Metamorphosis: Chapter 3
Title: Metamorphosis
Author: E.E Kelley/Bells
Summary: Left on earth for the next Three Years, will Wikus be able to survive on his own or will the group of Poleepkwa who have already opened their arms be able to help...and will he even let them? New chapters posted twice weekly.
Genre: Primarily Angst with a dash of H/C and Drama thrown on into the mix for a touch of flavour.
Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Themes, Christopher to appear in later chapters.
A/N: Here introduces a fair amount of terms, as well as a general learning curve in knowledge about the Poleepkwa culture and social order. I do want to clarify that I'm working on a major in Biological ANTHROpology, and thus am no expert on etymology as a whole. If I'm unclear at any parts, just take a hammer to my head and/or take the time to point out inconsistencies. If anyone is interested I'll post an appendix of my compiled info, including rank system, general cultural structure, anatomy, alien terminology, etc.
Chapter Three: A Place in the Dark
Sitting on the mattress, Wikus wrapped his arms around legs, hugging the alien figure of his own body. He felt like a child, and in some ways he very much was one. Wikus sat in the hovel trying to come to terms with what the elder had shown him, trying to understand. And yet, it wasn't anything completely new, wasn't a concept completely strange to him. He had known that the aliens shared a "hive mind", that their society functioned with classes -- ranks -- and that those who had come on the ship were missing a leader.
And still, it all flooded through him like a wave and the oddity of it all hit Wikus once more full force. So he just hugged his spiny legs tighter and watched the door, waiting for the other alien to return. Even if he understood nothing else, his body seemed to know that the crimson (prawn) was in some ways similar to how Christopher had been -- the same rank really. He couldn't have felt it at the time of his transformation, but Wikus knew that Christopher and the red-shelled alien were of the same set, and now, so was he.
The door swung open and Wikus was immediately on his feet, head still lowered. He cursed, hating that his body was foreign enough to act on its own, to not really be his own anymore. He wanted to scoff openly at the creature in front of him, wanted to throw a handful of insults in the bugs direction to keep upcoming discomfort from being shared, but the words wouldn't come. His body already knew: the one in front of him had a higher rank and he needed to wait for the elder to speak before he uttered so much as a click.
It was a long moment, but the silence cracked slowly in two as if being slit by a wedge. "We need to speak," he said very slowly, words precise.
Wikus dared a look up, and instantly wished he hadn't. The crimson alien was waring a strange expression, antenna twitching with anxiety, eyes never meeting his own.
"Ill assume you're feeling more at ease, then." said the creature.
Wikus nodded, but at the same time wanted to scream out, to ask what was wrong, but he couldn't make himself. He wanted to rush forward and just shake the prawn until he told him everything, but his entire being rebelled against that idea, cementing him in place.
"It's good to know you recovered from that, but we have a great deal more to discuss. I want to make very clear everything that you've...learned." Clasping his smaller arms together, he continued, still slow and deliberate, "Could you sit, please Wikus? I want to talk."
A second crate was pulled out of the shadows for Wikus and the two took a seat, both avoiding eye contact. It was as though the silence had returned to infect the room once more, and nobody spoke for a frustrating few moments.
"I know that human scientists have come to understand we share a mindset somewhat similar to creatures already existing on your planet, but it seems as though they have never truly grasped the extent of our order. I believe that you should be better...aquatinted with it now." he stopped, exhaling heavily as if under a burden, "But there's something different, something strange about this situation, about your position in all this, Wikus. You don't seem to fit the same way."
WIkus' head jerked up and it was as if the long spell. He was on his feet, raging.
"So what: I don't have a fooking place as a fooking bug! It's not like I care! What reason could I want to be apart of some fooking colony for giant ants anyway!" the words were bitter, but no matter how much he wanted to mean them, were all lies. He was beginning to understand the order, beginning to understand the beautiful place that everything fit in, the way that
"It's not as though you don't have a place, Wikus, please sit down. I just said that there is something different from the usual." he ushered the smaller alien to quell his rage and sit once more. "You should already be aquatinted with the order of things, as it is well ingrained within your mindset as a fellow Poleepkwa."
The word stuck with Wikus, feeling somehow right.
