Rivet hid behind the backdrop of the clergy stage, watching the frenzied throng through a knothole. Hundreds of worshippers were assembled for the night's Communion. The choir chanted. Drums pounded. Bodies swayed. Sweaty devotion wafted through the meeting hall. All of these poor fucks were baptized followers of the new religion, scavengers and homesteaders searching for purpose in their bleak existence. Soon, the Sacrament would drip from the sacred idol of the Almighty Toad King, a corroded bronze statue of a dancing toad perched on the central dais. Anticipation weighed heavy in the air as everyone waited to see their beloved Reverend.

The head deacon flung his arms high. "Come to the altar. Bow at the webbed feet of salvation. Forty years ago, the Ghrek fleets filled our skies with horror. Cities fell. Rivers flowed red. Land and water were poisoned by weapons of mass destruction. We triumphed over the alien peril, brothers and sisters, but we paid the price for human vanity. Earth has forsaken us. Yet we live, we fight! Kneel and savor the nectar of our King. Thine eyes shall be opened to the divine."

The congregation cheered.

Rivet bit her lip and seethed. The deafening beat and flashing lights of Toadie meetings stirred religious passion for most, but not for her. Tears burned the edges of her eyes. The little Ghrek downstairs didn't deserve to die.

If she proved herself worthy over time—whatever that meant—Slake had promised to baptize Rivet into the congregation. But after what she'd seen here, she didn't want to be in Reverend Slake's insane herd. Someday, she'd find a way to escape. When she found a better place to run to. She was little more than a slave in the church, but being Slake's servant was better than skirting the wastes outside the compound, dodging the Dastard bandit gangs, always starving.

The sound of footsteps startled her. She ducked away from her peephole and pressed herself against the rough-hewn wall. Three men approached. The gaunt silhouette of Reverend Slake lurched from the shadowy corridor, followed by his two bodyguards, Mort and Clash.

"I want the Ghrekling placed into the vessel on time. No delays." Slake's baritone voice commanded obedience. He stepped to the cracked full-length mirror beside the stage door and adjusted his black silk tie.

Mort rubbed his greedy hands together. "This is the biggest congregation yet. And all paid up on tithes. The silo's crammed out with provisions, ammo, and fuel."

Slake dusted off his stovepipe hat and put it on his balding head. "The worshippers expect their share. Send that runt girl down with a coffee bath. On the double. The Sacrament must be plentiful tonight."

Runt, huh? Rivet clenched a fist. She was just a skinny teen, but she certainly wasn't a runt. She'd survived most of her life as an outsider, having lost Mom and Dad in a Dastard raid. The only reason she'd joined the Church of the Almighty Toad King was for shelter and sustenance. She didn't need anybody. And one day, Slake would pay for insulting her.

Slake opened the stage door and entered the meeting room. The muffled roar of the congregation resounded through the floor. Quick as a rat, Rivet scrambled back to the kitchen before Mort caught her eavesdropping again.

***

Coffee was all done and set to cool. Rivet poured the watered-down brew into a plastic jug and grabbed a handful of scullery rags. Only Slake was allowed to drink coffee since he was the king of his own world. Its main use was as a sponge bath to make the Ghreks extra slimy. Something in the acidity, or so she assumed. Anyone else caught possessing the precious beans would be flogged or shot, depending on the Reverend's mood.

The kitchen door creaked open, and Mort walked in. He pointed to another door on the far wall. The door to Hell, everyone called it. Led to the dark, stinky Ghrek cellar. "It's time. Get the sacrifice ready. I'll be down to fetch it before invocation."

Rivet sneered. "Whatever."

"You'd better drop the attitude, runt. Unless you want my kind of punishment. I taught the Dastards how to deal with bitches like you." Mort drew his knife and made a slicing motion between two upraised fingers.

"Sick pervert." Rivet threw her shoulders back and picked up the coffee jug. "I haven't done anything wrong. Get the fuck out of here."

Reverend Slake and his cronies had once been a nomadic gang like the Dastards. They'd risen to power and wealth with their upstart religion, which made them a sitting target for enemy outlaw bands. The church's numbers were its only defense. If the Dastards ever passed the guards and got into the compound, it wouldn't be pretty.

"Just do what you're told." Mort stomped out of the room, leaving Rivet to her grim task.

She ran a hand through her messy bobbed hair and faced the door to Hell. Mort had actually called the Ghrekling a sacrifice. Sure, it was true, but the whole thing was just plain wrong. And this little tadpole...she couldn't stand it. She kicked the cellar door open. It slammed against the bare concrete wall.

Below, she heard the slosh of Ghrek slime, the clink of many chains. A throaty croak rose to a shrill purr. And the stench. Ugh. Like crusty socks and engine grease. Dirty humans smelled bad, but dirty Ghreks took it to another level. She was the only servant here who could stand it, and the only human the Ghreks seemed to like. Even though they were smelly and unpredictable, the vanquished alien species fascinated her. 'Toad Whisperer' was the name she'd earned among the lesser deacons. She held her breath and descended the narrow stairwell.

What a dismal prison. She pitied the Ghreks. No windows, no fresh air. Walled in with cold gray cinder blocks. Fluorescent lights dangled overhead on exposed wires, casting a harsh glow on the otherworldly inmates. On the sacrifices. The tadpoles.

Her boots slipped in a puddle of black slime as she reached the bottom step. She steadied herself with a sigh.

A shallow sinkhole in the concrete floor served as a pool for these amphibious yet humanoid creatures. The cellar was small, not enough space for the fifteen-foot-tall mother Ghrek to stand. Not like she could stand, anyway. Slake kept her bound with thick steel chains and Plexi-cord cables, lashed in thick coils around her neck, limbs, and all three of her venomous tails. The mother watched Rivet with wide, amber eyes. The spiny dewlap around her neck flexed around her pulsing vocal sacs. Three hollow, membranous tongues flicked out of her wide mouth, the tiny fibers at their tips wriggling, testing the air.

Rivet greeted the mother with a warbled whistle, her best impersonation of a Ghrek's croak. "Hey, Warts. You and the kids behaving tonight?" She'd named the big mother Warts, though Ghreks really weren't warty like Earth toads. Still, the resemblance was there, and the name had stuck. Hoppy, on the other hand, was the first of the baby Ghreks to get a name. The others hadn't been as unique as this one. And besides, they never lived long. Thanks to Slake and the thirsty Toadies.

A deep growl rumbled from Warts' chest. Female Ghreks were stronger and more aggressive than their males. Slake was wise to keep Warts restrained. All he wanted her for was the endless supply of hallucinogenic slime which oozed from Ghrek skin. The basic and most important ingredient in the Sacrament.

All at the cost of a young life.

Warts shifted on her long haunches, swaying as Rivet approached the slime pool.

Rivet set the coffee jug and the rags down. She pulled off her boots and socks, rolled up her threadbare trousers, and waded in. Murky black goo washed against her ankles. Beneath the surface, hundreds of tadpoles in varied stages of development darted around her toes. Future sacrifices. Her throat tightened.

She called out. "Hoppy! It's time for a bath."

Warts keened a long, sad moan. Warts must know what's happening tonight. Ghreks are as smart as humans. We just don't understand them.

She whistled again to get the Ghrekling's attention. Hoppy liked to hide in the deep end of the pool near his mother's feet. "Hoppy, come out."

Ripples stirred the slime, and a flat, pointed head emerged. A pair of bulbous eyes focused on Rivet, membranes flicking over horizontal pupils. The Ghrekling's three tails rose from the ooze. Hoppy wasn't venomous yet. And he was small, only as tall as Rivet's waist, so Slake didn't bother to restrain him.

Rivet smiled and beckoned. "C'mere."

Hoppy swam closer, slower than usual. His fringed dewlap lay flat, submissive, and he cowered when she reached for his arm. The Ghrekling's vocal sacs bubbled at the sides of his neck. He croaked once, then spoke in a squeaky voice. "Rivet. Rivet."

She snickered. So close to a frog's 'ribbit'. "Yes, that's me. Very good. Rivet. Friend."

Hoppy's head tilted to a very cute angle. "Good. Friend," he said.

Rivet had taught Hoppy a few words. The Ghrekling was an excellent mimic. None of his siblings had been as curious, nor as bright, to attempt human speech. He was so young. Just a few weeks ago, he'd lost his baby tail. Now he was grown enough to be the next Sacramental offering. Tears welled in Rivet's eyes again, and she wiped them away. Not Hoppy. Please. There has to be a way out this time. But how?

She tugged at Hoppy's hand, urging him out of the pool. "Let's give you a bath. You've always liked baths, right? The coffee makes you nice and slimy for...for your big night."

Hoppy fell to his haunches and made a sorrowful keening sound, much like his mother had. "No. Bad." He looked up and pointed to the ceiling, where the trap door to the meeting room would soon open and lift him into the Toad King statue. Once there, he'd be crushed to death by the sharp gears inside it, and his blood and slime would trickle through the idol's tiny pores. The Sacrament. The mind-altering substance of Toadie visions.

Hoppy knew, too. It struck Rivet all at once, and she shivered. And why shouldn't he? He'd seen his siblings meet the same fate.

Rivet sank to her knees beside the Ghrekling. "No, it isn't good. It's evil. This whole place. Slake. All of it. If I could burn this church down, blow it up, get you out of here, I would. But I'm just a kid like you."

A new voice spoke, deep and assured. "World. Your...world. Sick. Dying."

Stunned, Rivet met Warts' piercing gaze. "Warts? You can talk, too?"

The mother Ghrek replied with a nod as eloquent as any human might give. "Long time. I watch. Study. Learn. You. Your kind. Before war. Before..." Her voice trailed into a wheezing croak. Human speech was surely difficult for a Ghrek, limited with their wide jaw and fragile tongues.

Hoppy tugged at Rivet's arm. "Ma. Talk. We. Talk. Out. Go. Rivet. Friend. Help."

"I can't believe this," Rivet said, sniffling. "All this time. You've been hiding this, haven't you? You've understood everything. If Slake knew, he'd...but wait. What did you mean when you said our world is dying?"

"Touch," Warts said. "Share." The chains clanked, cables stretched as Warts tried to move closer. Her long tongues flicked toward Rivet and Hoppy. Hoppy responded with the gesture Rivet had seen many times between the Ghreks, touching his thick middle tongue to his mother's. Sort of a kiss, but it had always disgusted Rivet.

Hoppy reached for Rivet. He liked to be held, even cuddled at times. Rivet picked him up, and he circled his thin arms around her neck. His tongue extended and brushed her face. Not slimy, but soft and feathery. Almost as if a flower stroked her. He tasted her tears, then pressed his bumpy forehead to hers, his tongue light against her mouth. "Touch," he whispered.

She winced. "You want to touch my tongue?"

Warts answered for her child. "Yes. Touch. Learn."

Rivet frowned, doubts berating her. They're Ghreks. Killers. They came from who knows where, some other planet or time, to conquer Earth. At least, that's what the old folks say. How can I trust the monsters from every bedtime story Mom and Dad told me? Then again, what other choice is there? Slake and Mort are monsters, too. Earth sick. Dying. What the fuck? I want to know more.

After a few seconds, she surrendered and stuck out the tip of her tongue. She hoped her silver barbell piercing wouldn't frighten the Ghrekling.

Hoppy didn't care. He placed his tongue against Rivet's.

The instant they touched, a warm tingle crept over Rivet's tongue and spread into her mouth, her head, every nerve in her body buzzing. Her vision blurred. She gasped, arms limp. Hoppy let go and hovered beside her, his tails caressing her back.

