T.G. Liles

Venom

“Does anyone want to say a few words?” Half listening, Conrad shifted his weight nervously from one leg to the other. He had been staring at a point halfway between between his two feet during the beginning of the service and if no one knew better it would seem he kept his head bowed out of reverence for the dead. Unfortunately, everyone knew better and Conrad didn't have to look up to know that every set of eyes of those in attendance were fixed on him, expecting those few words. The red stone scraped beneath his boots and at length he looked up at the fresh cairn that he and his colleagues had only moments before finished piling atop the body of Jonas. No one spoke, but Conrad confirmed his suspicions when finally he met the eyes of his friends. Each was staring right at him and on each face a mask of emotion: pity, anger, but above all, sadness. Jonas was well liked and his death was entirely preventable and entirely Conrad's fault. He and Jonas had been paired that morning to continue excavations on the western ridge overlooking the dunes. They were clearing stone, and searching for pre-cataclysm artifacts. Long before, and ancient race had established a city of sorts on this desert world. Orbital surveys had found the ruins of many structures buried in the rock at the edge of the expanse. Terraforming operations were halted, Spacetech called in a team of archeologists, and the first concerted study of extrasolarian civilization had begun. They were all part of a team of scientists pulled from various disciplines. Jonas had been their mineralogist while Conrad specialized in cryptology and linguistics. In total their expedition had twenty members on the ground and another one-hundred stationed on the frigate in high orbit above the desolate planet, they were the support crew. Together they documented, cataloged, and stored any and all findings. For the past several weeks, the ground team had been going out in pairs and taking seismic readings and core samples, trying to determine the age and extent of the ruins. So far their preliminary findings suggested that the city had been abandoned approximately fifteen-thousand years prior and extended nearly a mile underground. Conrad and Jonas had been selected to take more core samples and place small blasting caps to clear some loose stone covering a partially exposed structure. They were paired for no better reason than sitting next to each other at breakfast. Chance had brought them together and now Jonas was dead. Conrad cleared his throat, an activity that produced more sound than he had intended, and stared at the cairn. “I'm sorry Jonas. We hadn- I mean, we weren't...” he stopped. He couldn't think of what to say. At that instant, the most pressing thought going through his mind was the incredible heat and how he hadn't touched his canteen in over an hour. The moments seemed to stretch on for years and still not a word from anyone, when at last Jefferson, their project leader, spoke, “Jonas was a good team member and worked tirelessly on this project from day one. But he of course knew the risks, as do we all. He and his expertise will be sorely missed.” With that he turned and headed back to the dunes and their mobile habitat. The rest of the team followed, leaving Conrad alone with the cairn. He stood motionless for a time. Conrad wanted desperately this death to mean something more than inherent risk on an alien world but couldn't bring himself to see it any other way. It would be a lonely grave on a world far from home. He grasped his canteen and drained its contents. It tasted brackish and was not nearly as refreshing as he would have liked. He returned it to his satchel and saw Jonas' gloves there at the bottom of his bag. He pulled them out and stared at the red dust staining the carbon weave fabric. Before he realized it, tears were streaming down his face. “I'm so sorry, Jonas. I never meant for this to have happened...” He placed the pair of gloves on the top of the stone pile and followed his colleagues footprints back towards the dunes, his tears drying on his face in the desert air.

He stood alone in a dark corridor, his eyes unable to adjust to the Stygian black. With no clear idea how he had come to this place, or for what reason, his hand went instinctively to his belt and his communications unit. But when his fingers failed to grasp but air he began to worry. Without belt, torch, or pack, Conrad began an unsteady march forward, his hands thrust out in front, occasionally brushing the slick walls to guide his way. On and on he walked, confused and uneasy, until at last a light began to illuminate his surroundings. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, almost as a fog inflamed. The change was gradual but realization came swiftly. The walls began to slither and wreathe, a chamber of worms, dark as obsidian. Conrad opened his mouth to cry out but was paralyzed with fear and managed only a quick exhalation of breath. In this moment the corridor began to narrow, the walls close in on him, and suddenly he knew his doom approached. Panicked, he pushed his hands against that mass of tangled veins but quickly was trapped and could not pull himself free. He fought and and kicked and pushed but succeeded only in driving himself deeper into that nest of worms. As the far wall began pressing against his back he could feel the slick bodies of the creatures grow coarse and tighten around his limbs, ripping skin and hair, and breaking bones. When at last he could stand no more torment, the earth opened beneath him suddenly and he was falling at terrible velocity, as if through a cloud. Looking down, he saw from whence the fog had come. It was steaming out of the eyes and nose of a viper of gargantuan size, a true leviathan. Though still far below, the serpent uncoiled and lifted its head to intercept Conrad on his plunge. With the beast just below, its mouth opened to reveal a forest of daggers and at its center a pit of boiling flame. At the last moment Conrad covered his eyes and screamed.

