"The Missing Oxen"

Season 1, Episode 1

written by Thomas Fritzinger

The creature was closing in on him, and there was nothing he could do, its rows of razor sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight.

Zildoran found himself once again in space, outside the Defender, doing his best to save his team. He knew that if the hull was breached, his only family would die and he couldn't allow it. Over the beast's back, Zildoran could see the mass of millions descending upon the unsuspecting earth. If he couldn't even take out one, what chance did the planet have?

He and Vexator hit the monstrosity with everything they had, but with little effect. It would take a power far greater than theirs to kill it. The act of hitting it hurt. It was like punching stone.

The Defender opened fire. Although the modified naval rail guns were powerful, they did little to the creature.

The beast flew backwards and shot a mass out of its tail section, if that is what it actually was. Then something went wrong. Reality shifted and the mass hit Vexator, killing him instantly. A second shot hit the Defender, tore off chunks of ablative shielding and breached the glass shield on the front of the cockpit. Quantum Elemental tried in vain to stop the two other beasts from hitting the ship but couldn't and one of them tore him in half.

The explosion of Quantum Elemental’s second death sent Zildoran reeling but did nothing to the beasts. It hammered the front of the Defender, shattering the remains of the glass shield outward and sucking the remainder of the Knights into the void of space. None of them had on protective suits and they began suffocating.

It was as if he could hear the beasts laughing in the void of space... or was it them laughing? The laughter seemed to be in his head. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere.

He came to his senses just as the three demons darted through space towards him, pushing the bloated, dead bodies of his teammates out of the way as they did. These three and hundreds more behind them, descended upon him like locusts. He started hitting them, each punch hurting more than the last. He couldn't stop. He couldn't rest...

A voice in his ear told him, "Zildoran, wake up!"

He woke in a start, sweat pouring down his temple. He was standing in his room, facing a wall and Eron was beside him with a concerned look on his face. Zildoran's knuckles were pounding and bloody. The wall in front of him was missing chunks of stone.

He could not hold it in. Cradling his head between his hands, Zildoran wept for the first time since he was a child.

Elsewhere, on the field of battle...

Sweat poured down Cassandra's brow. She stated into the burning eyes of Passion, neither one blinking. The tension in the air was palatable and both were exhausted from the strain this battle of wills was placing on them. Passion began to move away, only to have Cassandra match her movements and maintain solid eye contact.

There would be no escape this time and Passion knew it. This battle had gone on long enough and she was ready to end it. Cassandra closed in.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her left hand and placed it on Passion's temple. Passion reared back, but not too much. She was tired. The battle of wills was over. Passion lowered her head and snorted.

Cassandra stroked the side of the small equine's head lovingly. Taking it slow and easy, Passion was saddled and Cassandra offered her a handful of oats.

Passion was a Shetland pony, and a rather young one at that. Cassandra loved the animal, along with the rest that she now maintained at the keep, and this was the day that she would finally train her to accept riders. There wasn't much time before the county fair and she wanted Passion to provide pony rides to the children of the village. It appeared that it might actually work this time.

Cassandra's phone came to life. She had forgotten to leave it back at the stable. Unfortunately, the ringer was set pretty high and blasted "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy". Passion's eyes shot open and she started. As Cassandra watched the pony bolt for the gate, she sighed. Maybe today wasn't the day after all.

Answering the phone, she found Eron on the other end. "Cassandra, we need your help. A farmer nearby has reported missing cattle. Would you please go check it out? It's probably nothing, but you never know with the problems the Zigonians gave us. You'll find him at the local inspector's office."

"No problem, boss. I remember India too. I'll be back shortly." With that, Cassandra was on her way.

Arriving in the village, it wasn't very hard for Cassandra to locate the local authorities. After all, the village only really had about a hundred buildings. Most were made centuries ago, constructed of cobblestones and ancient mortar. The roofs of many on the outskirts of the small town were still thatch, with the more well constructed ones having tile near the clock tower at the center of town. St. Mary's, the local parish, was one of the few Catholic parishes in this part of England, most of them having been pushed out during the Protestant Reformation. It was the most beautifully constructed building in town, with high parapets, large stained glass windows and gargoyles adorning its’ surface. It was also situated off the town square, adjacent to the inspector's office and the town's administration building.

