Heartworm [WEIRD progression fantasy] (Volume 1 complete!)

"'We don't regard those Thinkers as evil. We consider human reality is mostly a matter of consensus. For example: sine several years ago, the murders in Cindarale increased sharply. Do you know why?'

'Of course, I covered that back in the day. It was a matter of the definition of murder changing to include vehicular manslaughter committed by intoxicated drivers.'

'Precisely! The same amount of people is dying—statistically speaking— but there are significantly more murders now, because of how we humans defined murder in that little stretch of space. Now, it won't be humans who define what's evil and what not in the new world.'

'it will be the robots. The automata.'

'And the meekest of Splinters will outlast the longest-living of dragons. I think their morals could resemble ours. Or they could not. They may decide our principles are not adequate for their way of life. And I think that answers your last question?'

'It wonderfully does! And, that's it for the interview. Thank you for accompanying us today in this video call, Sheila. Always a pleasure to show people that the creators of the new world are people like them and not mad scientists in white coats.'"

—Fragment of Virtual Interview with The Lottery Winner, just before Dario, wearing his lab coat, flip flopped behind his girlfriend before she could hang up.

Decked in a slick black and green armor Morbilliv awoke from his meditative slumber The metal inside him felt alien, but unowned. His retractile claws folded neatly, fitting in their grooves with utmost precision. He laughed with a voice that wasn't neither his nor Parvov's, and that made relief course through his whole being. There, sitting in the examination table, alone in the laboratory, The Fifth Conceived finally felt free, without any load to bear but that of being the ship's captain. Without a mask to wear.

As he moved around eh felt the ammunition rattle inside his bones that doubled as cannons. The ulnas were loaded, fitted with P-model-alloy pellets that would allow him to spray death once with each arm, the puggum charges ready to bee ignited whenever he gave the order. His shoulder armor hid Dobermannite blades that could be retrieved to be used as an aid to claw and fist. His stubby tail could be extended a bit, the tail end crowned with five short cannons, a deadly blossom with slugs for pollen.

His ears were like Parvov's: they could take in everything, from the distant whirrs of the Corship's legs to the soft creaks and groans of the laboratory itself, as it spun in a struggle for balance while the ship moved through the sea at different angles. The vestibular system, however, seemed to have been improved. Each step unfurled a world of variegated sensations: a crassly overdone feature, in his opinion. But perhaps he would get used to it in time.

Was it his mind, or the air that was too stagnant, too quiet? Had it been the act wearing Parvov's body that rendered him into a constant victim of anxiety?

No. It had nothing to do with his new senses or body. Silence reigned over the mind link. The constant chatter he had hitherto struggled to remain tuned out of had gone mute.

He tilted his horned head to the side: the weight of the new skull was dissimilar enough to Parvov's to make him uncomfortable. Each second that passed he realized his specifications had been mere suggestions to Doratev and Co. But that was inconsequential at the moment, for the silence suggested urgency.

Corship, is it safe to use the mind links? He asked coarsely, unsure about how he would deal with a menace capable of shutting up the minds of the crew as a whole.

No, Lyssav migraines if we do. She is in Corship's colon's end.

That put him at ease for a moment, if only because he decided to ignore the fact the ship had called his cargo bay an anus. But then he accelerated down the hall, tripping more than once due to being unused to his new legs. Why had she returned? And why did her core ache? No, not ache… it bothered her. Pain was not a negative for Lyssav: the more her form hurt, the better she felt. And no matter how long he had known her for, shifting gears to embrace her way of thinking, to have a sliver of true empathy for her, was something Morbilliv wouldn't ever get used to.

He climbed his way down the spiral stairs, traipsing halfway through, hitting the wall on his fall, and cursing as he got back into his feet. Hiss. Not anybody else's. The clumsiness would need addressing soon, but he couldn't deny the emptiness of spirit filled him with a warm melancholy, an addicting mixture of relief and freedom. Parvov was gone. No more did his eyes watch his steps, no more did his voicebox speak aloud his thoughts. The ghosts of the captain had been exorcised from his life, and part of him remained flooded with guilt because of it. But the guilt was old friend of his, and preferable to the constant pressure. Welcome, even.

"I have gotten a new body to defend your crew, Par. Our sisters are here with us, and your Ship is now a little brother to us all. Yours, too, even if you never got to meet him. You would have loved the Corship. I know, because I do, and I think Lyssav does too. Asking Babesi is not necessary…" He mumbled as he approached the Cargo Bay, the chatter of the crew washing over him. The silence in the mental plane had been compensated by an absolute madness of shouting and laughing and whistling and emoting out loud. A wall of sound, what a beautiful concept that seemed to him.

Sound that Lyssav didn't mind.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He entered the room and either whole heads or just sets of eyes turned to look at him. Doratev stepped away from the crowd and stood before him, his three hands joined behind his back, hidden by his coat of metal flakes. "Well? How does your body feel, captain?"

"I'd like to know meaning of this gathering first. What's happening to my sister?"

"She fought against Dirofil." He said, revealing the disarticulated right arm of Dirofil, holding the upper and lower arm in his different left hands, a half-burnt Eye of the Reaper staring at Morbilliv from its throne of carpals. "And won."

Morbilliv immediately reached for the arm and infused a bit of his soul into it. "I can feel she spared him. Did she just rip his eye out? No, don't answer, I want to hear if from her."

"I am afraid she destroyed her own ears to have peace. Her eyes, too. She's not meditating, and the only one she allows to touch her is Babesi."