The air was cool and the familiar hum of the environment pumps was more calming than anything else could have been. His sheets saturated with sweat, Conrad sat up in his bunk and looked about his meager cabin. For the moment it was dim and cramped but not altogether uncomfortable. His satchel, boots, and survey jacket lay in a heap next to his spartan washbasin. He ran his hands through his dusty hair and a violent shiver shook his body, the nightmare all too fresh in his mind. “Command: light.” The half-dome lamp set into the bulkhead bloomed into an orb of bronze light. Conrad took the few steps to his faucet and washed his face, then checked the time. It was just after two in the morning. Sunrise wouldn't commence for another five hours and for that Conrad was grateful. In the quiet dark, life seemed small and easy to comprehend. Soon enough however, the merciless star would rise above the far horizon and things would once again take their usual form, clear and visible, casting dark shadows. The small speaker box set above his corner table chimed and broke Conrad's trance, “You have an elevated heart rate, Dr. Blackwell. Would you like a sedative?” Conrad, startled at first, dried his face with a small towel and then tossed it into the sink. “No, thank you, Mira.” “Very good, Dr. Blackwell. Breakfast will not be served for another three hours and fifty-four minutes, but if you are hungry I can warm a ration for you.” “Maybe later.” Conrad reflected for a moment. “Tell me, is all the crew still asleep?” “All members, save two, are asleep in their cabins, you and Dr. Crowe, who is currently on deck.” “Thank you, Mira. That will be all.” The speaker chimed off and Conrad was alone, as alone as he could be with a computer overseer monitoring his every function on board. He closed his eyes and visions of that corridor of worms flooded his mind once more. He reached for his boots and pulled on his jacket then headed for the top deck.

Conrad was met with a gentle breeze as he opened the top hatch. The air was warm and arid despite the blackness of night. He got to his feet, closed the hatch, and made his way across the deck towards a dark figure stooped in a chair. But before he made it halfway he was stopped dead in his tracks. A sudden, agonizing cry went up from the direction of the ridge. It was shrill and full of terror. Conrad knew it could never have come from any human throat, but something about it was hauntingly familiar and hearing it shook him to his bones. A gruff voice, as if in answer to Conrad's unasked question, then spoke, “One of those critters, getting bitten by that serpent of yours.” Conrad was stunned. There was no way anyone else could have known about his dream. It was a long moment before he realized what Dr. Crowe had meant. Henry Crowe was the teams naturalist and had busied himself with studying the local ecology ever since they made landfall, taking little part in the cartography and seismic surveys. In this area, the rocks near the dunes, Henry had cataloged two predominant animal species. The first was a small pig-like creature with tusks, about the size of a football. They were burrowers and lived in colonies in an among the many caves found in the ridge of crimson stone. They contended themselves to burrow, sleep in the shade, and feast on the thick roots of the scrub grass that grew wherever the earth was soft and not too sandy. The other was a snake-like beast, nearly two meters in length. Its body was segmented, much like a millipede, and covered with flat, armored plates, jet black and gleaming like a beetle's carapace. It was slow in comparison with true snakes but very aggressive and could deliver a deadly venom from a long retractable tooth. It would hide on the edge of a crevasse or cave opening and wait for its prey to stumble into range, then strike. Conrad reached Henry's side and saw that he was sketching the alien sky by the pale light of the planet's single, ringed moon. Henry never stopped penciling and didn't look up to meet Conrad's gaze. “Can't sleep either, huh?” Henry began on a particularly bright constellation, his hand dancing over the paper with more dexterity than Conrad would have given him credit for. “No, I... No.” Conrad was unable to put to words what exactly had driven him up here, seeking solitude yet finding the company of another. “After what happened today, can't say I blame you. Don't feel too bad though. It wasn't your fault, not really.” “I should have said something, earlier I mean.” Conrad remembered his friends faces and was saddened by what they must think of him. “At the service? You were alright, for what's it worth. I know they expected something from you, but if they really knew what it does to you... dying like that I mean. What could you say?” Conrad could only nod. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the ridge, its silhouette stood over them like a looming giant threatening to crush the mobile habitat. Henry put down his pad and pencil and reached into his front pocket for a cigarette and lighter, reclining a bit in his chair. The flame cast dark shadows across Henry's face as he lit it and Henry couldn't help but think of his dream again, falling into that barbed, living inferno. “It's an incredibly sophisticated toxin actually. I've never seen anything quite like it before.” “So you've seen those pigs get bitten?” Conrad asked. “Mmhmm.” Henry exhaled a cloud of blue smoke. “In essence it triggers an extreme panic respond which will cause the victim to flee. So in the case of those critters it means running back into the den. But that's just the beginning. The victim will then begin to sweat profusely, which of course would contribute to dehydration-” “I thought it was just the heat. When I saw Jonas...” Henry shook his head, taking another drag. “I ran a series of behavioral experiments in the lab yesterday with captured specimens and it'll happen every time. In the end the venom will cause cardiac arrest, but the victims perspiration contains a derivative of the toxin which causes a paralysis, so anyone that comes into contact with the victim is seriously at risk.” “Total paralysis? They suffocate or something?” Conrad wasn't enjoying this conversation but his curiously drove his questions, trying to make sense of Jonas' death. Henry waved his hand, “No, not total. It's temporary, wears off eventually. But once the victim runs home and touches all of his den mates the serpent just goes in after him and takes his time eating them all, one after the other.” “Eaten alive you mean?” Conrad grimaced. “Yes.” A moment passed and neither of them said anything. Conrad had seen many of those pigs hopping from rock to rock, totally fearless of he and his team members. They were a nuisance in some ways just by the sheer number of them getting in the way. He had seen, more than a few times, them getting caught in the blast radius of a blasting cap or falling into the holes left behind from the core samples. Stupid as they may be, Conrad found himself sympathizing with the little pigs. Nothing deserved to be eaten alive. “Why haven't they been wiped out then?” asked Conrad. “If this venom is so effective you'd think there would be less of them around.” “Two reasons, as far as I am able to judge. Firstly, they've got a very high birthrate with short pregnancies, like rabbits. Secondly, those serpents don't eat all that often. They'll clear a den then just sit there in a dark for a couple of weeks.” Conrad thought on this for a moment. He remembered Jefferson being very clear recently on how everyone needed to wear their gloves at all times while in the field and keep no skin exposed near the ground. No one, excepting Henry, was allowed to interfere with the local fauna either so when a pig decided to nap on a blasting cap you couldn't chase him off, much less touch him. “That's why Jeff didn't want us going out without gloves.” said Conrad. “I told him about the toxins in their sweat as a precaution. Though, I doubt, given our size, it would be nearly as dangerous for us. You've really only got to worry about a direct bite.” Henry finished his cigarette and began fishing for another. “Any chance on finding an anti-venom?” Conrad tried to sound casual but his emotion betrayed him. Since Jonas had died he had to know if such a death could be prevented in the future. “Unfortunately not. I'm not well equipped for synthesizing anti-venoms and toxicology isn't my specialty besides.” Henry was about to light his second cigarette when he stopped and turned to look at Conrad for the first time since he had come on deck. “What is it?” “Conrad, the other day I ran an autopsy on one of our captured serpents. I had fed it one of the lab rats the day before you see and when I removed the poison gland I noticed a small reservoir of blood held in a sort of solution. I did some tests and found it was rat blood and further that the serpent's gland was reacting to the rat DNA. The glands were producing a new form of the venom designed, it would seem, to be most fatal to the rat. It was tailoring its venom to match its prey on a genetic level. I wasn't sure what to make of it until just now.” “I'm not sure I follow you, Henry.” “If I could get my hands on the serpent that bit Jonas, I might be able to work up an antidote.” Conrad realized suddenly that if ever Jonas' death were to mean something more, this was it. Chances were good that excavations would be going on for years to come and that meant many more researchers and potentially more deaths. “But how could we tell one from the others? Those serpents, they all look alike.” Henry lit his cigarette and paused, thinking. “Well, they're very territorial. If you remember where Jonas was bitten it stands to reason that the serpent is still near that area.” “I could definitely take you up there in the morning but I doub-” “No, you don't understand,” interrupted Henry. “If we wait it could find some pig in the mean time, take over the den, and we wouldn’t see it for weeks. I need it now while its glands are still processing Jonas' blood. We'll lose our best chance if we wait too long. Hell, it could be too late already.” Conrad crossed his arms. “Henry, I'm all for doing this but Mira wont like us leaving in the middle of the night. She'll wake Jefferson the moment we open the surface hatch.” Henry closed his eyes, taking a long drag off his thin cigarette. “She only keeps track of us on board, if we leave from up here, say with the climbing gear...” “She'd still think we were up here.” Conrad was heading for the hatch, he knew then what had to be done. Henry reached for his notebook, stubbing out his cigarette. He followed Conrad down the ladder. “I never really liked snakes anyway.”

