CAMELOT DIMENSION 360
The Long Winter
Written by Author
Daton L Fluker
Flemish Translation done by
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CHAPTER 9 EMBARK ON ODXITHON WIND BACK 408 HOURS IX
The previous week, during the court-martials in the mid-city of Apollo, Lord Erickson sits at the supervisor’s desk worrying about his mysterious guest. Torches’ flames preserve the city lights from being drowned out by total darkness. The thick clouds glare upward. The snow storm buries everything in the city. Lord Erickson’s Lieutenant plots his bottom down on top of the table.
“Why didn’t you kill them? They lie about who they are! Those stories are only mythical! There are no such things as aliens!”
“Why should I kill innocent beings? It’s not the way I’ve trained this regiment. They’ve confessed to their crimes. Let them be. Besides, what if the legends are correct? Who will you answer to when you kill one-of-their-kind?”
“Maybe you’re right. Aren’t you the least worried about where they actually came from? They could have been ordered by Lord Spolylosys to venture into our domain. They could be demons.”
Leith doesn’t believe in Spolylosys or Trilyonois. He masquerades the idea. Nevertheless, his battalion believes in the kingdom of Trilyonois. He only swears by what his father and mother indoctrinated into his mind during his youth. His beliefs conceit the concept of reincarnation. He has to feign the Camelot ideas and methodology. We transform our bodies and minds from the dawn of our first breath to the enhancements of our final steps. Meeting Elizabeth confirms his religious beliefs. Souls change; however, they eventually find their way back home.
“I killed more than my share of men in my life time, so I truly don’t care if Spolylosys comes after me or not! If I fight him on this world, then I won’t have to do it when I die. My spot is already reserved for me. However, you, on the other hand, should bring me more prisoners. If you kill a couple more, then you’ll have your permit to live there too! So stop wasting valuable time!”
The lieutenant stands up.
“Bring the next scoundrel! You heard me, get a man in front of this desk immediately!”
Unexpectedly, a loud roar expands from out of the woods. It echoes back a hundred times louder.
LIEUTENANT SWORDSMAN (CONT’D)
“What was that?”
You know exactly what they are; did you not witness them with your own eyes?
“I’m not sure what they were. I’m just happy they’re gone.”
“Another snow blizzard will eruct over the forest. The night isn’t over yet. Whatever they’re up to, might infringe terrible things in our direction. I hope they leave as far away from this place as they can travel. Unexplained things exist in this world. The battle is never over. Even so, be careful not to bet to fast.”
“I’m not afraid of a good fight. My discomfort comes from the idea that we might encounter something that we cannot battle.”
Eloving’s Journey Back Home
Eloving leads the run. The other Odxithon paces behind him; they move at full velocity. Their eyes are trained to the darkness. Their particular skills to see beyond the shadows give them the ability to feel through the blackness with their imagination, the sound of their cries echoes through the woods. They design mental maps of the area.
They have the capability to utilize sonar signals, which calculate their surroundings every time they scream aloud. The sound is a terrible shrieking noise; nevertheless, it’s effective for seeing in the dark.
Conversely, these weren’t the extra echoes heard in the city. Large trees reach up into the atmosphere touching the sky with their lifeless branches. It’s freezing in every direction. The midnight eerie place proceeds with unimaginable revulsion.
The trepidation of their trot slows. Shadows appear among the quiet tree saps, which bustle with spirits in all directions.
Eloving and the other Odxithon horary to a complete stop, the snow instantly clears. Many miles to their front, moonlight seeps into the cracks of the trees. Eloving turns to his left. Shadows dance in the moonlight. He turns to his right. A body of something crosses through his open eyesight. The air smells natural. A petite fog rings between the skyline and the forest. Snow caps the ground.
The unfitness of the mulch never loses its ambience, even after hundreds of years of ice shadowing the area’s hiding place. The spirit pulsation stops.
The fog thickens in front of them and an assembly of shadows ambitions them to go forward. The spirits dance in sequence. The white fog spears into the midnight eerie. Eloving wants to catch the spirits. He yells out to the dispersion of the smoke. Something answers him back with a sequence of noises.
Eloving and the other Odxithon take off chasing after the fog. The more rapid they run, the farther away the phantom runners move. The first screams echo together with the other creatures’ calls. Aggression invades peacefulness.