"And as I'm sure you can feel, there is a startling empty position among our order here on this planet. Under normal circumstances, our race is held in order by our -- as humans would perceive -- Queen. She rules over the race as a whole, mostly channeling her power through a series of individual coven leaders called the "Next-Queens". These leaders report directly to the leader, making sure that everything runs smoothly, normally taking up the high position themselves after the elder perishes. Below them are the Nobles -- the direct offspring and mates of the leaders." he paused as if taking a very long gasp of air, "It is easy to tell, but Earth is barren of any leaders, and thus our race run aimless, unable to pull themselves into some semblance of order for they feel this loss.
"But, that is only for the majority, for the drones who make up most of the population. Without a leader, these Poleepkwa can only function on a primitive level -- for they feel the physical place where there is no leader, missing as though they were missing a limb. But, I do not feel this type of loss and, it seems, neither do you."
Before the other could continue, Wikus broke through with eager chirps, "What do you mean? I feel some damn empty spot and it feels bloody awful! How's that any different?"
"You feel it, but your mind is still your own, as well as your thoughts and your primary ability to reason out. You are not apart of the population of workers, as we expected you to be. You are of a different rank, one that usually are only able to be bred among one another, and it is very--"
"What's wrong with me!" Wikus fought the urges in him to remain submissive and stood over the crimson alien, glaring down, "So I get turned into a fooking alien, but now I'm not even normal for a prawn?"
"No-no!" the elder alien hushed, "There's nothing wrong, I just said different. You're not of the average rank, you are of a higher rank that is all too uncommon these days among the District. You're Heraldry, just like I am and just like your friend Christopher was."
Wikus sat back down, making no other move to speak. He just stared back at the other alien, words making too much sense.
"There is nothing wrong, it's just that with so few Heraldry on this planet, your transformation is somewhat of a shock." the elder spoke quickly, eyes still averted, "There is nothing wrong with it, just a surprise is all. That, and there are some primary differences within how the higher rank function in comparison to the Poleepkwa that human scientists have surveyed over the last three decades.
Wikus nodded, keeping absolutely still, working hard to keep his mouth parts silent, to make no sound. But that didn't last very long, as the tension was pressing down on his mind like a physical presence.
"What's different? I was with Christopher, and he didn't seem--"
"The higher rank -- at least your rank -- has very few physical differences from your typical Poleepkwa. But, in regards to mental functions, the center of the brain that focuses mostly upon the hive functions as well as instinctual centers, is much less developed than that of your typical drone. As well, other portions of the brain are heightened, as well as your sense of free will."
"So what you're fooking saying is I could have turned into some mindless bug and that would have just been normal? I could have lost my fooking mind and nobody would have thought that was out of the goddamn ordinary? You all expected me to turn into some mindless ant just like the rest of you!" Wikus was worked up again, antenna twitching, (maxillary) clacking viciously between each word.
The elder looked suddenly angry, "You have to understand, human, that nothing is wrong for us with that. You would still have had your own mind, but you would have been more in tune with the rest of the population. You would have been of the mindset to work as a group." He was standing now, towering over Wikus and inciting submission again, "See what our race has accomplished that yours has not? I'm sure that you understand now, that you can see how very little humans have (created) in comparison to Poleepkwa! There is nothing wrong with our ways, just your simple minded assumptions that we are lower than you!"
Before Wikus could say anything, the alien stormed out of the shack, slamming the door so that it rattled on its hinges, shaking the hovel like a leaf in the wind.
Wikus could not understand why the prawn had been so upset, and stayed on the crate, listening to the hovel continue to quake for a long few minutes after the elder left. He lowered his head, staring at his hands, trying not to understand. But, what the creature had said to him made perfect sense, what the crimson alien had been telling him seemed to click into place with ease. He sat there, waiting for the older alien to return, but after a while began to realize he would not. He had offended the elder, and while Wikus did not understand what had set the older alien off, knew that he would have to be the one to see out penance.
Grumbling in humiliation for having to seek out the forgiveness of one of these bugs, Wikus stumbled towards the door, shaky still on his new limbs.
Opening the door, he nearly (stumbled) into a small figure.
The child was (small) -- (smaller) than most Wikus had seen able to walk around on their own -- but that was not the strange part about this alien. The shell of this young creature was pale enough to be white, appearing (pure) in contrast to Wikus own green and brown carapace. The child stared up at him with milk-white eyes, huge and questioning. Antenna nearly the length of its small body, unfurled and quivered above as if trying to figure something out from the scent of the air.