Conrad and Henry reached the desert floor, after having retrieved their equipment, in just under fifteen minutes. They had fixed a rope to the top railing of the habitat and slowly descended the two-hundred feet to the dry surface without alerting either the team or Mira. Once there, they walked in silence across the dunes toward the base of the ridge. Then they would take the meandering path that would lead them past Jonas' grave and ultimately to the site of his death. Each man halted at the base of the outcropping and gazed back towards the mobile habitat. Inside, the rest of the expedition slept, unaware of the drama being enacted just outside. Conrad shouldered his pack and set his foot on a stone, only to have it shift immediately under his weight and send him sprawling to the sand. “Here,” said Henry, helping him to his feet. “I brought something that will help. Jeff had these prepped for exploring that structure you and Jonas were clearing yesterday. They were supposed to be used underground but considering the dark, they should work just as well at night.” He reached into his bag and retrieved two infrared visors, handing one to Conrad. “Thanks.” Conrad slid the device over his eyes and tuned the contrast. The almost pitch black desert-scape was transformed into a ghostly world of gray. “I've walked this path over a dozen times but I never had counted on negotiating it at night.” On they walked, easily finding their way among the loose stone, and soon enough they stood far above the sand, next to Jonas' grave. The gloves Conrad had set atop it were still there, a lonely human artifact on an otherwise formidably alien world. Conrad felt tears well in his eyes but now was not the time to mourn and so he led Henry past the fresh grave without a second glance. The crested the ridge and below them lay the valley where many of the ruinous structures were situated. Most had been buried in rock thousands of years before and those which had avoided that particular fate were barely recognizable; only their foundations remained, squat, knee-high walls sandblasted smooth. Conrad pointed across the valley floor, towards the opposite ridge. “We were planting caps near that far structure and we had everything in place when it happened. If you're right, the serpent should be just over there.” They descended and made the march through that dead city. It was the same site Conrad had been working at for weeks, but with the infrared visor and stillness of the night the usually familiar landmarks took on a mysterious, nearly threatening quality. He had confidently traversed this valley one hundred times or more but now he was struggling to keep one foot in front of the other. Returning to the site of his friends tragic end was almost too much to bear, and so soon after the fact. Yet they continued, a quiet urgency drove them onward. Their footfalls kicked up small clouds of dust with each step. They knew that if this reckless venture were to yield any fruit they would need to act swiftly. Conrad only prayed it wasn't too late. Conrad at last halted at the base of a seemingly intact building, buried up to the roof, its top just visible above the pile of stone. “He had climbed up there,” Conrad pointed to the summit “to place one last cap while I was clearing some stone down here. It was difficult work because I had forgot my gloves. I told him I was going back but instead he tossed me his and not a moment after I had pulled them on I heard him scream.” “Don't forget to wear them this time.” Henry sat down his satchel and trap kit along with two injectors. He handed one to Conrad. “These are to counteract the damage to the heart, should keep you calm in case you get bitten. They should prevent cardiac arrest but no real guarantee on whether they'll keep you alive. Most venom has redundant methods of killing. But if it comes to that, because you'll only have moments before the paranoia sets in, act fast.” Conrad gripped the injector, hoping it wouldn't come to that and wanted to change the subject. “So how do we trap it?” “We'll split up and look in the cracks between the stones. Hopefully it's out in the open, they like to move around at night but they're actually quite slow. Easiest way is to come up behind it and grab it just below the last segment behind the head.” “Alright. And then to transport it?” Henry pulled out a fine net from his trap kit and smiled. “Sometimes the simplest methods are best.”

