Backup Procedures chapter 8

Mooring was laid out on a grid. However, nothing required the grids be filled in with similar rationality. The block on the North-east corner of Maple and Wraith was given over to a haphazard pile of cargo containers. They were laid out in a semi-circle that formed the city's main market The containers themselves served as a group of high traffic, but lower rent buildings. It was also set between the Brazilian and the Descended neighborhoods.

            Near the apex of the semi-circle, across the market from the intersection of Maple and Wraith, was the Crock and Cow. Originally built from a single cargo-crate, the bar expanded in a fittingly organic manner. It first expanded into a kitty-cornered cargo container for more seating, prefabricated walls and other Navy castoffs were soon added. This included much of the kitchen equipment and the sumps for the basement storage.

            Inside the Crock and Cow haw low ceilings and dim redish lights. The bar itself was built out of a surplus flagstone from the Port Authority building. It was held up on three points shorter chunks of stone. It was a material that even the bar's patrons had difficulty damaging. Though there were a few deep scratches along the surface, in addition to the occasional scorch mark and bullet-crack.

            Sitting on one side of the bar, facing the door, and with their backs to the wall, were two recon agents. One had pale green hair cut into a short bob and wore a black leather jacket over a matching dress and pointed boots. Next to her sat a spare man with short hair in a plain set of jeans and red checkered jacket.

             Blood splattering up as the bartender dropped a metal plate onto the bar. "Blue, just as ordered," Murphy, a bandy-armed man, grumbled.

            The steak before him had been hardly charred and was still cold in the center. The lager he put down next to the ribeye was warmer. He had a full beard and he wore a stripped down shirt to deal with the heat of the grill and a dirty blue butcher's apron to deal with the splatter, and carry some tools of the trade. He idly adjusted a set of tongs that hung from a hook on the front of his apron.

            Inhaling deeply, Agent Kelly Anderson gave a delighted purr. "Oh you're almost as good as Merva."

            Murphy snorted. "We've got the same butcher."

            Kelly pulled out her wallet. "Still don't take debit?"

            "Não, no Company script." Murphy crossed his arms. "Dollars, Reais, Imperial Stav, or bullion."

            "Yeah, yeah," Kelly grumbled as she dropped some coins onto the counter. Glossy silver, each coin was set with a cut purple stone in the center that softly glowed in the low light. A flowing script, Otic, was written around the circumference between the gem and the deeply milled, almost gear-like, edges.

            Feeling that the gem was cooler than the metal around it, Murphy nodded. "What about you slim?" He asked, making change. He dropped a handful of smaller silver coins, these set with tiny yellow stones, in front of Kelly.

            "Whisky. Good. Two," Weiss stated. "Pickle platter."

            Murphy nodded and poured two shot glasses and slid them in front of Weiss. He then fished a ladle in a large jar that sat on the back bar. After a couple scoops, he had filled a metal bowl with a collection of pickled peppers, leeks, carrots, cucumbers, and onions. He put the brine-soaked bowl in front of Weiss.

            The combat tech handed over a few dollars. Murphy pocketed the money and shuffled away.

            Murphy's solution to cutlery theft was to stop supplying any. Forks and knifes could be purchased but not without a degree of derision. The policy had the side bonus of dramatically reducing glassware theft as well.

            "You're not getting a burger?" Kelly asked as she pulled out her combat knife and a fork from her vest's pocket and started slicing her steak.

            "We'll be getting plenty tomorrow."

            "Yeah but that'll be that mass frozen bulk crap the company buys."

            "I'm not made of money," Weiss shrugged as he popped a pepper into his mouth. "Speaking of that where'd you get the Stav?"

            "Mother's Christmas money," Kelly shrugged.

            "Christmas? I thought you weren't religious... you know before."

            Kelly sighed.

            "Ah, right Shelia."

            "Seeing her and Merva's kids get all excited does make it worth it." Smiling, Kelly set about her meal.

            "I guess if anyone has deep pocket's it’s the Sarge,"

            "Feh, you make more than her." Kelly then popped a chunk of steak into her mouth. "Besides, I'm not paying for it." She grinned, then dabbed her bloody lips.