Wikus watched the child, not sure what to do.
"Yours." he said simply, holding out a can, looking as uncertian as Wikus felt.
Reaching for the can, the child snatched back its arms, curling them against its chest, letting the can drop heavily to the ground. It was as though he didn't want to touch. It was then Wikus noticed another oddity, a startling difference form his own altered anatomy. The smaller limbs on this child were not in the least small, but instead had two large, mantis-like claws that rubbed against another nervously. When the child noticed him staring, the limbs went still, tucked perfectly against his abdomen.
When Wikus didn't make a move for the fallen can, the child snatched it up once more and held it out.
"Yours." he declared adamantly.
The small thing reminded WIkus painfully of Christopher's son, Oliver, and he reached out as delicately as his new claws would allow towards the outstretched can, trying to pick it up without startling the strange child.
Before he could take the food, though, he was knocked off balanced, forced against the side of the shack by a brute force barreling directly into him. Gasping, Wikus slid down the side of the hovel and onto the ground, grunting as he hit that, too, hard. A huge prawn towered over him, shell nearly the same tone as his own, eyes glinting a vicious gold. The alien hissed through tentacles longer than Wikus had before seen, shooting warning growls down. Wikus could only lay there, staring dumbfounded at the enraged prawn.
When finally he tried to speak, the alien only raised the sound of its hissing as if in a warning. Wikus took that warning and just lay there, rubbing the plated notrum that had so hard hit the shack. He was worried that the shell had cracked, and felt a long mar that reached nearly to his right shoulder. When he pressed directly on the crack, little shards of pain erupted and he couldn't help but chirp out in (pain).
"Jacob!" he heard a familiar voice, the crimson prawn who had stormed out earlier, "Jacob, what are you doing?" Pushing past Wikus' attacker, though the angry prawn never ceased the low thrum of its growl, the elder emerged.
"You should not have done that, Jacob. This is not the time nor the place to--"
"He's MNU; human." Jacob hissed, "He doesn't belong here."
"He was human, but as you can see, the creature before you is clearly Poleepkwa." The other alien raised an arm as if to silence the growing rage.
"He might look like one of us, but that does not make him anything more than an impostor. A human mind and human thoughts are still carried in that disguise, and I for one do not trust him!"
"Calm yourself!" he ordered, "That mind is no more human than your own."
The green prawn hissed, never turning from Wikus. "That's hard to believe. He might look like we do, but this monster started out as MNU."
"Yes, he did, but you witnessed: he was fighting the humans not working for their organization. He allowed for the ship to finally begin its journey home! He is one of us an he has been integrated within the colony already. See for yourself, there are only remnants of humanity now, and soon that will be gone as well."
Wikus fidgeted a little where he lay, and if it weren't for the hissing creature above him would have snapped ragefully at the elder in defense of his humanity!
Grunting, Jacob lowered his hiss to a barely noticeable buzz and lowered himself in front of where Wikus lay. Instinctually cringing back, the crack along Wikus back jarred the shack and pain once more flooded his system as though he had broken a bone. Chirping out softly, Wikus shrank into himself. He could see the huge green prawn's face level with his own, and choked back the discomfort in an attempt at silence.
Golden eyes surveyed him as if taking in everything, drinking in the entirety of his appearance and working some difficult problem on in the aliens mind. Suddenly, Wikus felt another sensation as well -- the lightest touch against his own antenna. He dared a glance up and saw Jacob doing something very similar to what the elder had earlier. Two sets of antenna wrapped around another, the larger aliens feeling over the surface of Wikus until it seemed to have found the correct space.
As though a flash of colour were moving before his eyes, Wikus saw suddenly images -- some he knew, some of him, and some that he barely understood. He wanted to call out again, frustrated once more at a lack of understanding, but remembered the larger creature in front of him and clamped tentacles and labrium hard to keep the smallest noise from escaping. But before he realized what was happening, the pain had fallen away from his mind and all Wikus could feel was that same sensation of belonging, of perfect order that he had only once before. A great peace washed over him as though the colony's perfect semblance was somehow comforting him so completely.
Before Wikus realized what he was doing, he was leaning into the larger prawn, tightening his own (grip) on the other antenna as though he were holding on for (dear life). A steady hum rose from him once more, like the purr of a feline.