Envision emptiness then a sudden boom of sonic behavior. The inside of the forest in-animates their screams. The loudness blades through the void, piercing the atmosphere.
This training session would be a brutal punishment to any man’s body. Running through the arctic forest naked, would put a toll on someone’s organs, let alone at the speed their traveling. The further they run, the faster their metabolism speeds-up. The temperature in their blood pummels hot similar to a locomotive coal engine. It burns with a furious rage.
The Rabbit-dust springs away as the Odxithons chase after it through newer sections of the forest.
Triangular paths of trees procure downward. They will bow forever waiting until their majesty appears a foolish waste of time. The queen will appear, but not in the form of sustenance. She’ll appear as natural disasters, wiping waves of historical storms through a treacherous reunion.
Making succinct bashing noises, their hoofed feet smash at the muddy foliage. It’s like a small cavalry anticipating the frozen ice underneath a lost battleground.
Phantoms to the left and phantoms to the right move into the Odxithons’ path. The speculation of energy screams shoots through the silence.
The rabbit-smoke in front of them halts. They run forward into the fog. The other Odxithon doesn’t come out the other side. Eloving freezes three meters behind the irregular precipitation.
A different Odxithon stands in front of him. He wears a chest-plate, a helmet, and holds a lightweight sword. His lower body is uncovered and hairless. The encounter appropriates centimeters away from each other.
With a highly sensitive nose, Eloving can smell the aroma of other Odxithons in the area. They were the spirit creatures running the outer perimeters. Eloving and the new Odxithon scream to the top of their lungs in each other faces.
They calm their breathing. Closing their eyes, they transfer thoughts telepathically.
Eloving’s chest ventilates firm, while he catches his breath. After all, he has been locked up in an underground dungeon for three decades. He’s a little winded after the run.
“Eloving your father is passing away. He needs your comfort. He wants to talk to you.”
“Why hadn’t anyone tried to save me? It has been more than three decades since my capture.”
“Your father knew that you would escape around this time. He didn’t want us to make a connection with the humans. We’re not supposed to exist to them.”
“But I’m the prince of the colony. This doesn’t make any apparent since to me. It’s truly far away, and I’m too weak to travel that far without food and rest.”
Don’t worry. 20-miles away, the galactic-ship feathers over the tree tops. It’s hidden aside from human eyes. If we hurry, we can make it to your father before he passes. Sir, are you ready?”
“Ready as I ever will be. Follow behind me. My legs may give out. I’m still pretty weary of my time spent in the dungeon.”
“Ok sir, we’ll be behind you!”
The commander takes off his chest-plate, handing it to Eloving. He gives him his sword then runs into the outer perimeter of the woods.
Eloving is alone fastening his armor. The armor is special made for their kind of species. It instantly snaps in place. Glancing up, seeing the many miles of blackness, he closes his eyes so his imagination can make a mental map of the area. Gripping his sword, he points it toward the ground.
His firmly fit muscles lump out of his arms as he screams. The other Odxithons answer back.
Taking off into the darkness, Eloving loses control over himself. His mental map misplaces a tree root, which bulges out from under his first steps. He trips; his forward momentum slams him into the tree.
The commander’s breastplate protected him from injuring himself. Eloving hasn’t used telepathic mapping for over thirty years, so he’s a little rusty. The accident made him angry. The extra adrenaline in his body causes him to run faster. He picks himself up then wails out an awful sound. He re-sketches his mental analogue.
Taking off like a rocket, Eloving pushes forward with all his strength. The trees in front alter movement. It’s more of a plausible projection stalking him in the immense woodlands. It’s like being in a daydream with twilight creatures running meters away. He was born to sprint in the obscurity of the night, and now he is free to storm the submissive terrain with his forceful pace.
The light from the three moons comforts his path, but the faces on the moons heckle as he jumps into the air doing a frontward flip over a patch of thorny bushes. Landing on his feet on the other side of the bushes, his knees give out. He tumbles to the icy dirt.
The Odxithon tails keep them balanced. However, he and the other captured Odxithon have a tougher time than the rest of them because their tails have been hacked off. His Commander comes from out of the intelligent darkness towering over him. He mentally transfers thoughts.