            "You said it was Christmas money."

            "Oh it is, just not mine."

            Realization hit Weiss as he bit into a pickled beet. "The bet with Cat?"

            Happily chewing, Kelly nodded. "Mmmm... so much better than fish."

            "If you say so." Weiss sipped his shot.

            "You know, I could be with Noravi." Kelly put her knife down and glanced sidelong at him.

            "Isn't she having her physical?"

            Kelly frowned.

            "And didn't you say she'd be coming right over?" Weiss added.

            "Smart ass," Kelly grumbled as she resumed her meal.

            Smirking, Weiss watched her eat for a couple moments. "So?"

            Kelly paused, waving her fork about. "Yes?"

            "Did you like it that much... before?"

            "The meat or Noravi?" Kelly asked, toothily.

            "I can guess about your mate," Weiss remarked.

            "Is this really what's got you worried? Meat?" Kelly laughed. "Geeze grow a pair."

            "That's not funny."

            "Oh yes it is." Kelly picked up her glass. "You're over-thinking this, and yet you're under thinking the important stuff."

            "I'm just wondering what I'll expect. The Sergeant didn't really elaborate."

            "You do realize that Mother, the Sergeant, will be your mother."

            After eying the shot in front of him, Weiss downed it. "That's hardly my biggest worry. I can handle another mother. I've already got two."

            Kelly blinked.

            "No...." Weiss coughed. "Stepmother. My father remarried.

            "Ah," Kelly nodded. "Well, that doesn't happen often with us."

            "I've noticed."

            Kelly contemplated her drink. "Bear that in mind," she said, slowly swirling the glass

            "This related to the mother issues?"

            Kelly barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's an understatement." She took a long pull from her lager.

            "Understatement?"

            "Why do you think that we organize into little broods? Beyond the whole engineered and selectively-bred pack predator thing."

            "There's developmental issues due to your hybrid nature; the brood mothers provide a stabilizing influence and can act as another regulator," Weiss recited.

            "Yes, another delightful gift from the Makers." Poking one of her horns, Kelly clenched her jaw. "These things'll drive you nuts. And you won't have twenty years to get used to it."

            "You're saying you had to deal with twenty years of growing in one burst?"

            "No-" Kelly ate some of her steak. "Okay, that is true, and hope you enjoy going through all of puberty in one shot." She tapped her foot.

            "There's something worse?" Weiss looked down at his pickles; his stomach gave a little revolt.

            Kelly chuckled. "There's a reason it's called 'life' insurance. My point is to underscore the power Mother, the Sergeant, or whoever gets to you, will have over you, or Coriana or Pete."

            "Oh."

            "Have you ever seen someone, just after I mean?"

            Weiss shook his head.

            "It's a sight. Look at Merva's girls. They've had years to grow into what they are, how well do you think you'll do?"

            "Well, look at yourself. By that reckoning you're only a few years old."

            "Yes, and Mother still treats me like the baby." Kelly rubbed an arm. "In a way I am."

            "Isn't this all moot? I mean this is pretty extreme insurance we're talking about."

            "I just don't want you to go into this blind." She licked her lips.

            "Is this why we haven't talked with this Norton fellow?"

            "Hmmm?"

            "The freelance reporter that's been prowling around. Notice, he hasn't talked to us? The lieutenant has been keeping us busy with training and equipment checks."

            "If Norton really wanted to talk to us he'd meet us outside of work."

            Weiss laughed. "Not unless the Company said that was okay. Also he'd know we'd clam up unless we got approval."
            Kelly poked her steak. "That's it then. We're a Recon team. I'm sure Corporate doesn't want to advertise us."

            "He's already talked with the Pilots and Shelia," Weiss added. "I'd think the dubbing program is more sensitive."

            The Descended shrugged. "It's more marketable. Company works out the bugs and they'll make a mint. Everyone wants to cheat death."

            "It is good advertising. So that's why they keep us under wraps? We're not a future consumer product?"

