“My love, what has rendered you thoughtless? I crossed the sea. I banished the devil incarnate. I lost brothers, sisters, and friends. I killed some creatures undeserving of death, I spared others underserving of mercy. A miracle surrendered its life to gift me the chance to reach you, Dirofil, so why have you handed yourself to oblivion?”
—Shadiran, holding the thoughtless body of her lover in her arms.
The Legstereers sat on a long steel-like bench, their heads limp dropping to the side, the front or the back. A composite, knuckled hulk made of the same alloy intruded their bodies by the front, surrounded their cores with an internally-polished case full of tiny holes. Snake Jaws, the legsteerers often called them, because they engulfed their consciousness and propelled it out the walls these structures extended from.
Dirofil had been informed of how it worked. The legs, like the A.C.C.U, were constructs made to resemble a body. The Corship had been built in a haste, and with the limited resources at hand. Its systems could only be refined so long as said refinement didn’t render them inactive. In this sense, it wasn’t unlike living beings, with the archaic limiting the modern, the recurrent laryngeal nerve of a giraffe.
A puggum engine had been added for emergencies, but it was thought-energy intensive, considering the price of refinement of the fuel and the need to still have at least one leegsteerer on each side, plugged onto the hind legs and using the single eyes —modeled after Babesi’s, for she enjoyed the best eyesight out of the six Originals of the Core— at the end of them to coordinate the others.
The ship wouldn’t ever walk without some Thinkers incarnating its appendages. And while the few Splinters of Leptos on board seemed to find a measure of calm and freedom in Legsteering duty, Dirofil rued the idea. It was his body he’d be forfeiting, even if for only some hours. He had recovered his eye, that felt at home, and like home, in his slimy head. Leptos´ arm served him well, more so when intermingled with his own, but it wasn’t still the quiridium he had first stirred to life with. Leptos’ tail had indubitably saved his life, and therefore any negative feelings towards it were to be disregarded as mere caprices. He would replace it soon, for the autotomy had cut it in half and he didn’t know how to regrow the missing segment. After all, knowledge about regeneration was The First Pictured’s prerogative.
Speaking of the devil, the Splinter sitting next to the spot reserved for him was one of Leptos. His six arms dangled backwards, such that if one shook the unconscious Thinker they would clatter like wind chimes caught in a storm. His back was bent in the shape of a C, such that, had the Snake Jaws not been there to hold his core, he would have fallen backwards. His eyes wide open, iridescent pearls focusing nowhere.
Dirofil imitated the sound of a clicking tongue. No. He wouldn’t take hold of a leg. He wouldn’t give up control of his body, even if temporarily, to perform a task someone else could do.
The head of the Legsteerers, a position being unusually filled by a Splinter of Babesi for the tide, glared at him from across the room. “Edala, correct?”
“That is, indeed, my name.” She said, wielding a haughty tone unbecoming of someone resembling The Sixth Conceptualized. “Hard work is expected of you, Original.”
“Elsewhere. Not here. As soon as Parvov comes, I am informing him of my refusal to undertake this task and leaving.” Dirofil poked Leptos’ Splinter just to check if that would incite some reaction. And it didn’t.
“Don’t disturb the Steerers. The ship may trip!” Her purple skeleton glinted under the retriever-based lights as she slithered hurriedly towards Dirofil, ready to slap his hand off the Legsteerer.
“Don’t force me to be a Steerer. My energy would be better spent elsewhere. Psycholocation. Refinement. Mining. Even powering the lights.”
“You were not supposed to be this difficult,” she blurted out. “We were warned that the tide when Lyssav comes some of us may die if we offend her. But you? We were told you are kind. And all I see is an asshole on a power trip because he’s an Original who got a special eye.”
Dirofil blinked twice. “Do you expect me to tell you that you are wrong, Edala? I am aware of the wrongs I am inflicting upon the crew and my very own brother for the sake of my own strength and goals. I am deeply sorry about them.” Dirofil rubbed his left wrist and lowered his gaze. “And, well, that this refusal has nothing to do with that. I simply despise the idea of ending up like them while I steer the leg.”
Stolen story; please report.
The Splinter tilted her head and averted her one eye. “The Captain says that you should attune to the Legsteerer channel.”
“Alright.”
Dirofil relaxed and focused on the waves of mental energy coursing around his core. Recognizing the waves of Psycholocation was simple enough, so excluding their frequency from his mental search presented no problem. Which didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t annoyed by their constant presence. Wave after wave after wave after wave clashing all over his form, bouncing back when striking both his body and his soul. And yet there were other signals. Subtler, gentler. He felt through them at random until he found the one where Parvov was unleashing a rainbow of terms.
