Tunnels 06 - Terminal

her fur coat. She tugged at the neck of her crimson camisole to free her insect legs where they sprouted from the top of her spine. She continued to give Rebecca Two advice as she raised a foot and pushed the terrified man over with a thrust of her long heel. ‘I’m only telling you that whatever you think you feel for him …’ she threw a look at Captain Franz standing quite still behind Rebecca, ‘… it’s just not normal. Excuse me for a moment.’
    The vicar was still babbling his prayers, and too petrified toresist Hermione as she fell on him. Grabbing hold of his hair, she pulled his head round. ‘He’s young,’ she said. ‘And how nice to have a conscious but submissive one for a change.’
    Hermione glanced up at Rebecca Two, giving her a pointed stare. ‘This is all these human flesh bags are fit for.’ She turned her attention back to the vicar, the ovipositor swinging from her mouth as it sought out his. It was then that he began to resist weakly, but it was short-lived as her insect legs gripped his head hard at the temples.
    The last thing he said was ‘God save me,’ as the tube penetrated his mouth, the egg sac squeezing down it and deep inside him. When it had been done, he simply rolled over onto his side and curled up again. A reflex action to the obstruction in his oesophagus was making him retch and cough as Hermione got to her feet.
    ‘Ah, that’s a weight off,’ she said, slotting her egg tube back into her mouth. She sighed as she turned to Rebecca, juices flowing down her chin. ‘It’s just that your behaviour is frowned upon. Some would consider it to be unwholesome, sick even. And I’m telling you now that one day very soon you’re going to have to put this childish crush of yours behind you.’
    There was sadness in Rebecca Two’s eyes as she nodded.
    ‘It’s not a difficult choice. We have great times ahead of us,’ Hermione said. She leant closer to Rebecca Two and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘I know how it is. I did my stint Topsoil with the Heathen too, and one’s thoughts can become muddled, confused. There’s a temptation to go native – I experienced it too. But you’re a Styx, and that’s where your loyalties lie. Not with some pretty boy wimp that you’re going to outgrow very quickly. No, you’ll soon get over him.’
    ‘Now,’ Hermione announced, as she strode down the aisle. She mounted the steps up to the altar, where she swung around as if to address a non-existent congregation. ‘Where are my children, because I want them to sweep through that shopping centre like a plague of locusts. We’ll show these flesh bags that nowhere is safe for them.’
    There, at the altar, her insect legs extended to their full length and came together, rattling, and then vibrating faster and faster, until the sound was a continuous hum. At the same time, Hermione put her head back and opened her mouth, issuing a call that no human could hear.
    On all sides of the church, the windows suddenly burst inwards, fragments of stained glass showering down around the Limiters.
    Armagi streamed in from all sides, alighting on the backs of the pews and gathering together in the aisle. Semi-transparent beasts, as if made of liquid ice, the spiked feathers of their wings glittered under the light from the orbs.
    Hermione ended her call, lowering her head. ‘Ah, my children,’ she said. ‘My children have come to me.’

    With his ever-present escort of a pair of Styx Limiters, Danforth was doing his rounds of the floor, peering over the shoulders of the operators seated in front of their screens.
    A red indicator began to flash above one of the desks and the operator held her hand mechanically in the air. Danforth immediately went over to her. She had spotted something in a radio frequency sweep and flagged it for his attention. As he watched her screen, he repeated, ‘Interesting,’ several times, but became distracted as he heard a sound from several desksaway. He turned just in time to see the operator, a man in his forties, tug his headphones off and then begin to get to his feet.
    ‘Who said you could leave your post?’ Danforth snapped, but the man didn’t answer. For a moment he swayed on his feet, a remote look appearing in his eyes before he keeled over backwards, taking his chair with him.
    Tutting furiously, Danforth went to check on the man. Not noticing any signs that he was breathing, he felt his neck for a pulse. ‘He’s dead,’ Danforth