            "Dunno," Kelly looked to Weiss. "You got a theory, I'm guessing?"

            "Well, privacy. Look how hesitant you are, and you know me."

            Kelly laughed. "Yes, bashful baby demon."

            "Well, how long has it been, for you?"

            "Just about three years."

            "Regrets?"

            Kelly's lips formed a languid smile. "Well there's the obvious ones... but-" The Descended shrugged. "What is there to say?

            "At least it's better than being dumped into a backup clone," Weiss offered.

            "Is it?" Kelly looked across the cramped bar. "An existential gap versus a species gap? An interesting philosophical point."

            "What about the logistics?"

            "What about them? Both have uncertainty. With the insurance one of us might not get to you in time, or someone could blow your head off." She shrugged. "On the other hand the Pilots are completely backed up, but that process has a much higher failure rate. That and they're sterile, so that's a point against 'em."

            "Which would you rather do?"

            Kelly gave him a cross and disappointed expression.

            "Sorry." Weiss lowered his head.

            "Don't be." Kelly ate some more steak. "If I could do it again? If I had the choice?" She looked down the scarred and battered stone of the bar. "That Agent Anderson's gone. Does my choice right now matter?"

            "Does it?"

            Kelly shrugged. "What about you? If you could do it again would you sign onto the Company? Would you become a combat tech?"

            Weiss looked down at his hands. Grey lines ran under the skin and connected with the silver nails on his thumbs. "I dunno. I've been this way for years."

            Standing, Kelly patted him on the back. "That's my thinking."

            "Am I freaking out too much?"

            "Nah, you're just worried about death. That's what this whole insurance thing is about after all." Kelly smiled at Weiss's slight nod and took the circuitous route to the Crock and Cow's bathroom.

***************

            A crane operator, Tim Shackleford had a simple job. The man assured him that it would tide him over until his suspension was lifted, and Tim could hardly argue with the money, or the job.

            Waiting for the demon to leave, he steeled himself. He could do this. The tumbler of gin was quickly downed. A bit of bluff and bolster and he could walk away. After half a minute, Tim stood up and walked over to the bar. There was no breaking stride there were no second thoughts. He could do this.

            The slight man at the bar looked up. The grey lines under his skin made identification easy, though the flashed of silver on his thumbs were a bit strange.

            "Don't move you fancy prick!" Tim shouted. He cleared his coat revealing a wide-gripped handgun strapped to his hip. His hand went to the butt of the weapon but hovered just over it.

            "Really?" Keeping his hands visible Weiss rotated on the bar stool and looked up at the red-faced stocky, almost portly, man.

            Despite the crowding in the cramped dank bar the room started to clear. Murphy put his hands into the side pockets of his grease and brine splattered butcher's apron. "Sit back down Shackleford."

            Off to the side, Weiss noticed Murphy going for the two hammerless revolvers he carried in his apron. In a pinch they could be fired without drawing them out. The accuracy would be horrid but at this range it would suffice.

            The room emptied even more when Kelly returned from the bathroom. "Don't do anything rash," she stated her tail level and straight. One hand to her side, the other held palm up in what appeared to be a calming gesture, with her fingers slowly curling in and out.

            "Shut up dyke!" Tim yelled.

            Wiese cracked a smile. "She wasn't talking to you."

            "You damn Pilots think you're pretty special, but you're not so hot without your planes or your demon lapdogs." Tim drew his weapon, but hesitated, keeping it pointed at the ground.

            "Walk away. Now." Weiss' grin vanished. "If you were put up to this, I'd suggest you take your rage out on whoever hired you."

            Kelly laughed, without it reaching her eyes. "Fine, the hassle of cleaning up the mess will be worth it."

            "You shut your face!" Tim raised the gun.

            Weiss flicked his hand out, jabbing the sharp silver nail of his right thumb into Tim's thigh. Blood welled up.Tim screamed. Then his index finger blew apart. Blood, bone, and muscle burst into messy chunks.

            Reaching up with his right arm, Weiss knocked the gun away from his body then grabbing the blood-soaked metal twisted it out of Tim's twitching grip. Without taking his eyes from Tim, Weiss put the gun on the bar. "You're lucky."

