Galaktias Grottesca

He saw her face through my window. Unsettled, I stood behind Malkin as he sat statuesque and engrossed in what he saw before him. His miniature fluorescent blue eyes beamed directly into the ship stationed just outside Khylund 5c. It was congested with fresh, miserable émigrés that had just recently been dumped into the station. They had come from Jord.


Malkin sat and absorbed everything that was happening on the main ship. He was taking in the Knowledge of the Present at a rapid speed. Within seconds he saw and knew every face; he now knew each refugee's sad story. His whiskers vibrated gently as he absorbed the Poignancy into his paws.

"Are things... normal?" My heart raced.

Malkin paused. It felt like an eon.

Moments later, Malkin, my prophetic Felis catus, began to painfully transmute into a Krypte catus. He hissed and cried.

"Out! GET OUT!"

I was paralyzed in terror. I watched Malkin's fur fall from his back, exposing filthy pink flesh. His body pulsated as though something inside of him was trying to induce its own birth. Blood began to drizzle down his back from a wound I had yet to see. Thin membranes connected to wing bones began to emerge from his body. He continued to hiss.



I shivered. I ran into the hallway frantically, looking for the XO of this transitory ship; I bowled into her within seconds, by chance.

"What's your issue, Dr. Keigh?"

I was short of breath. "It's happening... it's happening. It's happening!"

"Be specific, doctor!" The XO's face turned white.

My throat began to tighten as though I was having an allergic reaction. "Malkin... Malkin's sensed The Disciple. She is aboard the émigré ship... The Disc-"

"The Disciple."


The XO stormed away from me. Moments later I heard voice over the battleship's P.A. I knew what I was about to hear.

"Attention passengers of the Metonym: Prepare for auto-destruct in 45 seconds."

I walked slowly back to my room. All of the blood in my body had drained to my feet. I peaked my head in.

"Jam tibi impero et præcipio maligne spiritus! ut confestim allata et circulo discedas, absque omni strepito, terrore, clamore et foetore..."

I stared at the living gargoyle as it chanted, waiting anxiously for my body's particles to dissolve. I prayed this would work.

I shut my eyes.


Seconds later, I appeared on the émigré ship, watching Metonym expand into fire.