#Scifi #Fiction
0/20
From the back of his he'esh mount, Ghalid studdied the encampment in the tiny oasis hidden among the shifting dunes below. Men and women ran about, yelling orders and trying desperately to prepare for the coming Razor Storm.
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"Fools," he said. The polysphere drone hovering over his shoulder chirped a noncommital and ambiguous reply.
The migrant's garrishly colored tents flapped in the wind, the barest signal of what was to come.
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Amid the panic, Ghalid spotted a small, human child with skin the color of wet sand playing in the wind-lapped waves of the oasis' small pond. The child was oblivious to the chaos around it, as well as the approaching danger.
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"Children, these... Humans." Ghalid spat this last word out, as if it was acrid on his tongue. "Always reaching out further. Should have stayed in the Green East, where they landed."
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"They're going to die," The drone said, it's electronic voice filling Ghalid's ears.
He shook his head. "I cannot change that, old friend."
"Too much for the wanderer of the Black Sands?"
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Ghalid scoffed. "You bait me, Beacon, but I will not bite. You know better than I that they will not all fit within your shelter."
The drone moved closer to his shoulder. "True. My shelter can only hold, say... 3 or 4?"
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Below, a woman with dark skin, darker than Ghalid had ever seen, cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled. Her gaze landed on the child and she sprinted for it. Overhead, the sky darkened as the Storm began to block out the sun.
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"One of the child's parents, I expect," Beacon said. "The...mother? I believe that's what the call it. The one that bears the child'd womb."
Ghalid nodded. "So I've heard. What is it you are proposing?"
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The drone made a strange, electronic squawk. "That is forbidden. I merely calculate a scenario where a small few are spared the Storm."
Ghalid's he'esh snorted and stamped it's hoof. "And what makes those 2 so deserving?"
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Beacon squawked again. "Judgement is also forbidden. I only calculate survival of the species. Preserving the child furthers that goal. And preserving the mother--."
"Enough." Ghalid hissed as he kicked the he'esh into motion.
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Razor-edged diamond sand, carried by the looming storm, pelted Ghalid's hide. But below, screams erupted as that same sand began to shred the soft skin of the humans.
"It may already be too late," he yelled over the rushing wind.
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Several humans were already on the ground, writhing as their flesh was stripped away. The child's mother wrapped her arms around the wailing youngling, using her own body as a shield.
"Always the pessimist." Beacon raced ahead.
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A crimson tent, already riddled with holes, was ripped out of the ground by the stinging wind and flung straight at Ghalid. With the deft skill of a seasoned he'esh rider, he angled his mount away then back on course.
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Up ahead, red wetness speckled the mother's nearly bare back, her clothing almost completely shredded away. Ghalid spotted a flicker of movement to his right, but it was too late. The man went down under the he'esh's jagged hooves.
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Beacon reached the woman and a dome of hard-light pentagons spread down over her and the child. They were safe now. When she looked up, her gaze landed on something and she reached out in a wordless scream.
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Ghalid looked to where she pointed and saw a man, bundled in the shredded remains of his desert robes, crawling toward Beacon's shelter. As the wind blew, he left a trail of red-tinged sand in his wake.
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The child's second parent, Ghalid thought. He considered going to the man, but the sand was already slicing through his own, thick hide. Then the man collapsed and stopped moving. Ghalid's he'esh howled in pain and stumbled.
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Ghalid felt the beast's desire to stop and huddle against the shredding wind, but they had to keep on. They had to make it to the shelter. If they didn't... Ghalid climbed down from the he'esh's back and pulled it along.
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Ghalid climbed down from the he'esh's back and pulled. Like jagged shards of glass, the wind sliced at every scrap of exposed hide. A hole opened in Beacon's shelter and with the last of his strength, Ghalid pulled the beast inside.
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Ghalid fell to the ground, his chest heaving with pain and exhaustion. Tears streaking down her bloodied face, the woman looked into Ghalide's eyes. Her silent, anguished gaze thanked him more than words ever could.
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This story was inspired by Travis Lacey's amazing work. artstation.com/artwork/nQEXV6
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