            Rocking back, Tim cradled his arm. "My hand you freak!"
            "Yes. If it'd had been a few drinks later it would have been your whole hand. Concentration you know. A bit after that and I'd have just taken your neck." Weapon already in hand, Weiss scanned what was left of the crowd.

            Nodding, Murphy relaxed his arms. "Pretty clean. Appreciate it."

            "Don't mention it." Weiss returned the nod.

            "You're not going to kill him them?" Having already drawn her weapon, Kelly sighed.

            Weiss leaned back and sipped his whisky. He eyed the gun. It was a cheap Consolidation knockoff. Though that did not make it any less lethal. "If you want you can play with him."

            Kelly crouched down and sniffed the air. "Mmm, fresher than the appetizer."

            Tim's eyes darted between them. Pinching his hand he tried to staunch the blood flow.

            "I suggest you tell her who put you up to this sooner, rather than later." Weiss assured as he pulled out his phone.

            "You're not going to help? But you can make cuts in places that I can't." Sliding out the claws on her left hand, Kelly pouted.

            "Well Tim, should I help this little lady? Should we have fun with internal damage?  Or do you want to talk? I'm pretty sure I can make you a paraplegic with one slice. I might miss and hit an artery though," Weiss said distantly studying the fallen man. He then shrugged.

            "At least let me stop the mess." Kelly took the cowering man's hand Blood poured. As if holding a ball, the Descended curled her claws in. There was a bright spark, and small flaming, sphere coalesced. It was the size of a large marble. An acrid, sulfurorous scent rose from the red-tinged orb.

            Rapt, Tim watched the flames bob between the woman's fingers. "How?"

            Grinning she stared down the man. "It's just an aetheric suspension."

            "Yeah, yeah, works just like the wings." Frowning Weiss put down his phone. "Quit playing with him."

            "Fine." Kelly flicked her fingers and the flaming orb shot right at the stump of Tim's trigger finger. The orb burst on contact. The gooey interior clung to the mangled meat and skin and a split second later it ignited.

            Tim's screamed anew. The flames and pain lessened revealing a cauterized wound. "You fucking dyke!" the man bawled.

            Kelly licked a bit of the blood that had splattered on her lips. "At least now you've got a reason to swear at me. What's the plan for him?" She asked Weiss, not taking her eyes off Tim.

            Weiss smiled at the man, showing his teeth. "Noleta's coming, and she's bringing your sisters. Then we'll all have a fun little chat about security."

            Tim edged back.

            "Now, now, Mr. Shackleford. You're the one that wanted to air your grievances with us."

            Gurgling, Tim nodded.

            "Why did you go after us? Are you really that stupid and drunk?"

            "Tim Shackleford's a stupid drunk, but he's not this stupid." Murphy added from behind the bar. "Damn fool'll drink himself out of a job but he's not this dumb, normally."

            "What then?" Weiss scanned the room again. "Distraction. Someone really did put you up to this?" He pulling out his etched combat knife.

            Tim gave another weak nod. His face looked pained.

            "Well, who was it?" Kelly demanded.

            Shivering, Tim coughed. Blood came up, which rapidly started to turn darken and thicken. The man twitched and flopped onto his back. A purple collar of massive internal bleeding spread around his neck.

            The Descended mercenary watched the man die. Mild amused interest quickly turned to annoyance. "Weiss you stupid bastard!"

            "It wasn't me!" Weiss, cried.     "Another tech? Shit."

            "Yeah, no shit Mr. Wizard."

            Weiss frowned. "And one with a sense of humor. He could have killed this chump any time."

           "That's nice," Kelly took out her radio and keyed the low-grade emergency button.

           "I already called."

           "And now I'm calling on a different system." Kelly turned to the bartender. "Murphy, you've got a landline?"

           Murphy grunted.

           "Use it do a direct dial with the Company. Just tell the secretary-bot the situation, that'll be enough." Kelly turned back to the corpse. "What's the point? Why setup a drunk just to kill him off?"

