Segmentum Solar, Andrews System, Bridge of the Cass.
Captain Brian's body was covered in spore-like organisms. A chunk of his neck was missing, flesh and blood gouged out, leaving a deep, bloody hole where visible bone was now covered in spores.
No one on the bridge found this unusual. They, too, were covered in spores.
So was the entire ship.
The Ak'Haireth had infected them, giving them a new kind of life.
Brian's throat, driven by the parasites, vibrated, not from the movement of bones, but from the trembling of countless spores.
"Starport, this is the Cass, on approach. Requesting docking clearance." His voice was a wispy, airy sound, strained by the spores in his throat.
"Brian, you old dog, what were you up to last night?"
A teasing voice came over the vox. Brian's body jerked, his boneless form flopping against the console like a large fish.
A thud echoed through the channel.
"Brian, what the hell are you doing? Wake up..." The starport controller's voice was irritated.
A few seconds later, Brian's throat vibrated again.
"Cough... I've got a cold..."
His chest, sliding free from his body, revealed a ribcage thick with spores.
"Fine, you're clear." The starport controller, not wanting to know more, cut the link.
Four hours later, guide lights illuminated the landing zone at Andrews Prime's starport.
The Cass descended slowly. As the ramp lowered, cold mist billowed, and a procession of shambling figures staggered down.
They swayed, approaching the working dockworkers, and embraced them.
The dockworkers pushed them away with annoyance, cursing.
"Damn it, I'm not a whore from the red-light district."
"Get off! I'm not into men!"
"Pah! What the hell is this!"
...
As they shoved, fluff clung to the workers' clothing.
They stopped their work, slapping and cursing.
Puffs of spores scattered, covering their goggles, seeping into their respirators.
As they brushed at their clothes, the fallen, boneless figures rose and shuffled towards them, clinging to them.
One infected crew member opened his spore-filled mouth and bit a stevedore.
"Are you crazy!"
The stevedore roared in fury, kicking the crew member.
Bang!
The crew member crashed to the ground. His clothing, now disheveled, exposed his chest.
The stevedore's eyes widened at the pulpy flesh, stuffed with downy fluff.
"Ah..."
He screamed in terror and ran.
A wisp of fluff settled on the stevedore's goggles, clinging to the corner of his eye.
Then, near his nasal bridge, his skin began to writhe, as if insects were crawling beneath.
A terrifying image flashed through his mind. He raised his hands frantically, forgetting even to remove his gloves.
Bang!
He crashed into a forklift, stumbling.
"Damn it..."
He cursed, trying to get up. Pain lanced through his nose and eye socket, as if thousands of maggots were gnawing.
"Ah..."
The stevedore's eye was a bloody ruin. The Bone Drinkers had consumed half his face.
He clawed at it frantically. The Ak'Haireth wrapped around his glove.
Spores drifted through the fabric, latching onto his skin.
Thump!
Hundreds of Ak'Haireth swarmed over his thick fingers.
"Ah..."
The needle-like pain made him scream. Several downy filaments slipped into his mouth.
The Bone Drinkers slid down his throat, towards his windpipe.
The stevedore collapsed, his body covered in a layer of spores.
The dockworkers kept pushing the infected crew members away. But whenever they touched them, they felt a maddening, incessant scratching beneath their clothes.
They slapped and swatted in disgust and terror. But tens of thousands of Ak'Haireth always found a gap.
Tufts of fluff drifted. The sound of tearing fabric echoed. The dockworkers' uniforms, less than three months old, split open.
The fluff surged into the tears like starving serpents.
Their coveralls bulged, stuffed with downy fluff, like puffy winter coats.
"Ah..."
The stevedore screamed again, his body shuddering.
The Ak'Haireth burrowed, their heads like drills.
They tore through his skin, scooped out his flesh, and spat it out.
The stevedore clawed weakly, his hands coming away slick with his own flesh.
More unsated Bone Drinkers flooded into his body, driven by their insatiable hunger.
In seconds, the robust stevedore was hollowed out. His two hundred and six bones had been devoured.
He staggered back to his feet, his body draped in bloodied spores.
Around him, one by one, the others rose. Their empty eye sockets were filled with fluff, facing the control tower and the gleaming city.
Whoosh!
A tide of spores rolled forward.
The next day, a black, bird-like craft descended slowly, landing at the starport.
Over a hundred infected dockworkers, controlled by the Ak'Haireth, shambled from all directions.
Fluff drifted, ready to feast.
The landing gear deployed. The ramp lowered.
But no one stepped out.
The cockpit lights went dark. Empty.
Whoosh!
Spores drifted over the dockworkers' heads. Confusion rippled among the Ak'Haireth.
Shadows cast by the lights suddenly rose, enveloping one infected host.
The shadow, carrying thousands of Ak'Haireth and their host, sank into the thick darkness.
Whoosh!
The Ak'Haireth shivered in unison. They sensed, within the shadow, a terrible maw devouring their kin.
Dozens of boneless forms writhed and shambled away, fleeing.
A dark figure "grew" from the shadow. Ramsey of the Tenth Chapter, clad in new armor, a Cataphractii-pattern base, integrated with the Yeld-pattern's adaptive systems.
His old armor had been granted to a "Rose Bishop" of his Chapter. Through that gift, the recipient had gained power and experience, becoming the second in the Chapter who could, like Ramsey, encase his armor in flesh and burrow into a living creature.
The "Shepherd" extended his jade-like right hand. A thick shadow, not belonging to the living, rose from the ground.
The shadow was no illusion. It was an impenetrable net, binding the spore-covered bodies, crushing and compressing them.
The Ak'Haireth scattered in panic. The tufts of fluff dissolved into individual spores, drifting on the wind.
The biomancer raised his left arm. A fine mesh of bio-electricity arced upward.
Whoosh!
The Ak'Haireth were struck down, merging into the sea of spores.
The shadow hammered and beat, compressing the spores, pressing them into the bodies.
Ramsey beckoned with his right hand. The thick shadow rose from the ground, drawing the dense sea of spores towards the "Shepherd."
The Bone Drinkers writhed in unease. They felt themselves being shoved into the body of some monstrous thing.
Ramsey stuffed the infected hosts into his own body. He looked around at the others, stumbling away, their spore-clouds scattering like pulled ribbons, then coiling back around their bodies.
He watched the fleeing xenos.
"Bone Drinkers," he mused, a smile on his face, a perfect mirror of Nareth's, "aren't my bones delicious?"
He shrugged, and strode towards the Shadow-pattern Stormbird.
Inside the cabin, there was not a single spore.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu