Chapter 1: JACK's Journal

I Killed a Plant Once Because I Gave It Too Much Water: or, the Tragic Fate of the Halceon-V

Chapter 1

An excerpt from the journal belonging to codename: JACK written during his deployment on the Halceon-V:

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I never should’ve ended up in the space station at the edge of the Galaia sector. I had just finished at the academy and already had assignment lined up months before that. Typically, there was a bit of a waiting period after graduation and deployment – some called this “spring break”, others called it a “gap year”, neither of which meant anything to me, but apparently they were names for student traditions back on Earth – but I was deployed immediately. The higher-ups would have me believe that this was because of my remarkable aptitude shown in my training. I could pilot, copilot, navigate, and man the guns, all with almost equal expertise, and even switch between positions mid-mission. Once during a training mission, my copilot fell unconscious (due to an unfortunate combination of relaxing drugs and borderline toxic energy supplements) and I had to pilot our ship by myself. Not only did I get the crew and ship back in one piece, but we still completed the mission to a passable degree. I was no prodigy, mind you. I worked my ass off since before I can even remember to get to where I am now. It’s my duty to protect Earth at all costs. That’s the reason I’m alive; the reason I was even born. If I can’t make myself useful here, why should I even live at all?

All this to say that I was an extremely successful (not gifted) fighter. My designation was FLEX, meaning, naturally, that I had authorization to be given any position in a ship at a moment’s notice. Still, I was told I would most likely end up falling into one position once I reached my squadron, since there was little reason to constantly shake things up outside of dire emergencies. I was given the codename JACK, after an old proverb from Earth, I’m told.

“Jack of all trades, master of none, still much better than a master of one.”

I don’t know if this is the complete proverb, but at the very least it is the only portion that has made it this far from the planet. The academy I grew up in was one of the furthest. This codename was highly unusual, since most soldiers who were given codenames rather than code numbers were given one that fell into the classification of Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral, each one designating a different function in the corps. Animal was for pilots, flyers, and foot soldiers, Vegetable for medics, and Mineral for mechanics and strategy. I was told the codename JACK, seeing as it was a human name, still technically fit into the designation of Animal. They probably would have given it to me either way. My academy was notorious for giving codenames and numbers based on personality or inside jokes rather than more or less at random.

I think most people pitied me for being deployed so quickly. It was, essentially, a death sentence, after all. Humanity had no hope of winning this war, even with the alien allies we’ve acquired along the way, but our enemies didn’t either. We were locked in a seemingly eternal stalemate until one of us could discover some new technological advancement that would forever change the course of history. They always say we’d need some kind of once-in-a-lifetime discovery, but I think they underestimated how many lifetimes it would take. All that to say, whether I die tomorrow or in 100 years, I will die out here in space, neither winning nor losing, simply fighting to protect innocent lives. So maybe most people pitied me for losing out on the waiting period between my graduation and deployment, missing the chance to have “fun” and “live” before my life was effectively over, but really, I don’t think most people thought of me at all.

I never had friends growing up in the academy, and I didn’t plan on making any. When I was sent in for medical eval during puberty like everyone else, they couldn’t identify that anything was “wrong” with me, exactly, I was just a little weird. Funny way of putting it, if you ask me. There’s something about me that people are instinctively turned away from. They don’t hate me, but they don’t terribly like me, either. My likeability is intrinsically linked to my value; the better I perform, the better I am liked, the worse I perform, the more I am despised. Yes, I got all the congratulations and pats on the back from my peers just as much as my supervisors when I did something extraordinary or lifesaving for my team, but where did that affection disappear in the mess hall? During free time? On holidays? I wasn’t liked as a person, I was liked as a list of accomplishments and accolades, but maybe it was better that way. Maybe this is what pushed me to be so great. If I didn’t have to work so hard to get people to like me, maybe I wouldn’t have worked so hard. For my sake, for the academy’s sake, for humanity’s sake, it was better that I was alone. So, good for humanity, then, because I am always alone.

I was assigned to a major station that served as home base for the front lines in the Orion sector. Two days after graduation, I was loaded up into a transport ship with almost the rest of the graduates from last year who hadn’t been deployed yet, as well as a few from two, and even three years ago. I heard there was a cadet who had graduated seven years ago who was supposed to be on our transport, but everyone I eavesdropped on talking about it seemed to think something would happen and he wouldn’t be able to make it for one reason or another. Sure enough, he never showed, and we left.

Our journey was supposed to take roughly two weeks, but I only lasted four days. Halceon-V, an isolated outpost in the fringe sector of Galaia put out a request for the urgent replacement of one of their ship’s gunmen who was killed in combat. My transport was the closest thing to the Galaia sector for days, though none of us could be deemed immediately qualified for deployment on the Halceon-V. After conveying this information, the priority level was upgraded from “urgent” to “immediate.” While the deceased soldier was a gunman, his designation was FLEX, and so the all-seeing and all-knowing algorithms decided that I was the closest, most qualified, matching soldier to be sent temporarily to the Halceon-V until a proper replacement could be identified and then deliberated on and approved by human supervision. Without serious cause, a direct order from the Central Computer couldn’t even be debated, let alone rejected, and so I was awoken from my sleep immediately and loaded into an emergency deployment pod with a course set for the Halceon-V. I doubt anyone missed me when they woke up, but I do wonder if they took the time to realize I was gone. Maybe an announcement was made the next morning. Maybe just one of my peers thought to themselves, upon hearing of my special assignment, “Good for him,” before forgetting my existence altogether for the rest of their life.

Is that enough backstory? Are you sufficiently bored yet? I apologize if you are. I simply don’t get very many opportunities to tell others about myself. I’m sorry if I’m not terribly interesting. It’s not my fault, I don’t think. I really do try to be. But I’m not. Or, maybe the problem was always that I didn’t find myself interesting. Would you rather listen to a dull story told by an entertaining and exciting orator, or an exciting story told by the most lifeless voice you can imagine? If you skipped everything before this, I don’t blame you. If you don’t care about my life, that’s fine. Nobody else does, anyway. It’s like I said before, it’s better than I’m alone. I like it that way.

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“How was the flight?” she asked, perhaps in a joking way, considering I think I probably looked like shit. The flight from my transport to the Halceon-V was roughly 31 hours; conveniently close, all things considered. The emergency pod wasn’t necessarily cramped, but there also wasn’t any shower or mirror or any way to freshen up, which was more or less the same back on the transport ship as well.

“Let’s get you to a shower,” she continued immediately, gesturing for me to follow her as she began walking away from the dock.

“You’re JACK, correct? Good name, human-boy. The codename’s KOALA, but my friends call me Kayla. Sounds more human, right? We all have nicknames over here.” I wasn’t at all surprised to hear this, but I had never experienced it before. Nicknames… Growing up I was given a serial number, just like everyone else born on the space station, and any Earthborns are given a number when the come up to the academy. The year before you graduate, you’re given either a codename or number, depending on where you place. Nicknames, however, are generally frowned upon, and occasionally forbidden in some places. In a station as small and isolated as the Halceon-V, I imagine they’re able to get away with a lot more.

“YOU, however, may call my “Captain,” the Captain followed, turning to look directly at me as she said it. She wasn’t stern when she said it, but she still definitely meant it. She just had a likeable and bubbly demeanor. I wondered if this was typical for a small fringe station, and would soon realize it was not.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, stations like this are typically covert, either designed to host special-ops intel missions, or to serve as a warning and defense system for areas away from the main lines and thus generally less defended. All nine Halceon stations operate under both purposes.” I didn’t know any of this, but I appreciated that she didn’t assume I knew nothing as she continued to explain just about everything anyway. “We just dealt with a moderate enemy attack three days ago, the result of which is why you’re here, naturally, so I don’t expect we’ll see any action for another several weeks, maybe months. We also won’t be deployed for any missions until full-time replacement shows up. You’re only here as emergency backup in case anything happens before then. So, looks like you’re in for a nice little vacation, Jack!” The way she said my name… It sounded more like a name than a code. I’m not sure I liked it. I’m not sure I didn’t.

Presently, we reached the showers. The facilities were far nicer here than I’d ever seen before, or expected to see. The water was hot. The soap was new. The towels were fluffy and soft. I was probably in there for far too long, as if I needed the time to wash away 18 years of dirt and dust and filth that went all the way down to my bones, maybe deeper. I felt cleaner than I’d ever felt in my entire life.

When I got out of the shower, my old clothes had vanished, replaced with the uniform of the special-ops squad aboard the Halceon-V. I regarded them with great reverence as I put them on. It didn’t really hit me how great of an honor it was to be here until I put on these clothes, a symbol of the status I was temporarily welcomed into. They were sleek, comfortable, crisp, and clean; all black with gold accents, as opposed to the dull gray with faded blue I came in with.

There was a mirror in the bathroom as well, naturally. Heated, it seems, as it didn’t fog up. I didn’t even know that was possible, but now that I did, it seemed so obvious. I hadn’t looked at my own face in months. You brush your hair and floss your teeth and tie your tie the exact same way for long enough you don’t really need to see it to check your work. I always hated looking at my own face. It was too similar to everyone else’s. It held the same look of indifference in its eyes when it stared back at me just like when anyone else did. Today was no different. My reflection stared at me without affection or contempt. There was no feeling whatsoever. It was like I was staring at a stranger. He really seemed to like my uniform, though; couldn’t stop staring at it. I must’ve looked nice.

When I exited the bathroom, I was shocked and embarrassed to find the Captain outside waiting for me.

“Were you waiting for me this whole time?” I asked. She smiled and chuckled at me.

“Yeah. Took you long enough! But don’t get me wrong…” she took a big whiff of the air around me. “It was definitely worth it. Let’s go!” Once again, she led me away through the little station she called home.

“How’s the suit fit by the way?” she asked, not waiting for a response. “I had to guesstimate your size, but we’re pretty similar, right?” She suddenly turned around and looked me directly in the eyes, stopping me. She was right; our eyes were nearly perfectly level, and my build was strikingly similar to hers. I must’ve turned a little red, because she quickly followed with, “That’s a good thing, you know. Small, petite, inconspicuous, all desirable traits out here.” She turned and began leading me again. “There’s a reason they don’t force so much physical training at the academy. It’s not necessary. Sure, you don’t want to be a twig or a pillow, but you also don’t need to be a body builder to fly a jet. You eat less food, take up less space, get in and out of the ships easier. I’ll bet that that pod you were in was nice and roomy too, huh?” What she said resonated with me, but perhaps not in the way she expected. Eat less food, take up less space… be as inconvenient to others as possible. These had all been core to my internal philosophy forever. Being as small and out of the way as possible without drawing attention was the ideal. Perhaps this did come into question when she pointed it out initially, and if so, maybe only because some small part of me knows I shouldn’t want this, really. But that small part of me doesn’t see what I see, experience what I do, in the same way.

Eventually we arrived in the dining hall. It didn’t appear to be mealtime but the crew was present, so I assume they were called here for me to be introduced. There were only two tables in the whole room which seemed entirely too big for the crew aboard the station. They all sat at one table, six members total, three men and three women, separated by gender on either side of the table. They were all visibly older than me, and certainly more experience and skill than I had, and yet, we were all wearing the same uniform. That fact alone made me less nervous than I probably should have been. And yet, when we got closer and I saw all their dark, stormy faces, any confidence I thought I had immediately dissipated.

“Team, I’d like you all to meet our temporary crew member, codename JACK, but I’m sure he’ll be fine with you all calling him Jack.” The Captain slapped my back as she introduced me, further throwing me off guard. And again, there was that difference in the codename and the nickname. I’m not sure how she did that…

I weakly raised my hand in greeting to my new, temporary, interim, not permanent team, and gave a half smile. Their scowling faces could have seemed any less excited to see me. Still at the same time, this scorn was exciting. It was new and fresh. I felt really seen, even if negatively.

“Jack, this is the OCELOT, the MONGOOSE, the PYTHON, 777, the ANT, and the ORCA,” the Captain said as she pointed to each of the crew in order. My eyes widened at the naming of 777. I never would’ve expected to see a code number out here in such an important and revered post, and yet, here she was.

“But you can call them Oscar, Manny, Thom, Sevens, Antonia, and Ora.” Again, she pointed to the crew in the same order as she announced their nicknames. She turned to me to add, “If it happens to come down to it, you’ll be the gunman for the boys’ ship.” I had never heard of squadrons separating by gender before, and I wondered if it was a coincidence or intentional.

“I’ll introduce you to the MANTIS at some point, but she apparently decided not to show up presently,” the Captain continued, showing the first hint of negative emotion I’d seen from her. This news confused me, however.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “That would make nine of us total, correct? Is there anyone else aboard the Halceon?”

“No,” the Captain replied with an “of course you didn’t know” kind of smile. “It’s nine of us. The four boys in one ship, the four girls in another, and the MANTIS on her own.”

“Really?” I asked, my eyes widening. A solo pilot was not unheard of, but insanely rare. There was little use for them in most cases, and the solo ships were far more dangerous for the pilot than the standard ones, and rarely as effective. Just to even realize that I was in the same station as a solo pilot was perhaps the most exciting feeling I’d ever experienced.

“You haven’t heard of the rumors of the PRAYING MANTIS?” Oscar, the closest to me, asked in a low, disbelieving voice. A look of realization washed over my face. PRAYING MANTIS was a very different thing than just MANTIS. Had I heard rumors of her; a pilot so skilled she took out an entire enemy fleet on her own before her team could even arrive at the scene; a pilot who was so reckless, dangerous, and even abusive to her crew that she was essentially banished to being a solo pilot; a pilot who was sent away on assignment to one of the most remote stations in the fleet to keep her away from as many people as possible?

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard a story or two,” I replied. Yes, a story or two indeed…

“Well, you all go ahead and get to know each other,” the Captain suddenly switched topics. “I’ll go finish getting Jack’s room ready, and when I come back you can all go back to sulking if you must.” With that, I was left alone with the other six members of my team, still no warmer than they were before.

“Well, pull up a seat,” ordered Oscar, unenthusiastically. I did so, and I sat at the end of the table. We all sat like that for a very long and terribly awkward silence. I couldn’t tell if they were waiting for me to say something, or they just really didn’t want to talk to me at all. It was probably a bit of both.

“Well I—” I began, before being immediately cut off by Sevens, the furthest from me on the girls’ side.

“So you want to hear more about the MANTIS or what?” she asked.

“Oh yes please!” I replied, much more interested in talking about her than about “how do you all like it here,” or whatever I was about to ask.

“Stay away,” said Thom, quickly. “She’s bad news. Brilliant pilot, devil of a person. She’ll eat you alive.” The rest of the table seemed to silently agree with this statement.

“Are all of the rumors about her true?” I asked.

“Depends on what you’ve heard, I suppose,” Thom replied.

“She’s a phenomenal pilot, but probably not as superhuman as you may have heard,” Ora added. “As for whether or not she’s a killer…” Ora got very close to me to finish with, “One-hundred percent.” I gulped at this revelation.

“A killer, like, on the battlefield, or…” I began, letting my question trail off so I didn’t have to say it out loud.

“A “killer” like a cold-blooded, psychotic murderer,” Manny answered sternly. “She killed your predecessor, gunman.” My eyes widened as I looked around the table for confirmation of this claim. The consensus seemed mixed.

“She may have…” Antonia corrected, hesitantly. It seemed she wanted proof that the MANTIS was as terrible as they already thought she was, but really hoped it wasn’t true after all. “Our teammate, the boys’ gunman, Algernon, the ALLIGATOR, made the rash and foolish decision – not to speak ill of the dead – to deploy his solo gunship from the main body to follow the remaining retreating enemy ships which were fleeing from our little skirmish three days ago. He traveled an absurd length to chase them down, and apparently eventually took them down. However, on his way back, he was ambushed by a passing field of comets and crashed onto some tiny, uncharted rock. The MANTIS was deployed to rescue him and bring him back. We remained in contact with Algernon intermittently up until the moment the MANTIS made contact with him. When she returned, he was dead, and claimed he was dead when she found him.”

“Which is obviously a fucking lie,” Manny added, emotion building from hearing the events retold. “She killed him. Why? Who knows. But she did. There is no “maybe,” there is no “allegedly…” She killed him. Simple as that.”

“Well, not ‘simple as that,’” Sevens corrected, “because we have no proof. Which doesn’t mean she didn’t do it, of course, only that we can’t do anything about it.” She turned to me now. “You see this station? Pretty nice, right? Are you at all curious why it’s so empty? It’s because of the MANTIS. Because of her, we can act as a complete line of defense and deploy missions from this station with only nine people and three ships. That’s unheard of. With the amount of manpower and recourses they’re saving on this place, who cares if she maaaaybe murders a guy or two! No big deal, right? The higherups are more than happy to turn a blind eye as long as they possibly fucking can, and then even maybe a bit longer. Just as long as it stays convenient for them. That’s why she’s here at all instead of rotting in a military prison somewhere. She’s killed before – who knows how many times – and she will kill again.”

“Like I said,” Thom added dejectedly, “Stay away. Seriously.”

“That’s what you get with a fucking half-blood,” Manny grumbled under his breath, prompting Oscar to hit him startlingly hard. The rest of the table hushed in shock, at the words, not the slap, it seemed, though it was all so fast. We stayed in complete silence for several moments as they all, to some degree, looked around to check if we were being listened to. It seemed the coast was clear. Gradually, they noticed my confusion and looked uncomfortably at each other, as if silently debating who would spill the secret.

“Allegedly,” Ora began, leaning in close and whispering to me once again, “according to some vague, completely unfounded, slanderous rumors, the MANTIS might not be entirely… human, exactly.” It was clear from the tone in her voice that this was far less supposed than it was the absolute truth. “But if you even suggest to her that I might have told you this, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Alright, I’m back!” the Captain announced, breaking the fierce tension as she reentered the room. “We’re all getting along swimmingly now, I trust. I’ll show Jack here to his room and I’ll see the rest of you at dinner.” The other six immediately left the table and dispersed as quickly as possible. I then stood up myself and the Captain led the way to my room.

“So… the MANTIS…” I began as we walked.

“I don’t know what they told you but I assure you, you have nothing to worry about,” the Captain answered before I could even ask a question. “The MANTIS won’t harm you. You’ll be perfectly safe inside the Halceon-V for the duration of your stay.”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing,” she cut me off. “I mean what I said and that is that. We will not discuss the MANTIS anymore. That’s an order.” I didn’t say anything after that.

When we arrived at the room I’d be staying in, I was perhaps a bit too noticeably pleased. I’m sure it wasn’t anything grand – especially with the way the Captain giggled at my awe – but it was certainly much nicer than any room I’d ever stayed in. She told me dinner would be at 1800 hours, but if I was hungry in the meantime, only because of the journey I just had to get here, I was welcome to go and make a snack if I was so inclined. Then I was left to settle in.

I really wasn’t terribly hungry. The food I had in the emergency pod certainly wasn’t any good, but there was plenty of it. Really, I was just tired. It was hard to get good sleep in there. I decided I might as well take a nap. Some cadets back at the academy would talk about their dreams to travel and explore the universe, or to try new and exciting food, or to read more books, or to fall in love and have intercourse, but I never thought much about any of these things. I was always more or less satisfied with my position in life. Being dissatisfied wouldn’t do me any good, anyway. But the one thing – the one thing – that I ever really wished for that I never thought I would ever get, was just a little more time to sleep. This isn’t saying much, but the bed in my room was the softest piece of furniture I had ever touched. I smiled as I fell down onto it. I’ve floated in zero gravity situations before, but this felt more like floating than that ever did. I was about to have the best sleep of my life.

And I did. I considered setting an alarm for dinner, but I decided against it. Instead, I decided to continue to sleep. Oh, how I slept. When I woke up I felt more awake and well rested than I ever even imagined it was possible to feel. The only problem was that I was 0200 hours now, and there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to fall back asleep. However, I was told I was allowed to grab a snack if I was hungry, after all…

I stepped out into the hall to find it strikingly dark and quiet. At most other, busier stations, where the soldiers sleep in shifts so diluted and scattered that the concepts of “day” and “night” have fully vanished, the lights remain constant all the time. Always bright, always shining, always keeping everything perfectly visible. However, some places like the Academy – and the Halceon-V, apparently – subscribed to an “Earth daylight” system. During the “day”, the lights were bright and mimicked the sun as much as possible. At “night”, the lights we’re dimmed, more scattered, and more artificially blue, meant to resemble a building in the dark as opposed to moonlight. This was common in stations where most people slept on the same schedule, or places with a curfew, like the Academy. I wasn’t expecting to see this here, but it was nice. It felt like home. I mean, the Academy, that is.

It was actually… fun, kinda. It felt like I was sneaking out, doing something I wasn’t supposed to, but without any of the consequences. I’d heard of cadets doing stuff like this all the time; sneaking out past curfew, or other shenanigans. I never got in on any of those, however, primarily because I was never invited to join in, and secondarily because I didn’t want to attract any negative attention from my supervisors. It was probably good I was never included. If I agreed, I’d risk getting in trouble, but if I declined, I’d be seen as a goody-two-shoes. Neither option was ideal. Once again, it was better to be ignored. It was better to be alone.

I could’ve sworn the dining hall was simple enough to get to from my room, but I hadn’t really paid so much attention earlier. I got mildly lost. My stomach started to growl. The low light started to make me anxious. I would’ve turned around, but I this point I thought it would probably be just as much of a chore to find my room again, since, once again, I hadn’t been paying attention.

“Hiya~” a voice sang, seemingly directly behind me. I jumped and made an inhuman sound, probably completely embarrassing myself as I whipped around to see the MANTIS. At least, I assumed it was the MANTIS at the time only because I hadn’t met her before. Who else would it be?

“So you’re Ali’s replacement, hm?” she observed, seemingly ignoring the fool I’d just made of myself. She spoke at a normal speaking volume, which felt wrong, somehow; as if she was disturbing the peace of the night which, quite clearly, didn’t actually exist here.

She leered at me, looming over me curiously, like schoolboys who’d found a bug they’d never seen before in the playground. I was shocked to see how young she was, likely not any more than five years older than me. How had she done so much in such little time? Or, had she been fighting long ago, even as a child?

She was beautiful, of course, even as she seemed to be trying to intimidate me. I couldn’t help but notice that every time I saw her, no matter how angry or violent she got later on. Still, when I’m not near her, I can’t say she was objectively so much superior to other pretty girls, but every time I see her face to face, I can hardly help but stare. It’s as if she has her own orbit that you couldn’t help but be pulled into if you got too close. And right now, I was way too close.

“A bit small, aren’t you?” she asked, looking down at me, and then all round my body like she was trying to evaluate it. She had long, platinum hair, icy blue eyes, and a white uniform as opposed to black, with blue and gold accents. Recalling this event, I never learned why she was in uniform in the halls at night. I certainly wasn’t so presentable.

“Well, I’m not really his replacement, exactly,” I answered in a loud, whispery tone. “I’m just here temporarily. I’m here to fill in the gap in the squad until a suitable replacement is found.” She instantly became far less interested in me upon hearing this information. She stood up tall and crossed her arms disapprovingly. As beautiful as she was, there was also something… off. Maybe her teeth were a bit too sharp, maybe her skin was a little too pink, maybe her breath was a little too cold. I’m really not certain. I wouldn’t have said humans had a vibe or an aura before then, but I suppose they must because, whatever it is, she certainly didn’t have it. Or, rather, she had something else entirely.

“I’m sorry, I assumed you knew that,” I added, after her silence went on a bit longer than I was comfortable with.

“So you’re worthless, then.”

My heart sank. Worthless? Without thinking, I tried to stand up for myself.

“Compared to you, perhaps, but I was at the top of my class back—”

“Where are you stationed?” she interrupted, becoming mildly curious again, but with an air of teasing as well, as she uncrossed her arms.

“I was on my way to my first deployment,” I said, standing up taller and prouder, not for myself but for my station. “I have been assigned to the front lines of the Orion Sector, a station—”

Again, she interrupted me, this time with cruel, jovial laughter. Night or not, this was far too loud. I wondered if anyone would wake up and find us. Maybe they’d save me from this conversation.

“The front lines?!” she crowed. “You really are worthless after all! The front lines are where they send little bugs like you to get brutally slaughtered and keep the enemy occupied long enough for the important people to actually do something. That’s why I’m here, and alive. Because I’m the best.”

“I thought it was because you were a liability,” I muttered, barely audibly, as if my vocal chords knew better than my brain that this was an incredibly foolish thing to say. Her playful demeanor vanished in an instant and she scowled at me so darkly I swear I made the light above me flicker.

“If you have something to say, human-boy, speak up.”

Human-boy… most likely in reference to my code name, but, more interestingly, the same thing the Captain referred to me as when she returned to the dining hall to bring me to my room. I wondered if she went to talk to the MANTIS during that time…

I gulped before I responded, saying, “It’s nothing, I’m sorry.” Her scowl didn’t fade in the slightest.

“Do you know why they call me the Praying Mantis?” she asked. Before I could reply, she added, “And no, it’s not my code name.” She correctly guessed that would be my guess. I shook my head in reply.

“Speak when you’re talking to me,” she ordered, sternly.

“No, I do not,” I quickly answered.

“Are you familiar with the insect at all?”

“I… I think I’ve seen a picture of one before, but I couldn’t tell you about one, no.”

“Well,” she began, with a sickeningly amused smile as she condescendingly bent lower to look me in the eyes. “When two praying mantises mate, after they have sex, the female devours the male’s head.” She got incredibly close to me as she breathed these last words. Our noses were practically touching. She backed up once more as she continued, “Scientists were never really sure why they did this, even back when humans cared about researching inconsequential bullshit like that. They speculated, though, that one reason might be that it increased the chance of the male’s sperm fertilizing the female’s eggs. The act of cannibalizing her mate distracts the female, and incapacitates the male, allowing the sexual act to be prolonged. The male can actually continue fucking even after his head has been torn from his body and devoured! Isn’t that fascinating?” She giggled a little as she said this, and her eyes seemed to change color, turning from their original icy blue to a glassy silver. She looked at me and spoke with such a childlike fascination and wonder at the gruesome fate of the male mantis.

“That’s just speculation, however,” she continued, standing up straight again and growing more dramatic. “The other leading theory was that the female is simply… hungry. She gets so hungry during intercourse that she simply must consume something to satisfy her needs, immediately. But, why bother going to search for food when there is a perfectly scrumptious, delectable meal directly in front her?!” Her eyes definitely changed colors now, becoming a vibrant, shimmering gold, as she once again got incredibly close to me. This time, purely out of instinct, I backed up slightly, but she followed me. I kept moving until I was up against a wall. She placed a hand forcefully on the wall beside my head and stared down with a hungry grin. “The female is the important one,” she continued in a taunting whisper. “She’s the one with the eggs. She’s the one who will bring the next generation into the world. What is he? Worthless. No more useful than a piece of meat, good for a quick fuck and a light snack, then to be discarded like the worthless corpse he is after what little value he had is sucked dry.” She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself as I stood petrified against the wall, debating whether I should try to run or scream or do anything at all, if I even could. She brought her free hand up and gently brushed my cheek.