***************

           Across town, Shelia Ford sat at the bar of the Mooring Sheraton. Horns visible, her tail and wings were hidden. It was an intimate low-lit room done in gentle pastels with textured walls and baroque furniture. The room was simultaneously too pompous and too tacky for a place like New Carlisle. The Descended stirred her cocktail and looked at the fish tank that was set in the wall behind the bar.

           Eventually, the man sitting next to her finished talking, and the purple-haired woman nodded. "Well, I have to say: he's right."

           "What?" Norton screamed. "But you're a Descended!"

           "Really? Hadn't noticed." Shelia tilted her head.

           "He's a racist Maker-loving ivory-tower crackpot. I can play the recording if you like."

            "I doubt he could handle the Maker's... love." Shelia smiled thinly. "But he's right about the conflicts of interest and loyalty issues. If anything he downplays the risk the Descended present at the individual level. Which is a bit typical. People like him like to revel in their sense of superiority."

            "Downplay? The man thinks the Empire is plotting a massive conspiracy to lead the human race as cannon fodder in their war against the Makers."

            Shelia shrugged. "Sure. I can see that."

            Norton shook his head. "And you think he underplays the threat... um... you pose?"

            "Certainly. I'm a xenobiologist, a Descended, and a brood mother. I know full-well what the power this body has." Shelia waved a hand over herself. "There's a reason Descended culture has strong taboos against abusing children and violations of the body."

            "The same reasons that humanity does, those tactics are counterproductive to a functional civilization."

            "Yes, but they're stronger in us," Shelia looked down. "I don't like to say it, but people like Teage have a point. We should be skeptical of the Descended Empire."

            "He seems far more than just skeptical."

            "He's a hate-filled bastard, but he is correct that our demonic friends aren't all smiles and hugs."

           "We.. ah yes."

           "I'm an American." Shelia curtly said. "Typical of the mad, Teage has observed a valid problem, which is no endorsement of his solution. Also despite his protests, he confuses the Descended as a species with the Descended as a nation. About five percent of the Descended Empire is human."

           "Yes, not that many humans escaped with the original thirty thousand. Though they now make up five percent of the empire's population."

           "I am familiar with Exodus. Both of my peoples'." Shelia gave a slight smile and sipped her gin and cranberry juice. "There just weren't that many humans on the few Descended crewed subs that escaped. The Makers didn't trust the common slaves with weapons."

           "Right." Norton drank some of his beer. "Did you know there's places in Haven where there are almost no Descended? It's mostly around the Averian plateau."

           "All humans? Why?"

           "A couple reasons, It's very far inland. The air's a bit too thin to fly, it's at about the same altitude as the Himalayans, and there just weren't that many Descended that far inland and humans already had a strong presence in the lower more fertile valleys approaching the plateau."

           "If it's too thin to fly in then it's nearing being too thin to breathe. We do use more oxygen than humans." Shelia nodded. "So, marginal land that humans settled in because the Descended didn't want it?"

           Norton shrugged. "Haven's a cul-de-sac world, only one Lock. It's mostly a population sump and backup location."

           Shelia nodded. "Like Neva, which has the lone connection to Primorsky Oblast."

           "The Russians are using that world for much the same purpose." Norton drank his beer. "It's just odd. There's villages up in Averi where my guide was the first Descended they'd seen in years."

           "There's places like that springing up on Earth," Shelia countered.

           "Seattle's Helltown?"

           Shelia glared. "That, but I'm talking about  the compounds some broods will setup in the wilderness. The Rockies seem pretty popular."

           "Ah yes," Norton rubbed his chin. "Isolation, privacy, and by Descended standards ample delivery services. I suppose if a brood worked for a few years and pooled their money they could buy a good piece of land."

           "That is the traditional way," Shelia agreed with a bit of trepidation.

           "But see, even in cases like this there's cultural mixing, You can't deny that the Descended have been stalwart allies and useful trading partners."

            "Oh yes. The Descended Empire is a natural fit, and our species work great together. Almost like we were designed that way." After giving a vapid smile, Shelia sighed.