“Sir, are you ok?”
Eloving doesn’t say anything, his adrenaline sky rockets. Thrusting to his feet, all he can think about is getting back home to speak to his father. The last time he and his father talked, his father was extremely ill.
Eloving forces out the animal which contents his heart, instead of his intellectual abilities to get him through this. He screams out a terrible yowl.
The Lieutenant moves back into the shadows. Eloving takes off through the woods, breaking awesome speed limits. Something, not sure what it was, has cut into his thigh rod muscle; now his emerald blood spills over the forest foliage, making a trail for any carnivorous creature to follow.
Sadly, his heart begins to give out, and he feels himself losing momentum. Falling to his knees, he slides into a large tree. The shadows stop with him. He anticipates thoughts to them.
“Give me some water and something to eat. My energy is failing.”
Two Odxithons spear through the shades carrying food and a camel-pack filled with water. They give him dried snails. Sitting there, they observe him while he eats. He devours the snails and gorges down the water. Taking the camel pack, and his sword, they disappear into the thick brushes. Eloving has more flexibility since he lost the extra weight. When he rises up from off his knees, he feels injuries relinquishing through his body. His hips teem with pain. The skin on his knees is scraped down to the bone.
He screams out an awful sound. It disturbs the silence of the peaceful woodlands. Slowing his speed, he is concerned about his injuries. His legs might give out if he doesn’t take caution to his pace. The darkness withdraws a mysterious panic in his heart. He closes his eyes to see the mental map. Being around humans so long has shattered this ill-individual-component to not appropriately function correctly.
When we stop using our writing or speaking abilities, then we lose context of what we have learned as a child, so it’s true that practice makes perfect.
Suddenly, he stops. The commander conceives thoughts to him.
“Sir we have to keep going. We only have 10 more miles. We need to finish this.”
“Wait, something is wrong.”
Eloving screams to the top of his lungs.
PRINCE ELOVING (CONT’D)
“Something is wrong. Everyone stop! Those trees have moved. They aren’t there anymore?”
“Sir, I believe your technique isn’t working accurately. We need to get you to the checkpoint. Let me take the lead, so we won’t run into anymore trouble.”
It’s not that. I can make a measly 10-miles. But something is out of place. Let’s stop for a while, until I figure this out.”
“Sir, we have to keep moving. Your father will die soon.”
“Don’t you think I know that? It was his foolish rules, which kept me in danger all these years. I’m not sure I’ll be living, if we run another 30 miles. What’s going on? Hello. Commander, are you there?”
They lose mental connection, then his men all scream at once.
Then they shut-up. Eloving tries to correlate a mental connection, but none of the Odxithons answer him back. No more shadows bustle to his right or left. They have disappeared.
He pictured this situation in his mind, but none of his comrades believed him. He’s searching for them, excluding the fact that he can’t scream aloud until he knows exactly what’s happening.
The roots of the trees give him charitable guidance. He goes in the direction of the trees which vanished in mid-darkness. He investigates the problem because this is the only way to figure-out what happen to everyone. He partially understands the problem. He mapped out a small diagram of this area. His mind slowly pieces it together. He turns back and walks into the other direction.
He associated his mental thoughts with the evidence that he was prolonging all this time. The first tree root he touched has been scratched to splinters. The forest floor is soft. His nose has detected some chemical fluids in the air. These fluids can only come from the body of one deadly adversary.
His anticipation only leads him to disappointment because the more he feels the dirt, the longer his greatest fears authenticate. The footprints of the creature’s offspring peeve into the ground like thousands of little spikes. He has new reliable information, which he doesn’t want to be true, but it is. He can hear the creatures breathing now. One of his soldiers barely makes a mental connection with him, but the soldier does get his point across.
“Sir, get out of here. They’ll make it in your direction pretty…”
He’s cut off.
Everything dies down for just a second then there is a lot of activity in the trees’ brushes. Millions of flutters cumulate from a distance. The sounds are coming in hordes. Eloving screams aloud.
Before he could successfully make a mental map, a large proboscis discharges from the top of the trees directly into his chest. The acid melts his chest-plate. The proboscis pulls him 5ft into the air. However, he successfully unsnaps the breast-plate plummeting to the ground. He hits the solid foliage hard. Jetting to his feet, he runs into the woods toward the ocean.
