’. If anything, he could have been mistaken for a run-of-the-mill devsk biker. That was, however, exactly what he wanted. A normal get together between brood siblings, all there was to it.

Except, of course, that wasn’t the case at all.

Andrakta tapped his claw on the counter, whispered in the chaotic music that shielded them from the outsiders.

“We’ve been tipped about Irakto, Lest.”

Dkrav’lest’s hand stopped mid way to grabbing a bottle of whiskey. An instant. Just an instant, before going on as if nothing happened, as if nothing were said. He lazily poured some of the alcoholic beverage in a glass, brought it to his mouth, sipped a little of it. Irakto. Long time since he last heard that name. A name that was carrying the mark of shame for his species, not just for himself. A name he’d rather have forgotten about.

“Who?”

Andrakta whispered even lower, his words slithered out like snakes between rock-hard sounds and hisses.

“The scarred bitch of Yard.”

Dkrav’lest rolled his eyes, almost bit his tongue.

“Oh, for Kraal’s sake. Fuck her and her lion pup.”

Of course. Of course it had to be Rainer. Whenever something went sideways, Rainer was always involved. A supernatural serial killer of strippers and prostitutes? Rainer was assigned to the case. A cult of wackos deifying the rekashiza? Rainer was on it. A cloud of dead information impersonating a dead mass murderer? Guess again? Rainer. Dkrav’lest sat down in front of Andrakta, groaned loudly. If Rainer were involved, it could only mean trouble. Not necessarily because she caused it, but because she followed it, like the hound she was often compared with. A hound that, at least according to the rumor, was now in a stable relationship. One she had been able to keep for longer than six months—with his beloved Kari, of all people, his retired star stripper that was as straight as spaghetti… until falling for that lesbian casanova. Like countless women before her. Dkrav’lest wasn’t one for gossip, but rumor had it that Veckert Rainer’s score was in the high octoctals of girls bedded. The number of those who remained for more than one night, though, could probably be counted on the fingers of maybe two hands. Or one. Or half. Well, her love life was not his business and she could screw whoever she wanted. That, however, didn’t change the fact that her name popped up yet again. Andrakta’s face told the same story, between a sip of his drink and the next. Yeah, that name meant trouble, no matter the context. Andrakta continued, growling his words out with relentless slowness.

“She sent us… medical records from an autopsy, Lest. The body… what was left of it, that is, was kept together by her cells.”

“Her?”

“Irakto has a mind of her own. She thinks. She’s sentient.”

“Yes, but her? For Kraal’s sake, Irakto is a clump of cells!”

Andrakta shrugged, lowered his mug.

“Look, it doesn’t feel right and neither does he.”

“I’m the linguist of the brood, Rak—Irakto is an it, alright? A thing, by any definition of the word. Unique? A thing. Living? A thing. Sentient? Still a thing. But, okay, fine! If it makes it better for you, let’s call her a she. So what? What about her? And why now, of all times?!”

Andrakta left the glass on the counter. He glanced around the bar, looked at the dazzling lights, at the silhouettes dancing without a care in the world, at the mix of human sweat and pheromones spreading like plague in the still air. He wished he had an answer. He wished he could explain that simply. The truth wasn’t easy, though. The truth was a blade that could carve his own heart, if told without filters. His voice trembled a little, before the first cracking sounds emerged from his mouth once again.

“I know it sounds wild, Lest...”

“Wild? We’re talking about an extinction-level bioweapon that we lost on this goddamn planet almost five octals ago, Kraal forfend! I was lucky that I had already left my position, because otherwise…”

“…yeah, I had to deal with the fallout. It wasn’t pleasant. Thanks for asking.”

Andrakta shook his empty glass, closed his eyes.

“Another one, please.”

“On the house.”

Dkrav’lest poured another drought beer into his brother’s mug, watched the alcohol flow under the shifting lights of the night club. Shimmering. Sparkling. Liquid soothing easing Andrakta’s pain, easing his feeling of being inadequate. The embarrassment in front of the Earth delegation when he had to explain what Irakto was. The horrifying feeling of having to bow to a race of degenerate aliens, beg for forgiveness, before they single-handedly decided to blow up EXODUS. That was the power imbalance. Humans could live without devsks, had lived without them for millennia. Devsks couldn’t survive on Earth without humans… yet. That’s what Irakto was meant for. A cleaning agent, a fungus engineered to wipe out the dominant species from the face of their new host world. Irakto was the last weapon. Irakto was the last resort, if peace negotiations failed. Octals of devsk science converged on creating the strongest planet-shaping agent they ever conceived. Until it disappeared, that is. One of the seven Irakto cores disappeared one night during a routine transport operation over the Mediterranean Sea, never to be found again. Accusations of bribery and corruption spread like wildfire. Everyone pointed their finger at everyone else. World leaders asked for explanations, receiving instead heavily redacted dossiers. Humans didn’t know what Irakto was, at least not precisely. For those who had access to the files, Irakto was simply a dangerous devsk bioweapon. They didn’t need to know that it was originally engineered to annihilate all of them. That thought brought Dkrav’lest’s mind back to the scarred hound, that Veckert Rainer that called Andrakta’s office. She didn’t know either. She had no idea of what Irakto was made for. Yet, she called him immediately because that thing was too close to the official description of the lost weapon.