            Norton coughed.

            "The Descended Empire has its own goals and interests, goals separate from Earth's. Naturally, the Descended hate the Makers most of all, but many on Earth consider the Squids to be the greater threat."

            "Hence your point about cannon fodder and wars."

            Shelia nodded. "The Makers haven't struck earth itself, the Squid have. That influences a nation."

            "Especially the French"

            "And the Chinese." Shelia reminded. "If they want to expand their part of the Consolidation it'll take them into Squid waters. Squids have already been spotted in the colonies of Si and Wu, and those are just N3 worlds."

            "The New East Bloc has concentrated on their Inner Colonies and the N2 worlds of the Consolidation."

            "Which makes you wonder what they'd find if they explored a bit further out." Shelia shrugged. "Consider this. If you took Earth off the table. Say all it's Locks suddenly closed.

            "It wouldn't be the first time." Norton said. Earth's Locks were inactive from a period that ran from the fall of the Maker homeworld to April 22, 2007.  Two days later the Squids came and destroyed Rochelle, Brest, and three other seaside cities in between.

            "Yes the lifting of earth's quarantine was suspicious, as the Locks don't normally do that, but that ignores my larger point. Without earth and it's billions and vast factories who is more numerous? Who is more powerful? The mostly human colonies or the mostly Descended Empire?"

            "Ah..." Norton nodded his head.

            "There's what two hundred ten million human colonists? there's hardly one hundred eighty million Descended, total."

            "Given there were only thirty thousand five hundred years ago... that's pretty good," Norton offered.

            "It just shows my species is good at doubling it's population every generation. Though we're starting to slow now," Shelia shrugged.

            "I guess you can compare militaries too. I'd guess there's more human submarines than there are Imperial ones."

            "It's not that bad. If the Descended Empire were a country on Earth would be in the top ten both in population and industrial capacity," Shelia said.

            "The Descended are still largely a rural people, and even that's being generous. They've got more preagricultural mountain "men' than earth has ever had. They've got a strong division between the 'native' savages and the civilized city dwellers," Norton explained.

            "Does fit with the definition of civilization," Shelia said.

            "Yes and their best soldiers are taken from war-like but loyal tribes. A trait that many empires still do on Earth. The British army loves their Gurkha troops. India too. The Descended are just more blatant about it."

            "Reminds me of my in laws." Shelia shook her head. "But that's only half of it, I mean a modern military needs more than warriors that can be trained into soldiers."

            "Correct. Long range military submarines require a lot of technical and industrial ability to create, maintain and crew. Only a handful of nations back on Earth can do it. And for such industrial development you need enough civil society to allow that level of investment and trust to exist. Businesses have to know their contracts will be held, and

that they can go to someone to arbiter in case of breach." Norton shook his head.

            "Yeah, you can't have a bunch of hunter gatherers building submarines and ICBMs," Shelia snickered.

            "The imperial capital's naval academy is still considered the finest place for a technical or historical education."

            "I know, I've read several papers published by the academy. They're among the best in Descended biology," Shelia said.

            "The Navy is the cornerstone to the Empire, given the nature of their enemies and the limitations of Lock travel"

            "Which requires that high level of infrastructure."

            Norton nodded. "They encouraged cities that were already growing and founded ones around bases. This influenced the type of government that formed ."

            "It is strange."

            "Well, it's not all bad. Their negative voting method is interesting, as is their repeal efforts. Also they've got a very passive aggressive way of dealing with bad governance."

            Shelia laughed. "Their passive aggressive protest is better than their aggressive."

            "Indeed. Imperial Descended are a bit too fond of half-brick diplomacy. Then again the Imperial Navy's perfectly fine city states declaring independence, as long as you agree to pay tribute. Otherwise, well, they've got these submarines offshore..."

            "Ah,  government by extortion."

            "Governance is force, the Descended Empire is a bit more... open about it. This becomes a lot more blatant when you get further from the Motherworld."

            "Well, I only went to the Motherworld on a honeymoon," Shelia smiled in memory.