They began to climb, each taking a side, slowly making sure each handhold was solid and wasn't the lip of some cave or crevasse. Conrad couldn't make out any cracks large enough to hide the beast on his side so continued upwards. At length, he reached the point where he had last seen Jonas and stood, one hand holding the top edge of the stone roof. He looked down the way he had come and saw Henry, about half way down, shining a small lamp into the cracks between boulders. From where Conrad stood, he could see the valley stretching out far below him, surrounded on all sides by treacherous rock walls. He wondered how many serpents were traversing the valley at that very moment and, if they indeed managed to capture one, how likely it would be to find the same that bit Jonas. Undaunted, he kept looking. But from where he stood he could see no obvious gaps in the stone. He then gripped the injector in his teeth, put both hands on the roof and hoisted himself up. He had one knee under him before he saw it, not more than a few feet distant. It lay coiled among loose stone and was so still Conrad didn't immediately recognize it but upon further inspection it was unmistakeable. It seemed to be asleep so, not wanting to wake it, Conrad made his way closer without calling to Henry. He reached out a gloved hand to capture it. Conrad could feel his heart pounding, hear his blood rushing in his ear. It was so loud he was sure it would wake the beast and in a instant it would lash out at him. But yet it lay still, as lifeless as the stone surrounding it; without his visor, Conrad would well have assumed it actually was a stone. He took another step, the creature lay directly below him now. It was easily within reach. Conrad inhaled slowly, the injector still clutched in his teeth, bent down, and deliberately grasped the last segment of the inner coil. For a moment nothing happened. He let out a long breath and turned to call for Henry but no sooner did he feel a quiver beneath his hand and see movement from the edge of his vision. Turning instinctively towards the source he realized immediately the gravity of his situation. The opposite end of that armored coil began to rise and then with incredible velocity struck towards Conrad's face. He felt a sting of pain just below his chin and at once the world seemed to drop below his feet. He heard a scream from what seemed very far away and yet he knew it came from within himself. His hands shot upwards and he hurled the serpent from him, knocking his visor off in the process. His vision blurred, he felt his knees strike stone, and he reached for the injection, suddenly remembering Henry's instructions. But there was nothing and his gloved hands remained empty. Thinking he might still reach Henry in time, he turned back towards the ledge searching with his hands outstretched when his mind was at once seized. Above him, the ocean of stars screamed a chorus of rainbow light and color in hues never before seen or imagined. They shimmered and danced and at the heart of each point Conrad could hear their nuclear crucibles fabricate the universe. A immense white skull entwined with vaporous leeches smiled down upon him. It seemed to speak in a tongue born from the pit, it was beckoning him to come closer. Below him lay a an infinite black space, as void of stimulation as the sky was full, which swallowed all things perceived. The two realities grappled with one another for full recognition of Conrad's senses. His feeble mind buckled under the torrent of sensational paradox and he wretched on the dry stone. He opened his mouth and gulped air, trying to breath, but the very atmosphere was a miasma of thorns which ripped and choked his lungs. He stood, his muscles shaking violently beneath him and his veins pumping acid. Sweat began pouring from his face and stinging his eyes. It was all he could do to remain standing. The cacophony above filled him with such torment and blind fear as could not be described and as could not be understood. Below him lay the abyss which in comparison was a welcoming place. His only thought became escape into that place of stillness, where reality had neither color nor form. He lanced from that precipice into empty space and fell towards what he knew was his only salvation. The wind rushed past his ears, sweat and tears flying from his face. He heard someone call is name, thought of Jonas, and knew he would not be alone.