*
The atmosphere was moist, the floor slathered in worm trail. With the torch lighting the way, Taylor passed many possible routes and heard innumerable pests crawling about him. He felt metal underneath and came to realise that he wasn't in a burrow made by the worms, but a system of air ducts traversing the ship.
After a while, a greasy Taylor pressed his back against a wall to rest. He didn't want to sleep but his body demanded it. Two large pipes, one hot the other cold, stretched down each side of the vent. With nothing coming and feeling somewhat concealed, he squeezed underneath the cold pipe. Tucked away from any worms circulating the vent, he closed his eyes to sleep.
Increasing cold woke him some time later. The vent dripped with freshly laid slime and Taylor was relieved to have slept through the traffic that deposited it.
Moving on, hope arrived with voices, not human, but the distinctive warbles of the Jackanine. Taylor followed the sound of conversation coming from underneath him, careful not to bang his torch on the surrounding metal. Taking a left turn, he arrived at a large vent covered with a metal grill. Swiping off the torch's light, he crept over the vent and peered down through the narrow grill to see a small chamber with moody floor lights. There were around 10 slaves, all male, all naked, and all standing before a red Jackanine. The tall bird moved down the line, inspecting and correcting each man's posture. He appeared meticulous in his scrutiny, propping up chins, swiping dust from a slave's shoulders and parting hair to the side he preferred. The room was clean and strangely, the slaves were not covered in sand or broken by labour, but young and well cared for.
Taylor leaned closer, touching his nose against the grill. The chamber door opened and a lion entered. The Jackanine greeted him while the slaves remained still, shoulder to shoulder, eyes cast downwards.
Accompanying the soldier was a groomed lioness dressed in a flowing floral gown. She had a smooth brown mane, teddy bear ears and eyes revealing feminine softness and predator cunning.
When introductory formalities were over, the lioness and Jackanine moved down the line, assessing the slave's strong bones, facial symmetry and straight teeth.
Once inspection was complete, the lioness grazed her paw down the chest of the last man. The Jackanine clapped and the worker smiled, as if this was the proudest moment of his life. The purring lioness left the chamber with the slave in tow. The soldier and Jackanine followed, closing the door behind them.
Now alone, the slaves did not look or speak to one another, as if dissent and individuality had long ago been beaten out of them.
Taylor tugged at the grill but it needed more strength than he had. Being the most wanted man on the ship, he decided to carry on until a better option presented itself.
A hypnotic drum beat began to echo as Taylor approached the next vent. There, he bent to watch a bizarre scene play out beyond the grill. It was a sort of cocktail lounge full of socialising lions and privileged Jackanine, mingling over drinks and hors d'oeuvres: seeds for birds, tongues for lions. Many crowded around a central stage, on which two male and two female slaves lay on a bed of straw. A purple Jackanine pointed a stick at the couples then explained the various aspects of the human body. He then ordered one man to climb on top of a woman. The man needed little motivation to get going and when the act was underway, the purple Jackanine delineated all the details to his fascinated audience.
The third chamber Taylor came upon was glowing with candles surrounding a wooden coffin, intricately carved and painted to depict the beautiful lioness at rest inside. Taylor held a hand over his lips when he noticed Apophis sitting next to the coffin.
The general placed his paws over the lid, laid his face against the carved countenance and embraced his love. Taylor felt a surge of unbidden empathy for Apophis and the loss of his wife. He wanted to carry on, but feared stirring the lion in his grief. A more pressing matter soon came to mind, or out of it. The boil expanded and the burn returned. Taylor put his arms over his face while the growth expanded out of his skull. Unable to bear it, he yelped through his fingers and Apophis looked up at the vent. He scowled up at the grill when a party of unannounced lion well wishers suddenly entered the chamber.
As a furious Apophis gave them a piece of his mind, Taylor took advantage of the noise to move away. The moment he was out of sight, he inspected the growth popping out of his scalp. The abnormality was lemon sized, and pulsing. Every time he touched it, he felt light headed and sick to his stomach.
"Come on,” he whispered. “Pull it together. Pull it together now.”
Taylor didn't have the luxury to sit and feel sorry for himself. His only chance was to keep moving and hope to stumble across the interrogation room. It was a long shot, but long shots were his bread and butter now.
Crawling for the next vent, he stopped part-way when he noticed a tingling sensation emanating from the torch, as if it was somehow urging him toward the grill. The force was weak, but increased the closer he crept to the vent. A brilliant light suddenly flashed up through the grill, blinking on and off like the beam from a lighthouse. The light filled the ventilation shaft, bright enough to hurt Taylor's eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder and considered turning back.
"Fuck it.”
He pressed on for the light when suddenly, a magnetic force tugged at his arm, dragging him toward the grill. The chamber below contained a raised stone alter, on top of which sat the source of the light, a 6 foot by 2 foot wooden box. Strange energy blazed out from the cracks in the box and was accompanied by a low hum, reminding Taylor of the jump room. His torch kissed the grill, desperate to make contact with the humming object in the box. There was too much light, too much power and noise. Taylor pulled back but he was trapped against the grill, the entire ventilation system shaking, weakening joints and raining dust into all the attached chambers.
Suddenly, the box exploded, exposing a cube burning white hot in the heart of the chamber. The cube engulfed the room and it's light streamed up into the vent and out through every shaft in the ship. Taylor screamed as the grill gave way and the cube reeled him in. When his torch made contact, Taylor was filled up with glorious and excruciating light, coursing through his veins and blasting out of every orifice. Writhing, contorting and consumed by that force, a sudden and terrific force erupted from the torch as Taylor was torn from the cube.
Through a mental haze, he saw scared lions carrying him by his arms and legs, a worried looking Apophis following close behind.
Taylor felt nothing as the world revolved in his vision. He glanced down to his hands and watched them glow. He heard lions mewling in fear as they held on to his searing skin, a howling wind blowing his hair back. He heard the grinding steel of a descending ramp and saw swirling clouds through the arms of a lion.
"No! No!”
Apophis stood at a safe distance, ordering soldiers to discard the source of the radiation overboard. Taylor screamed at the top of his voice, but out of strength and out of ideas, begging was all he had left.
"General! Apophis! Don't do this! Wait!”
Taylor was dropped into the arms of gravity. Lions cheered as he plummeted into the deep blue sky, tumbling out of sight like a falling star.
He plunged into the clouds and as his speed increased, he watched as the sands of Egypt came into focus. The torch flared with fire and Taylor was startled to discover the power gauge sitting at 100%. He couldn't believe it, but he would use it. Reaching terminal velocity, his pounding heart sparked the torch into furious life.
"It's working!” he hollered, flames licking up his arm. “It's -”
Hamilton Taylor punched a second hole through space and time, leaving nothing behind.