Larval Haze is a continuation of the short story Strange Harvest.
This series of short stories immerses readers in a world shrouded in mystery and danger-the planet Surface, a mirror-earth in a distant start system called Lux. Our protagonist finds...
8/18/23 Author's Note: This is a continuation of a previously published story on 抖阴社区 called "Strange Harvest" which I ended prior to taking a long hiatus from writing. My new home is at Hanlon's Reader on Substack now, but I'll continue to post here too.
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I think I'm only alive because they thought I was dead.
The dusters never intended to save me or my lotus wasp eggs; they just wanted my nullsuit. Same as Warren's stolen armor. Well, really the nullsuits weren't even ours—we both borrowed them from Royal Lotus Company. From Mueller.
Damn, pretty sure that meant my family was on the hook for some kind of equipment fee. Warren's next of kin, too, if she had any.
We didn't get that close before the jungle got her.
Two heavy knocks at the cell door. "Meal time, freak."
Leguro, my least favorite keeper. Like most of the other dusters, he didn't need any provocation to be an aggressive asshole, so I wouldn't give him any. I sat up on my elbow to clear a spot for him to put my tray on my bedside table.
He shoved the tray onto the table, sloshing the water cup and spilling some into a bowl of what looked like yellowish oatmeal. The tray also hit my toothbrush, and it tottered briefly on the edge before falling off onto the ground and skittering underneath my bed.
Leguro snorted, amused. Squinting with hollow eyes down his broad, flat nose, he sniff-grunted—it was a weird tic he had, this gurgling little strained noise in the back of his throat—and his loose, jowly cheeks twitched. His disgust for me was clear at all times, as though it went against his moral code to care for me.
Feeding me, giving me drink... these things almost seemed to cause him literal physical pain. But at least he had the decency to knock.
A lot of us from Surface don't know too many Earth species, but we all at least know a few kinds of dogs from primary school—Leguro reminded me one hundred percent of a bulldog. There was just no better way to instantly describe the man.
"Enjoy that meal." My stocky, reluctant caretaker mocked me as he shuffled out of the room. "Hope it's your last one."
Leguro's special goodbye, just for me. Gotta keep that emotional distance.
I kept my own special comments to myself as the door locked behind him. I put my brain on autopilot, ate without tasting, drank my liquid, and let my thoughts fade into the background now that I was alone again. No one would be bothering me until tomorrow morning, so I'd have all night to focus.
My baby grub eggs were still growing. They needed encouragement. Guidance. Preparation. The pre-larval stage is crucial in their development, and they would already miss out on so much.