“So, what do you think, human-boy?” she cooed. “Maybe you’re a mantis just like me after all…” I swallowed hard as I practically shook in fear. She was enjoying every moment of this display of power and control… until she wasn’t. Her face suddenly soured as she correctly guessed she had given me slightly the wrong impression.

“I’m not actually a mantis, you know? It’s just a nickname. A metaphor, really.” She said this as if it was the most annoying thing that she even had to explain this right now. “I’m not going to eat your head. I don’t eat people.” Upon seeing me relax just slightly, she smiled again, the shine in her eyes lighting up once again as she continued, “I consume them.” With the speed of a viper, she launched her free hand at my neck, pinning me against the wall choking me, but not fatally.

“I’m not interested in your flesh… I want all of you,” she explained, her devious grin vanishing and being replaced with a burning, fiery hatred. Her nostrils flared. Her face quivered slightly with rage. She looked at me now like it was an inconvenience to kill me, and the only value I could have had would’ve been to have killed myself long ago. I did finally move to struggle and squirm as I gagged and choked, but it was of absolutely no use. She chuckled joylessly at my attempts to escape.

“You are less than nothing,” she spat. “You’re worth less than worthless. Why should I let you live? What purpose could you possibly have?”

“Maybe… I am… worthless…” I muttered, struggling to breathe.

“Maybe? MAYBE?! You are!!” she loudly interrupted, pressing just a little harder against my throat. She almost sounded like she felt bad that I didn’t realize that by now.

“I am worthless!” I gasped in agreement. “But— that doesn’t mean— you have to— kill me—”

“Of course it does,” she said, matter-of-factly. “You’ll die in your first battle. Maybe not physically, but your spirit will be crushed, and then you’ll truly have nothing. You’re going to die, and it would be such a waste to give yourself to the war, right? How pathetic! You’d be so much more useful giving yourself to me…” She gave me a strange look then, one that I can’t quite describe. It seemed she was enjoying this once again, but hated that fact, and, in turn, hated me for it. Her breathing slowed to something in between a sigh and a moan.

“The others already think you’re a monster…” I whispered in a sickly voice. “Don’t prove them right…”

“They are right. I am.”

“I don’t think so…”

“Then you’re a liar.” When she said this she glared at me with more hatred than I ever thought could be contained in a human heart. Maybe it wasn’t a human heart. She pressed against me now as hard as she could, finally cutting off my airflow completely. My body involuntarily spasmed and fought to be free, but I couldn’t escape. I was going to die. I couldn’t speak, but once more I mouthed the words, “I don’t think so,” as I looked at her sympathetically. I’ll never quite be sure if I believed myself in that moment, or that was just the best idea I could think of to convince her to spare me. I guess it doesn’t matter, because it apparently worked.

Just as my vision was beginning to blur, as my thoughts became incoherent, as I felt my consciousness slipping away, she let me go, simultaneously throwing me to the ground. I fell like a ragdoll and simply lay there on the floor for a while, coughing and gasping for air. For a long few minutes, I lay there in silence, the only sounds being my coughing and strained breathing, but everything else was so quiet that I thought Mantis must’ve left. This thought calmed me down until her boots suddenly stepped into my field of vision. I looked up to see her staring blankly down at me.

“C’mon, get up,” she ordered before very aggressively helping me to my feet without waiting for a response. “Let’s go.”

“Where—” I began to ask, before that single word threw me into a small coughing fit. She dragged me along by the hand about a few steps before coming to a door. She waved her hand over the keypad and sensor beside it and the door sprang open and, voila! There it was. The dining hall. She led me inside.