He pushes toward the ocean as fast as he can. He’s shuffling a deck of cards that he doesn’t want to play. He is dealing with an insect family named the Culicidae or better known as the fly. When grown to adulthood, these creatures can grow larger than trees, but still have the ability to move super fast. While hopping over shrubbery, and staying away from dangerous obstacles, Eloving keeps his eyes tightly shut, so he can get a good image of where he needs to go next.
He makes a mental image of his troopers’ locations. Some are in trees. Others are engraved in pieces scattered throughout the forest. Those creatures have published his soldiers’ gruesome fates. The insect babies feed on their blood, sucking their bodies drop-less. One soldier was brought to the treetops. When Eloving screamed upward, he notices tiny holes puncturing every living cell in the soldier’s body, along with the bigger holes from their partially developed brothers and sisters. When the Culicidae are old enough, their mandibles shoot from their faces like swords, and the tips of them have teeth sharper than small razor blades.
A Culicidae mandible pierces through the dead soldier’s chest-plate. It sucks his heart clean of fluids.
No time to reminisce; he cuts through the forest like a lightening demon but the masses of insects are keen on his trail. His arms infest with miniature Culicidae creatures. They move in a clever system that follows a certain order as they slowly ingest his skin. In a circular pattern on his arm, they chew into his skin bursting every blood vessel in their path. Before they become humongous creatures bigger than trees, they’re born tinier than parasitic creatures. They can devour a cell a second. Batches of them will soon injure his skin to an un-repairable state.
Eloving must make it to the ocean. Hopefully, they’ll die-off if he dives into the frozen mother.
The trees closer to the ocean thin-out, the wind whines while Eloving breaks through them with a breathtaking pace. His momentum is two times of that of a locomotive-steam-engine.
Five miles away from his destination point, he sniffs the creatures’ aroma and replays their movement. It’s like running through a nightmare toppled with darkness, looking at a glass of milk in front of you then closing your eyes remembering where it is. The mind is a strange tool; we use certain concepts for different projects.
3.5 miles away from the ocean, Eloving runs through the pitch-black-darkness with his eyes shut. Images flutter through his mind.
He feels the temperature changing. The smell of the sea nears. He’s out of breath breathing in short puffs. His visualization slips from his short-term memory causing him to scream to make another mental atlas.
No one is driving the bus; his heart fails in deep contempt. Stopping because of what is in front of him, Eloving tumbles to the forest floor. The spider branches clap together as his terminal ending bristles out of proportion. Eloving lays face first in the icy dirt, a few meters away from the ocean. The baby Culicidae catches up with him. Millions of them cut into the pores of his skin with their mandibles.
Protecting his face, and covering his eyes, he visualizes the mother creature standing directly in front of him. She blocks his path to the ocean. Her long pairs of legs bend over like falling trees seeping into her bulldozer-mesothorax. The hair from her legs reaches out, which could, at the present moment, be confused for branches. Her long wings clear as glass, grip her banded abdomen unrecognizable at first glance.
Her burning respiration sings over him. He knows he is done for. The smell of the acid in her stomach is frightening. It’ll instantly melt him. No hope for him now, he falls to his annihilation.
Wait, she makes a large ferocious noise. Heat expands all around him. The forest catches on fire. The creature creates enough sound for him to make a mental image of her attacker. Lasers shoot into her abdominal. He opens his eyes. There is enough light to see. However, he shouldn’t have done that. Some of the smaller creatures attack his eyelids. If he doesn’t do something immediately, then he might lose his eye-sight. Hovering over the tree tops, an alien-space-craft glides toward the battle front. It’s a large metal ship with no sails, or a foreign spell, which has no movement and no sound. The ship protects him, but if Eloving doesn’t get the hell out of there, then there will be nothing left to protect.
He keeps his eyes close, but he can feel her babies crawling inside feeding on his eyelids. He pushes himself up, but like a swarm of bees, they coat his back with a sheet of living bugs drinking his blood.
Some of them shake off, but they retaliate, flying around to the front of his body, which is dispersed in dirt. Limping as fast as he can toward the water, his adrenaline builds; every step he takes propels him faster. However, his body aches and he hears the consistency of wings fluttering around him. The ocean is in view. He hears the water; the visualization is stunning.
The water is clean. Cause of his memory visualization capabilities, he can see meters under, by just hearing the sound of the water crashing against the bank. In the middle, a big glacier blocks the sound from things behind it. He made it inches away from the water, but his struggle isn’t over yet. Eloving still has all those bugs eating away on him. Thousands fly around him, and thousands more have successfully infested through his skin. Some of them blanket his back: It’s a sheet of skin made of creepy-crawlers. He can’t open his eyes because they ate holes through his eyelids. He doesn’t waver the moment; he runs then dives into the water.
Under The Ocean’s Floor
It’s below freezing. He dives deep as he can. The insects solidify and fall-off in patterns. They scatter away from his body. The hemoglobin in Eloving’s blood is a strange mixture, which protects him from the arctic water. The colder the temperature, the hotter his blood becomes enraged. When he opens his eyes the smaller-bugs inside gel-up then dusk into the water.
Every pore of his skin bleeds out. Tiny holes–large enough to see in the water–cover his entire body. Tons of infestations under his armpits and neck have been consumed to a bloody-pulp. He is so lucky. He almost got ate a live.
He hears voices in his head, “Sir, are you ok?”
He mentally answers back,
“I’m in really bad shape. I don’t know if I can make it, and it’s dangerous down here. I’m bleeding all over the place. The sea creatures will have their way with me if they pick up my scent. I need to be put in the healing element as soon as possible.”
“We don’t know if your body can take the magnetic-screening. We need to get you closer to the glacier before we try. We don’t want that creature to follow us.”
Strange creatures live in unaffectionate parts of Minaera. This one is probably the strangest because it attacks only the native creatures. They never show aggression toward the humans, maybe because they don’t like their taste, or because they are not animals from this world. Nevertheless, they really appreciate the flavor of the Odxithons.
Unexpectedly, the space-craft appears over the water. It accompanies his swim, floating overhead protecting him from the dangers that might be in the air.
The sea is billions of miles wide and quadrillions of miles deep. It’s so clean and untouched by waste and pollution that it resembles a mirror image of the big blue sky.
He’s fortunate that the big mountain of ice is only a few miles away, can’t really tell its distance because everything on this planet is so enormous.
He’s in a bit of trouble. His body cramps and his legs are losing thrust, and hunger consumes him. The plankton is as large as fish. He swims toward some smaller plankton. He swallows them whole. The acid in his stomach burns the larva alive.
Throwing some of them down into his gut, energy bustles through his body. Nutrition is the least of his worries. Hundreds of miles to his left, a sea creature sticks his neck from out of the water. It’s high as a skyscraper. When the creature roars, the sound echoes in every direction. Cause of the extra vibration, Eloving closes his eyes. His imagination goes to work. A creature that size can move hundreds of miles in just a few minutes; it is heading right toward him. Eloving hears voices in his head.
“Sir, we will try to stop it. Keep moving toward the glacier.”
Eloving knows he doesn’t have time to respond back; not even in his head. His hips hurt, and his skin is on fire. The extra meal has given him some more energy, but not by much, and seeing that he is in the water helps sooth some of the pain away. His adrenaline sky rockets; every meter his swim becomes sharper. The alien space craft disappears overhead.
The lady Culicidae hovers over the water. Eloving hears her wings flapping. He knows her attentions. She sees with her eyes, and senses predation with the sensitive hairs all over her body. Eloving has only one option, and that is to swim directly downward into the dangerous darkness. She knows he is still there. The scent of his blood bubbles to the top. He vanishes from her sight.
It’s dark down there. He relies on impeccable imagination. Some of the creatures in the sea can move through the water in total silence. Lucky or not lucky, he can see them because of the Culicidae noise overhead, and the big wale creature vibrating in the water from its advancement.
Nothing is dangerous in the area. The greater noise being made, the more he can visualize smaller creatures at the bottom. It’s like watching a black-and-white-motion-picture-strip building in his mind.
At the foot of the iceberg, he still has both problems: the one at his top, plus the one timbering toward his direction. The space craft couldn’t stop it. The big sea creature’s vibrations go quiet. Eloving has no choice; it’s either, get swallowed alive by a large lock nest monster, or be picked apart by a gigantic insect. He makes his choice.