“We didn’t lose Irakto, Lest. It was stolen. One of our numbers… had backroom dealings with the Lightist regime in Italy.”

Andrakta downed the whiskey in one go, felt the alcohol burning through his throat. The real truth. The painful one. The one he didn’t want to accept.

Dkra’lest stopped, just for an instant. Frozen. Just for a moment. Before moving again, as if what Andrakta said was nothing but a useless quip. A little theater to keep things looking normal, to any outside viewer. Inside, though, his blood was boiling, his muscles aching, his nerves flaring up. His voice blared in the chaos that surrounded him.

“Who?”

“Ikata of the Drava brood, with the support of at least four councillors. Or, at least, this is what we think. We have no hard evidence, but he’s the prime suspect. We believe he sold an Irakto core to humans. Those stupid apes wanted to use it as a last resort, if their play pretend regime ever fell. A sort of ‘fuck you’ to the world. I guess the council saw no issue in that, right? If humans ended up ‘stealing’ and using our own bioweapon to wipe themselves out, who could blame us?”

“…that’s… clever in a way.”

“Damn right it is. I can’t even… blame them too much for this plan. Except, well…”

“It couldn’t work, right?”

“Not with that iteration of Irakto, no. She was still too weak. She still is.”

“So, Ikata swindled them and we risked being nuked for his efforts. Kraal fuck me with a shovel.”

“That’s the gist of it, yes.”

They both nodded in silence, sighed too almost at the same time. Irakto was defective. It was an open secret, among the upper devsk echelons. No way she could destroy all humans in her current form. She had some spectacular regenerative and assimilation powers, but her effectiveness was dampened by the chemical composition of Earth’s atmosphere—something devsks bioengineers still had to account for—or would have, if the Irakto project hadn’t been shut down two octals before. What was left of it was mostly an incomplete prototype that was meant to be perfected, one that was never completed. A failure, in a way, but a failure that managed to adapt and thrive for almost four sets of eight Earth years… almost completely unnoticed. Only to be randomly detected in the body of a dead human that used to work as a lapdog for an eccentric Czech millionaire.

Slimy fellow, that Greschnik.

Even among humans, he was a pretty annoying specimen, god complex and all.

Andrakta watched his glass a bit longer, before downing another sip of alcohol.

“I think I’ll need to page Yard about this. About… the whole story.”

“Our role included?”

“Our role included.”

Dkrav’lest didn’t reply to that answer. He just nodded in silence, pouring some whiskey in an empty glass for himself. He brought it to his mouth, sipped a little of it. Horrible as usual, bottom of the barrel stomach swiper for people too drunk to distinguish a cock from a dildo. The usual stuff he served to his customers, raking in profits for cheap mouthwash. Yes, those apes were gullible and too obsessed with sex, of all things, but evicting them from their planet? Dkrav’lest sighed, sat down at the counter.

“Telling her would be best, yes. Tell the bitch and her lion puppy about it. Much as I hate them, it’s better if they have a clear picture. ‘Cause if Irakto’s in the hands of a human—high chance things will sink faster than the Graudan.”

Andrakta couldn’t help but smirk.

“Hopefully, not as deep. Or in so many pieces.”

“Optimistic as usual, huh.”

“That’s what keeps me afloat.”

Dkrav’lest sipped a little bit of that crime against taste that he sold as ‘premium whiskey’. It burned his tongue, his throat, his digestive tube too. Horrifying. Horrible. Comparable with antifreeze methanol, maybe. Still, comforting. Something that didn’t change in all that time on that Kraal-forsaken alien world.

“I see why you’re a better ambassador than me, Rak. I’m sure you’ll weather the storm.”

Andrakta grinned, his fangs shone in the stroboscopic lights.

“How sure?”

“At least six octals over eight.”

“That’s a lot more than I expected.”

Dkrav’lest gulped down a little more of his ‘drink’, if so it could be called. It hurt as much as before, if not more, but that didn’t prevent him from enjoying the moment. He felt as if his tongue rolled on sandpaper, shook his head, jolted for an instant. Then, pushed his glass towards to Andrakta, waiting for him to do the same.

“I trust my little brood brother to do the right thing.”

The two glasses playfully touched each other, the echo reverberated between them.

“And I trust my older brood brother to be by my side, when I do that.”

They drunk down their remaining alcohol in one go, almost in complete sync. Hard times were coming, that couldn’t be prevented.

Yet, that was not going to stop them.

Not if they had a say in it.