Pip's Ophidian Book 1: Beatlebug & The Provider

Chapter 9: She Who Would Destroy Us All

"What's it like?" Pip had asked his Da once, when his Ma wasn't within earshot, when they were curled up in front of a televid watching some old show Ma wouldn't approve of, for it contained no educational value. Just kissing and feelings and funny moments. "Being in love?"

His Da had looked a little abashed. He looked like Pip, all dark hair and brown skin and soft edges, looming a little in a form that felt awkward in its largeness. He'd been more confident, though, than Pip could maybe ever dream of being. He'd made eye contact easily, and didn't flap his hands.

"Well. I think that really depends, Pippy."

"On what factors?"

"On the people involved. Each one, really. For me, love is like a soft blanket, very worn. It can be cozied up over anything, can put out a fire and keep you warm, and then smother you, all in the same day. For your Ma, it's... responsibility, I think." His words were light, but Pip felt the heaviness there.

Pip frowned. On screen, a man said, "screw it," and flung a table to the side, leaping forward at the same moment the woman did. They clung to each other, kissing passionately.

"Which is right?"

Da sighed. Reached over and gently stroked back Pip's hair. "Neither is right or wrong, kiddo. It's just trying not to hurt each other. And when you fail to do that, fessing up and working through it."

~

Pip very much wanted to think about what was going on. Yet he found that while it'd been hard to communicate at first, now it felt like he'd keyed into some frequency he couldn't get out of, and was broadcasting his every thought into the tiny crowd of aliens gathered around the kitchen table.

Yes. You are. Sharp thought at him, glaring. He'd returned from a mid-breakfast sulk a few minutes ago, and their plates–along with the comfort of the meal that morning–were abandoned off to the side. It was time to get Jesus involved. The daggers hadn't been fooled by their rover launch and were now encroaching, and they didn't have another jump left in them. They were out of time. Jesse had run to get her.

What's a televid? Pops asked.

What is a Da? Mel asked.

Pip groaned, lifting a hand to his head. Feeling, again, the spidery black stitches there.

He wondered grimly what kind of questions he had coming from Jesus, if this is what he was getting from her followers.

Mel hesitated, and then reached up and gently stroked back his hair. Too much like he'd just remembered his Da doing. So yeah, apparently broadcasting everything. Pip wanted to hide in his arms. The hand quickly went back to Mel's side.

The door then opened and every Ophidian rose. Physically in their limbs, and then, every crest rose as well.

Jesus was taller than all of them, and they were all tall. She towered so much he only saw half her face at first beyond the frame of the door, and then she ducked slightly and entered.

She was a Yellow, crest paler than Pops', and adorned along that crest with a gold chain that wove between the frills, pierced through and dangling with chunky glass beads clinking on the ends on either side. Her nose slits were pierced as well, a ring hanging down over her mouth. Her tunic was longer, almost floor length, and–he realized with a start–she didn't have a tail.

Jesse sauntered in after her and came to stand beside Mel, hands shoved deep in her pockets and eyes downcast. Whether with respect or with fear, he had no idea.

I see you have complicated matters. Pip jumped in his skin, and flinched. Gripped the edge of the table. Her words crackled into his mind like a lightning strike.