Claws within the Black

by WhispersandAshes

The Fall

I exist in a state of perpetual darkness. A shroud of inky black that permeates ones thoughts and being. I have slept for so long in the confines of a shattered ship, surrounded by frayed wires, torn metal and the fleshy silicon walls my family wove over the stamped surfaces of this place. I have no name. My kind has no need for such artificial and pointless titles. My consciousness swims to the surface and takes hold, shaking away the dead sleep. I unfurl from my sticky web bedding and drop several feet, clawed toes embedding themselves into metal with a harsh grinding squeal. I hiss, mouth within mouth dry and sore from years of confinement. Bladed tail hums through the air, joints crackle and pop and I assert myself on two feet and make my way through the twisted remains of the ship. I am weak, terribly weak. I am in need of nourishment. Tasting the air I pace through corridors and fleshy out croppings, skidding down ramps and over obstacles as I hunt for the remains of a host.

There.

Suspended by a shredded EVA suit, remains twisted and cracked is a body. I pluck it form its harness and tear into its form. Dry, brittle flesh is consumed and I feel life return to my body. With life comes pain. Organs shut down but preserved begin their tasks once more and I screech in pain as my form begins to grow back to my full size. I continue to shred and tear into the corpse as the pain subsides. Tossing it away and listening to the withered thump it makes as it collides with another, I raise my head and examine my surroundings.

Bodies lie throughout the ship, both my kind and theirs, in various states of decay and dismemberment. Some bear the marks of the seeders. Pained, grimacing faces, ruptured chests, hands whose digits writhed in paroxysms of agony as new life tore its way to the surface, and out of their beings.

Some who posed too great a threat to be subdued were ended by warriors who eventually overwhelmed them. Skulls popped by our gnashing jaws, bodies tore apart. Some consumed by the very fires they flung at us in an effort to keep us away. Others succumbed to their wounds before we could reach them and offer them the life giving seed of the Mother. Such a shame. Good hosts, strong hosts, quick and smart hosts died rather than be claimed by the hive. It saddens me that they will never know the Mothers love.
We by no means escaped the carnage either. The hosts we wanted, the strong ones always fought back. That spirit is after all, what made them so desirable.

Drones and warriors, limbs blown apart and exoskeletons shattered and charred by fire and lead, lie in pools of corrosion and gore, their life blood spattered as they attempted to incapacitate and retrieve the hosts who had the gall to oppose us.
Such strange things those hosts. Bound by community, yet individual and selfish in their own desires. When we drew near, the panic that had united them would over whelm their small, primitive minds and tear apart whatever semblance of community they'd manage to assemble.

Soft, pale faces were gripped in strong hands and wrenched from their suits, before being dragged, kicking and screaming towards the central hive. Sometimes it was necessary to bear teeth in warning, but the hosts struggled and screamed even harder. Thrashing against their confines, the seeders could not move to them and offer them the gift of the Mother. They were broken then. Limbs pulled and popped out of joint, perhaps torn or broken all together. Jaws were ripped open, eyes slashed or gouged, spines snapped or dented. The hosts would suffer yes, but they would not die. It takes life to make life after all. Seeds will not flourish on barren ground. The ground must be fertilized, cultivated and soaked with the blood of the weak for the hive to flourish. For the mother to grow strong and her influence to spread far. Their cries reached new heights, wailing cacophonies as the young ones emerged and they were reborn into the hive.

The hosts though refused to submit however. Refused to be taken and subjugated. In their selfishness they sought to destroy the hive. A number of them fought through our hive and sought to kill Mother! The rage that drove us, boiling through the corridors of the ship to her side would prove to be our demise. Such was our devotion that we let the hosts escape. They fled, pursued by a writhing multitude of my self and my family to the bridge. Whilst we tore into these creatures who would dare strike at our Queen, the others set the ship on a crash course to a random co-ordinates. Even as we killed and took the last of them, our fate was sealed.

Plunging the ship downwards into the atmospheric storms of a dead world, they burned all that we had created. As the great vessel of blood and steel crashed and burned, all were incinerated. Hosts, new borns, drones, warriors, Praetorians, the Queen herself perished with a scream in the flames!
My connection to the hive-mind was burnt with my brothers, and I scream even now into the void of silence that is this place. Gone is the chattering of orders and locations, the community, the love we shared for the hosts and our Queen.

I do not know how I survived. Only that I have slept for a long time

Clutched in my fingers is a single egg. Ruby red and pulsating with life. With potential.

A new Queen shall rise from the ashes of this hive. A glorious, black retribution of flesh and screams that shall tear upwards and outwards through the flesh of this world and remake it in the glorious image of the Hive-Mother.
For my awakening now is no mere coincidence. The atmospheric storms have subsided.

Through the long silicon streams and pipes that bring fresh air down into this stale place I smell life.
Blood. Blood is what awoke me. The taste of potential. Of Life. Of prey. Of hosts for my new Queen.
I shall journey out into this world. I shall serve my Queen. I shall bring back hosts for the glory of the hive.
Life prevails.

Author's Note:

Well this is my first ever fic and you have my deepest thanks for reading it. By all means leave a rating and a comment, no matter what it is. I am open to all suggestions and criticism, because without either I shall never improve.
So if you want me to keep writing or throw myself into a gasoline fire filled with angry angry bleach covered fire ants: Tell me.
Thanks for reading guys and I guess I'll see you later.

Comments

[Jack-Pony]

This is a solid prologue here, very nice imagery and explanation of your protagonist's motivations, also quite readable. You appear to have a very good understanding of the source material and convey that very well, the psychology of the alien is very intriguing. I'd say that you give away enough here to hook a reader to come back for more answers, which is the entire premise of a good prologue.

The changeling tags very much interest me, are these aliens the predecessors of the changelings? Are they going to be rivals? Or are they something more to one another...?