Eloving scours the glacier-walls. Closer to the surface he opens his eyes. The Culicidae shoots a sliding sheath from her mouth. The proboscis goes through his back. It barely misses his heart. She pulls him into the air.
She scales him upward toward the top of the huge glacier. The other creature appears. It jumps from out of the water flying up after them. The sea creature clamps its boulder like teeth on the mother Culicidae middle torso. The creature leaps so far up, that only its tail lay sunk in the ocean. It’s half as tall as the glacier. When it hits the water, a tremendous force rocks the pillar of ice with sonic sound. The monster takes them both under.
The Mother Culicidae’s proboscis slips from out of Eloving’s back. Swimming with them to the bottom, the force of the creature’s dive takes him under. Favored by the current, he’s pushed away from a monstrous downward pull. Spilling out blood every second, Eloving has a big hole in his back, and he is lost in the dark part of the ocean. The pump of his heart puts him in a more dangerous position. Opening his eyes, he can’t use his mental ability anymore. It’s like a light in the tunnel. He swims upward, but it’s too far. He can’t make it. The dive took him miles under. The further he goes upward, the more the tunnel of light increases, but yet, the farther away his trepidation withers. The galactic cruiser appears overhead. Eloving slips into a mental-relapse. Losing his breath, his paddling legs give way. Closing his eyes, Eloving sight flickers out.
Pulling him toward the bottom, smaller fish attach themselves to his open wounds. They eat the rest of what’s left. The space-craft hovers over the glacier. For five seconds, it stays motionless. The bottom slowly opens.
A second metal layer opens. Two Odxithons drip from out of the wall like electromagnetic acid, landing in blobs on the frozen top. After the magnetic shield wears down, the Odxithons roll down the slope of the iceberg. One of them could have stopped his momentum. But yet, both are forcing their slide down the amazing drop.
Reaching the edge, they push themselves up with their tails, leaping away from the iceberg. They scream while scaling down the side of the glacier. They plunge into the freezing water. Taking deep breaths, they dive toward the prince.
They form mental images of Prince Eloving. When they try to communicate with him, they replay the last image he testified to; this means he is fighting, and he is still alive. The intricate sounds of the ocean are tranquil, obedient to the onslaught of the quiet skies. The dive is more bloodthirsty then the creatures plundering in its depths could bear witness. Darkness abates; silence abates. Creatures small and big flutter around them as they search for the final homing-beckon that has just flickered out. They keep diving toward the direction that the last signal came from.
The two Odxithons find Eloving; they grab his arms and tow him upward. They can feel him slowly falling into a death-collage whispering soft demented telepathic thoughts into the cold water’s surge.
Powering him to the surface of the water, one of the Odxithons takes a syringe he’s holding then shoots the accelerated protein into Eloving’s chest. They pull him to the glacier. About 30 seconds of hitting the abrasive current, Eloving wakes up. It’s fortunate that one of the Odxithons could speak. The other one can communicate only telepathically.
“Sir, hold on to my back. I will pull you up the glacier. Hang in there; we’re almost to your father. You did it.”
Eloving appearance is not recognizable. One of his eyelids has been eaten in half, plus tiny holes infest all over his face, arms, and body, and a big hole reaches through his stomach exiting out of his back.
Those years locked up in the dungeon made him appear smaller than the other Odxithons, also considering the fact that his tale has been chopped off. The Odxithon, with only mental capability, licks out his tongue like a lizard grabbing a plankton larva in just seconds then rolling it back into his mouth. He swallows it.
They swim back to the glacier. Hundreds of miles away the locnest monster appears. The Odxithons communicate telepathically.
“Amathon, you’re stronger than me, but the prince needs someone who can continue speaking to him. I can make the climb, but I need you to offset that beast’s pace to give me and the prince some closure time to get into the ship. I believe this glacier can’t take one more pounding from that monster.”
Amathon takes a spiky-fish swimming by then slits his arms. Eloving and General Horath maintain toward the glacier, which is now cracking in half from the immense on slate of the current.
Amathon disappears under the stampede of the rushing-waves…
“We’re counting on you. Be careful.”
