33

Darkness. Silence, aside from the sound of your own breathing.

You open your eyes. You'd blacked out for a few moments there.

You are lying in a pool of sludge. The sky above you is a swampy green color, the filth all around you a somewhat darker green. The air is thin, difficult to breathe.

Two suns hang in the sky: a pale blue star, small and high up, and a nasty gray star, bigger, lurking near the horizon.

This is the Surgeons' homeworld. This is where the H'ssurru'ssurri live—the place from which they want to escape.

That's when you see the Surgeons. They are all around you, maybe a hundred feet away. Perhaps even the laws of physics are different here: the Surgeons are visible with the naked eye, more or less; the sight of them flits and flickers, and makes your brain ache. Still, seeing them truly, you see they are far taller than a man, and far thinner. They have two legs, and two arms that taper to spikes. Their heads are long, and angular, and end in a sharp proboscis.

You find yourself at the summit of a small hill, looking out across a filthy landscape. The Surgeons are everywhere, hundreds of thousands of them. Unmoving, for now. Maybe they haven't noticed you. Yet.

And then, from behind you, a moan. Anaru Katariki is here as well, lying in the mud, just like you.

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