Cassandra pulled her Harley over in front of the office and killed the engine. Going inside, she met Mr. Brown, the farmer in question, an elderly gentleman who spoke perfect broken Cockney. After a brief conversation, they were off to his home along with Inspector McCormick. Upon arrival he showed her the pasture where the cattle, shaggy oxen mainly, had disappeared. He had not been back there yet for fear of arousing whatever creature had taken his cattle. A horrible stench of death and decay had wafted over from there a few days ago. Cassandra pulled out some research tools and started over towards the field with the inspector.

It wasn't long before she found a spot of earth that seemed to have a higher ambient radiation level than the surrounding field. Studying it intently, she found it to be teeming with insects, mostly sugar ants. Picking one up and studying it, she came to realize that the radiation was emanating from something coating the ant, possibly a powder of some kind. Sugar ants, she knew, were not carnivorous, nor were they capable of making oxen disappear, but something was definitely up.

She put the ant down and it scurried out of sight into a hole. Apparently startled by her presence, all of the ants were doing the same. The wind shifted and a stench hit her like a wall. It was a horrible smell, an odor of decay, the rot of death.

Looking to her right, she saw a deep hole in the ground. On all sides, ants had been building large mounds, as if in an effort to hide it. A swarm of flies buzzed loudly just below the lip of the opening.

She used her telekinetic ability to brush away some of the ant hills, creating a path to the hole. She pulled out a surgical mask from her bag and put it on, although it didn't help ward off the stink all too much. Looking into the hole, she found a grizzly sight. She had found the missing cattle.

Whatever had killed them had done so brutally. The bodies were lacerated and punctured. The limbs had been torn off of some of the poor heifers. Strangely enough, there wasn't one bite mark on them. Whatever had done this did not do it for food. After taking pictures, she pulled out some equipment to measure radiation and picked up faint traces of radioactive isotopes.

Cassandra put away her equipment and started moving towards the herd fearfully huddled on the other side of the field, thinking that a clue might be there when the ground began to shake. She turned just in time to see a mass rise up from the ground comprised of millions of sugar ants. It coalesced into the shape of a '10 tall ant and let out a roar that shook the earth and sent her hair flying. Unlike a normal ant, this one had massive mandibles and its eyes were empty sockets.

Moving swiftly, Cassandra put some distance between herself and the beast to assess the situation. The creature charged her. She easily jumped over it as it went by, blasting it with a bolt of electricity. The shock rolled off the creature and didn't seem to phase it, although a layer of dead ants began molting off of it as if it had just been hit by a ball of dirt. It turned and charged again, taking out a sapling tree as it did. Once again, Cassandra dodged the attack. This time, she tried a frost attack, only to see it have the same effect. Inspector McCormick looked at his sidearm and wisely chose to run for cover in the farmer's home.

The process repeated a few times, each time with the same results. Each attack merely removed the topmost layer of ants. Finally, she attempted a psychic dagger. Hitting the mass of ants behind what would be the skull cap; the dagger dug deep and sent a jolt through the beast. The conglomerated insects buckled and collapsed. It fell to the ground as if it was made of sand and ants scurried in all directions. Within seconds, the battle was over and a pile of clean yet fresh oxen bones littered the ground. The insects must have been using them as a framework to support their combined weight.

The farmer and the inspector ventured out of the house. One had a pitchfork, the other a service revolver (maybe a Luger). In a thick Cockney accent, the farmer began, "What? That what was eatin' me cattle?"

"I guess so, although I don't really know why. The carcasses I saw show me that maybe they weren't eating the cattle. Maybe the cattle were target practice."

Looking down at the field, Cassandra had the feeling that this wasn't a fluke of nature, which something was happening here. She collected one of the over-sized, dead queen ants and put it in a plastic bag before heading back to the farmer's home to review notes with the gentlemen who witnessed the attack. Whatever did occur here, it was just beginning...

To be continued...