           Norton paused to order another beer. "This misses my larger point."

           "Which is?" Shelia smirked. "All you did was babble about how scary Professor Teage is and then we started talking politics."

           Opening the fresh bottle, Norton felt his neck heat up. Taking a drink, he waited for the heat to pass. "Do you think Teage is a threat?"

           "To who?"

           "To Mooring, to the Company, to America?"

           Shelia stared at the reporter. "You're serious? I thought you just wanted a Descended's reaction to some racist's ranting."

           "No, I think something spooked him. I think he was trying to warn me, but he chickened out."

           "And you decided to talk to me about it."

           "I wanted to see if I was wrong about him."

           "You think he's building a bomb? Or do you think he found some eldritch lore that'll make him invincible?"

           "Very funny. I know it's melodramatic, but I've leaned to trust my instincts."

           "I'm still thinking this is some kind of stunt. Juicy colony gossip to grab some eyeballs back in the States. "

           "Talk to Higgs, he's familiar with my work. I'm on the level.

           Shelia looked down. "Are you serious with this?"

           "Very, I'd bet my career on it."

           The woman flashed a wide smile. "If I kick this up to Corporate you will."

           Norton lowered his chin in a quick nod. "Please, do."

***************

            The blonde Descended stepped into the bedroom, the smell of sweat, blood, and urine struck her nose. Orange eyes shining, she strode forward. Nevlani's tail swished and she smiled toothily. Curled and fluffed her hair hung around her like a golden cloud.

            On the bed were more blonde Descended. The two on the bed were close enough to be sisters. They had the same thin noses and delicate chins as the woman that loomed over them.

            Half a dozen more Descended, all with blonde hair in various shades, lounged in the room. Nude, they shifted between pairs and the occasional trio. Despite their appearance and lack of dress, their motions were less sexual and possessed a more primal need for companionship and comfort.

            When Nevlani entered, they froze. Bowing their heads, the broodlings gave a worried, adoring murmur. Nevlani glided through the prostrate Descended. She caressed the horns of every girl she passed causing them to fall down in awestruck bliss.

            The pair on the bed separated revealing a woman who had been crudely tied to the bed frame. Plastic sheeting lay beneath her, capturing the blood and other fluids. Raked across the woman's body were long but shallow cuts.

            "Laura's starting to loose consciousness, Mother," Alexis the shorter of the Descended daughters atop the bed whined.

            "Humans do that," Nevlani purred. Pushing her daughters aside she sat down on the edge of the bed.

            The bound woman shrieked behind her gag. Young not far into adulthood, Laura Fleming bore a superficial similarity to Nevlani.

            "Still lovely," Nevlani ran a hand along the human's neck. "Better than the last time, Alexis made quite the mess then. Didn't you?"

            Laura screamed through her gag. She looked down at the enthralled Descended below her on the floor. Vacant eyes flashed with hunger and fear. The mewled and whined.

             On the bed, the taller daughter, Revvy, lowered her head and shivered, her tail pointed straight down. Her hands flexed, and she licked her lips. She could taste the human's fear.

            "No matter. She is quite the find. Yes... you'll do," Nevlani turned back to the woman.

            Laura's eyes widened as she struggled against her bonds with renewed vigor. There was no escaping it, she knew awaited her. The woman's blue eyes were deep, and flickering. Gazing deeply, she tried to shake off the Descended's hand.

            "Bad, bad monkey." Nevlani's hand twisted and grabbed the woman's neck.

            Laura gave a muffled cry and made her decision. She closed her eyes and steeled herself.

            Claws slid out, and small trickles of blood oozed out. "You understand? Good." The Descended chuckled. "That deserves a reward."

            Now, Nevlani stared into the woman's blue eyes. The human's fear was starting to sublimate. "Pleasure, joy, bliss. All I can grant." The Descended leaned closer. Her eyes centimeters from the human's.

            Laura stilled, her eyes went cold. Then with a spark of defiance the woman shook her head rolling her neck against the Descended's extended claws. Her vision fading, her last sight was her blood spraying against the orange-eyed demon's shocked face.