Nasferas: The Begotten

15

Squirts of rotten food pushed into the hoses. A vat per family member mounted upside down with makeshift power packs strapped to them, blinked to life. Davidar covered his face, backed into the hallway, and gulped air. When he exhaled, it wasn't accompanied by his stomach content. Thank the Maker.

"Can you believe our uncle built those ... to feed us?" His stomach garbled at the thought.

Aleese closed the door behind them. Rancid goop had started to dry on her palms. "If they're meant to save lives ... yes. I believe he would." She took a quick left and disappeared into the Med Room. Moments later she remerged with him, her digits spotless. The girl had never minded a bit of dirt. And had always proved she had the cleanest nails at the supper table. A daily occurrence he would miss. His thoughts dwelled on those traditions. Most of which came from the shop where he'd apprenticed since his 6th harvest. That's where he had gained his engineer's moniker.

On their way back to the Engine Room Davidar studied his hands. The lines now looked like deep crevasses carved out with a chisel. Somehow, they had kept their dark tint. Years of engine grease had stained them forever. This reminded him of his boss, Duano. Had the portly man escaped the fates? Not likely. Gnam didn't take prisoners. If someone surrendered, they got vaporized. That's how it went with the genocidal alien race.

Someone coughed.

Aleese stopped. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes. Ranloo must have released one of the others." Of course, Davidar wanted it to be his betrothed.

The two hurried inside to find Tranz had already extricated himself in every way. The nasogastric tubes flopped around as their content gushed onto the floor. A puddle of sludge accumulated around his knees.

Davidar stooped to help him stand.

Tranz stumbled back, his eyes wide. "Who ... who are you?"

Aleese undertook the explanation. She then sent him to help Ranloo with the systems. Tranz agreed and lumbered from the room.

One by one their family members woke from cryostasis. None had any idea what happened. Dram had contracted some sort of cryo-illness and dry heaved until he passed out. Alek carried him to the Med Room.

Davidar couldn't believe his eyes when Fladir lifted Ralia. Her hair had dulled, her supple cheeks had sunk and he saw a distance in her eyes he'd never seen before. She'd recovered fast and had left for the Med Room to help Dram.

Most in the room wept when he relayed the news of Uncle Moroo's passing. He implored them not to go into the Flight Room. Fladir didn't listen. His horrific, anguished cry, conveyed: anger, sadness, remorse, and pain. After a few minutes, he had returned with a severe cut on his fist and his two brothers.

Awe filled Davidar when he saw his mother for the first time. Even marred by skeletal features her inner beauty and ostensible raw ability to lead shone through.

"First we need to regroup." She paused and combed through her white hair. "Then ascertain what provisions are left. Tranz?"

"Yes, Auntie." He grimaced.

"How are the ship's systems?"

"They're working ... somewhat. I wrote a decryption program a few minutes ago. For some reason, navigations are scrambled."

"Do you think you can get the ship's logs online? Your father would have left a log file to let us know where we are and what to do next. He was very conscientious in matters of the kind."