"Fine." He rattled the armor of his chest to garner the attention of the few splinters that weren't staring at him. "Every Splinter, go back to your tasks, and if you were assigned no tasks by Babesi to your chambers, and if you are new and no chambers have been assigned to you, to the bridge, refining room, or anywhere else you feel safe in. This is a family matter now."

"Me too, sir?" Asked Doratev in a servile, almost mocking tone.

"It's your choice."

"I am not going anywhere, either," protested Seloma, pushing her way out the crowd.

"Laboratory crew can stay to inform me about my new body. Everyone else, clear the area."

A Splinter of his took some shy steps towards the captain and his new body. "Yes, miners too. Me, Lyssav, Babesi, Doratev and Seloma will stay here. No one else. Understood?"

"No." Babesi finally turned towards him and popper her head over the crowd. "What did you say?"

"The only instructions important for you, dear sister, is that you should, carefully and in chronological order, relay to me what Lyssav has told you since she arrived. Can you do that?" Morbilliv explained as Splinters of everyone but Lyssav flowed by his side, some with a proud and obedient step, others dejected and glaring at him, but none loaded with hesitation.

That was when he finally beheld Lyssav in her sorry state. She lay upon the floor with no grace left to be spoken of. Her body melted into the lattice, her chipped teeth slacked into two dead jaws. Parts of her spine had outright disappeared, as did most of the bones of her legs and tail. Her eyes, ears and patagia were gone, and her core had stopped shedding light: it had turned to a blood colored lump of seemingly inanimate crystals.

"Dirofil did this?" He said, sitting next to Babesi, in front of the unmoving second.

"He sic the Reaper against sissy," Babesi answered with a whiny, pained tone. "Rendered her wet before doing so."

Morbilliv needed a second to picture the scene in his mind. "That… explains the damage. Poor Lyssav must have been pushed to her wit's end. It's a miracle she found the clarity of mind to spare the idiot."

Doratev proceeded to sit between the conscious siblings. "Not an idiot. My blueprint is a zealot. He miscalculated, but I have no doubts he intended to render her thoughtless. The only idiot here is her, that spared him."

Morbilliv slapped the back of the head of the Doctor, sending one of his eyes bouncing and rolling all over the lattice of the floor until it settled into one of the circular holes of said structure. "It's our brother you are talking about!"

"And that means both of you know better than I that in his order of priorities his twisted dream is at the top, and all of us are far, far below."

"A plea from Shadiran could stop him." Seloma added while she paced around the room, inspecting the cages and scooping up any remainders of hair inside them. "If we could get to the other side of the sea and get her to cooperate, we could all live in harmony under Lyssav's rule."

"Reuniting them prematurely would make the world be a whim away from ending at all times. We would never know peace of mind. Seloma, you are brilliant, but you are too much of an optimist." Doratev criticized his ex-lover. "Besides, we don't know how deep Corship could currently travel, or if most of us would survive that trip."

As they debated Lyssav basked in absolute darkness and silence. She was at ease with her thoughts. Her mind, the Original, conscious; all the remnants of her prey being used as engines, generating thought energy to fuel the healing of her heart and body. The psycholocating waves of her shipling made her soul shiver, but she deemed them a necessary evil to preserve the lives of the Splinters.

Lyssav. Morbilliv's mind rattled against hers, an unwelcome interference. Lyssav!

Cease.

Cease? Morbilliv's thoughts were accompanied by a spate of fury. I remind you that I Inherited this ship, and the responsibility over the lives of every last crew member. Yours and Dirofil's included.

I must commend you, for you did a very good job preserving those Splinters of mine. She remarked, spiteful and annoyed.

This is not the moment nor the place to be a bitch, sister!

That's a surprisingly context-insensitive comment on your part, brother. Would you be a darling and remind me what half of this sea is made of?

Morbilliv groaned, and Lyssav didn't heart the groan, but she imagined he would emit one, or some similar sound, and this pleased her deeply. And Morbilliv knew she was trying to get a reaction out of him, because even weakened and injured Lyssav wouldn't stop being a walking eidolon of torture, both of the horrid and the petty kind.

Tell me where you left Dirofil stranded so we can go and fetch him.

He got me wet. I spared our brother. That's mercy enough for an high-time traitor like himself. Undeserved amounts of. I am not telling you shit, Morbilliv.

And I genuinely commend that mercy, Sister. If not for your dream, in honor of Parvov's memory, please, tell me where to find him. If you want him to remain an exile from the ship—

I think I thought it loud and clear: Not. Telling. You. Shit. If he survives, he survives. If he dies, we are better off. And while it would content a little part of me to see him return alive after learning his lesson, I don't think he can learn if you help him. He's welcome to live under my rule If, and only if, he survives.

I could strike you down where you lie!

Oh, I am always up for a little massage. The slightly malicious, teasing tone had returned to her thoughts.

"Creators be damned, it's a gigantic sea. We are never going to find Dirofil if she doesn't cooperate." He stood and began pacing around. "If he had his body we could lure him in, maybe, with promises of crossing whatever barriers he found in the sea. But he's a naked core. Unless he finds a Splinter's cadaver he's…"

"He's going to use doggies!" Babesi wrongly completed her brother's sentence.

"I don't think he can… a whole body?" Morbilliv tilted his head, four eyes wide with realization. "You, Shadiran's Splinter, you can do the same thing as he can. Could you replace your whole body with dog parts?"

"It would take amounts of energy my core would struggle to spare."

"Chump change for the flawless core of Dirofil," Doratev added, one hand on each pocket of his coat. "So, considering that possibility. the pressing question is… which dog breed do you all think could be turned into a popcorn equivalent?"

Nobody laughed at Doratev's joke. But what else could he expect: they weren't intellects of his caliber and refinement.