…you immature, cowardly, bullcored, Chihuahua-scented, heap of Dachshund droppings, you will learn to steer the accursed legs or…
He tuned off and stretched a bit before casually striding out the Legsteerers area. He didn’t need to turn to know Edala was shaking her head in disapproval. He didn’t need to tune into the Legsteerer’s mind-link to know Parvov would come stomping to admonish him. He just wondered: was it truly him acting like this, or was it some vile influence from the parts he had assimilated?
----------------------------------------
Nobody stopped him as he entered cargo bay where the miners often gathered, waiting for the ship to arrive near the deposits to get out and bring the dogs in. There were seats for the Splinters of Morbilliv, cages whose structure meshed into the orange corgite walls, carts and the rails they needed, and little more. The titanic exit door that would slide down to connect ship and sea completed the room, acting as a wall on its own right.
Tuldrum and Dalvari chatted next to one of the empty cages. Their words were drenched in hopelessness as they dropped out their voiceboxes. Dirofil avoided drawing closer and stood at the entrance of the bay, covered in his cape, jealously keeping the regal air an Original should carry about themselves.
“Who follows, Dilvari? We are the ones that go out. We are the ones that face beasts tide in and tide out. Who follows? Hark, we are just awaiting thoughtlessness to come and take us. Come it stalking as a Murkhound, charging as a Pugilist, or howling as a Yodeler, we will be the ones to be reached first. Not the Parvovs enjoying the fruits of nepotism, not the Dirofils skulking on all five or lounging in the laboratory. Not the Babesis causing mischief nor the Lyssavs that drag themselves about with their… victim complexes. Not the Leptoses pedaling this doomed bicycle forwards. Us, Morbillivs, we are the ones marked to die!” Tuldrum discoursed, rapping his short and dull claws against the armor plates of his chest.
“The Captain sees his dead brother in us. Of course we are sent to die. We look strong and bulky, perfect for carrying heavy loads. That’s the excuse. It’s the shape we were born from that must die. Die, like Morbilliv did, so Parvov can move on from his neverending grief,” replied Dalvari, whose gestures evidenced similar levels of frustration. The he did a double take at the figure behind his friend. “Ah, The Dirofil is here.”
“Morbilliv was my brother too, you know. And so is Parvov. Who lacks a Legsteerer as I ducked out to avoid the task. I’ll take the place of one of you as a miner for as long as you take on leg-steering duty for me.”
Tuldrum stepped in front of his comrade. “For whom of us is the offer? Know that Parvov wouldn’t let either of us accept it anyway. Your insubordination may cost us dearly.”
“I can force my brother’s hand. He would get bored if I didn’t.”
This time it was Dalvari that eclipsed his peer. “You are not being the most stellar of guests. We are trying to survive long term in here, and you are behaving like an immature brat at best, and a parasite at worst.”
“Dirofilaria immitis. Commonly known as the dog heartworm,” Dirofil said, matter-of-factly. “Leptospira, bacteria responsible for leptospirosis. Lyssavirus, genus of the virus of rabies. Parvovirus, genus of the virus responsible for parvovirosis. Dirofilaria. Morbillivirus, one of which causes canine distemper. Babesia, protozoans that cause piroplasmosis or babesiosis. We were all named after parasitic beings that existed in the world of the creators. Parasites that affected dogs.”
“Make certain you don’t become the pathogen that kills the Corship then. We are not defying Parvov, Fourth Imagined. Being found by the corship saved our lives as much as it saved yours. We owe Parvov and the crew a debt of gratitude.” Tuldrum said, his bulking arms crossed.
“Do you fear the Spider of Shame more than the sea of dogs?”
Stares were exchanged between the Splinters of Morbilliv. Shoulders were rolled in unease. Heads shook in unison.
“Great, you can settle it between you as you may please. I propose you use a rotating schedule. Some tides one goes out, some tides the other…”
The reverberation of the Captain’s steps made itself present up the hall, and Dirofil instantly shot for the door-opening mechanism.
“Dirofil, come here right now or I am going to make The Doctor find out how to grow you some skin so I can properly flagellate your sorry rear!”
As the Thinker infused his soul into the metallic semisphere, the door started sliding down. “You’ll have to catch me first, Parvov!” he exclaimed playfully.
Even before the ramp door finished its swing down Dirofil had already hopped out into the sea, propelling his body towards the nearest group of Bernese by using his legs as springs.
“Dirofil! Come back here! I was exaggerating!” Then Parvov grunted in frustration and lashed out against the Splinters. “What are you looking at? Attune and tell everyone there’s been an emergency and I need to leave the ship!”