Making it to their destination point, General Horath and Prince Eloving climb the glacier. General Horath speaks to Eloving.
“Sir, hold on with all your might. I need to move quickly upward, and my aggression may knock you off my shoulders. We don’t have time to do this again. Once the monster figures out that he’s not catching Horath, he will be a bit angry, and want to take the rest of his rage out on this glacier.”
General Horath closes his eyes. The sonic roar dispersing over the ocean takes flight in his imagination. He can see every crevice swelling from the side of the glacier, including the gigantic crack racing slowly up the middle. Eloving grips on to Horath’s neck.
Horath clasps onto the hard ice, pulling him-self upward. With the extra weight on his back, he resembles a man climbing the wall, but with one befuddlement. Adrenaline bucket’s down through his veins. Every move he makes; paces him further to his occurred-point.
The gigantic monster vanishes under the water. Totally confused, it appears again. Just because something can swim hundreds of miles in minutes don’t mean that everything it felt before will be in the same location. When its head pops-up, anyone could tell that it’s at a loss of direction. Horath is doing a good job implanting his blood in the water. Conversely, the monster has two choices. To continue to chase the phantom swimmer, or head toward the glacier where he can smell Prince Eloving’s wounds saturating the wind’s current. The monster makes its choice, but who knows its choice? Vanishing under the water, it dives deep.
General Horath and Eloving make it to the top of the glacier. Everything is quiet. However, the mental map in Horath’s mind tells him differently.
“This may kill you. Nevertheless, we must try. The magnetic screening will pull you upward. Your open wounds will give you excruciating pain. That monster is heading straight toward us. We only have one try, when you’re up in the ship; I will jump back in the ocean. Don’t worry about me and Horath. We are strong enough to make the 300-mile trip back home. Blink twice if you understand.”
Eloving blinks twice.
General Horath sends a telepathic message to the ship.
“Do it now!”
Eloving begins to percolate. He says in a low tone.
“You can do it sir. Think about the soldiers we lost today. How would they feel if you gave up at this point? Fight it.”
Eloving rises toward the entrance of the ship. He struggles but finally gives in. He lets the force pull him inside.
The glacier rocks violently. General Horath runs and jumps, scaling down the wall. The glacier cracks in half. Holding him in his mouth, the monster grabs General Horath in midair. Spitting him out, a piece of the glacier smacks the monster in its throat. Horath hits the water then dives under. He’s wounded but not that bad. It’s a good thing he’s wounded, because now he can continue luring the monster away from the glacier.
The Ship rises from out of the monsters reach. The monster slips from off the broken glacier back into the water. It seems to have retreated but not heartily. It’s following Horath’s bloody scent.
It’s cold inside the Galactic Ship. The metal layers are positioned quarter inches apart in a hexagon pattern. The walls, the bottom, and the top are similar to a bee hive, except the floor has a flatter service. The roof of the ship and the walls are rounded and steep enough for climbing.
A dim light comes on. Eloving is in the storage area. Dispersing a poisonous gas into the room, some of the hexagons at the top, open up in wavey-patterns. Baby Culicidae were dormant in Eloving’s wounds. The poisonous gas wakes them up. Clawing their way out of his wounds, the Culicidae swarm about. A swift jolt of air pulls the insects into a vacuum. They’re sucked into the ship’s wall. A hole opens up on the left side. An Odxithon scales down the wall breaking for Eloving. He puts his hand on Eloving’s chest then examines his body.
He searches around the room for any Culicidae that might have escaped the vacuum’s draft. The Prince’s chest meshes up-and-down. He’s still alive. The floor on the other side of the room opens up. A casing rises from out of the metal bulk-head. It’s a breathing unit. Pulling Eloving toward the iron container, the Odxithon takes the mask out of its casing. Putting it on Eloving, the mask cements to his face.
The big hexagon shape door slides open on the left again. The Odxithon exits out.
The floor raises Eloving into the air. A hole at the top opens. The panel takes him up into a glass chamber. Sleeping in other chambers, some Odxithon soldiers colonize in glass-rectangular boxes. They have breathing mask on. Their entire bodies are diffused in liquid.
Eloving’s chamber is empty. However, it begins to fill with a protein healing element. Eloving closes his eyes, falling into a deep slumber.