"What's happening to me?" Rivet lay on the floor, tossing, her feet still dipped in the pool. Her pulse thumped in her skull like the Toadie drums above. She'd never taken the Sacrament before, though she'd witnessed its effects many times. Shivering, sweating, chattering teeth, loss of balance and direction. Many had described a ringing in the ears that grew louder and louder until it crescendoed into a song. A humming frequency which led the seeker into a psychedelic dream. All of these now consumed her.

She called out, reaching for someone, anyone. Hoppy's cool, moist fingers clutched hers. She couldn't see the cellar or the Ghreks, only a black void with a pulsing light in the distance. The light expanded, drew closer, and engulfed her.

That ringing sound...it was a song. It came from the light in her mind's eye. The high trill of many unseen voices. A sound she hadn't heard since she was very small, when she'd stand on the riverbank near her family's homestead and listen to the frogs chirp in the reeds. This was much louder, more complex, and resonated through every cell. Ghrek-song. The more she listened, the clearer it became. As prisms of color swirled around her, she beheld a dancing Ghrek, its tails arched around its lithe body. Its skin glimmered with a flawless copper sheen.

"Y—you're the Toad King," Rivet said. "But you're actually a Ghrek? How...?"

The image of the Toad King disintegrated into thousands of tiny sparks, and Rivet's normal sight returned. Light whirled and beamed around the looming figure of Warts. The mother Ghrek watched Rivet with calm, narrowed eyes. Her vocal sacs billowed with a rhythmic song, the very song Rivet had heard in her hallucination of the Toad King.

"Now, you will understand us perfectly." The smooth female voice spoke in Rivet's head, though Warts' mouth never moved.

Rivet's jaw dropped. "Warts! I can hear you. You're inside my brain...talking. Holy shit! This is awesome."

Warts dropped to all fours, putting herself more on a level with Rivet. "This is the mind-plane of my people. For eons, we have shared the Touch. Our collective ideals, what your great thinkers call 'archetypes' or 'gods', long ago manifested within our soul-realm as K-harrrak, the shining King who dances. He is the reflection of our deepest psyche. You are the first human I've Touched to behold him as a Ghrek. Most of your kind only see a dancing toad, as they refuse to acknowledge us as equals."

Rivet sat up, rubbing her temples. Her head still swam, her senses reeling in the ebb and flow of the Ghrek mind-plane. "So," she mumbled, "this means I'm special?"

"Not unique. There are other humans like you, though rare." Warts lowered her snout and exhaled a long sigh. "Young humans are healthier, not yet fully corrupted, and thus easier to Touch. Most of your people are infested beyond hope. As is your planet. Your 'Earth' is a mirror of you, of all life within its planes. And as Earth's children become ill, so does the mother. You have been Touched by the healing kiss of the Shining King, and this will grant you some immunity to the parasite which even now spreads through you."

"What do you mean? What's this parasite?"

"It is called, in our language 'Hurghat', and it is a treacherous microscopic lifeform. Sentient, yet unable to evolve of its own accord, it feeds on the well-being of carbon-based lifeforms, favoring species with unpredictable emotions. It appeared millennia ago in a neglected sector of our galaxy and spread through many systems. It consumes negative emotions and propagates its host victims to produce such evils on an individual scale, then collectively on a planetary one. Entire worlds have been lost to Hurghat infestations. Earth is but one, and humans have been prey for much of their history. Your countless wars and atrocities. Your disregard for your fellow beings. Your arrogance. All are symptoms of Hurghat.

"My people, whom you call Ghreks, are one of the few species in the galaxy immune to Hurghat. Thus, long ago, we were selected as part of an interstellar quarantine and extermination force. We arrived here to heal and cleanse Earth but discovered it was too late. Hurghat has spread through your entire race and seeped into the very core of this planet. We did not come to conquer and invade, as your false stories assumed. The cities we destroyed were the most heavily infested hive centers and were decimated in our attempt to eradicate Hurghat. But alas, we underestimated the power and extent of the parasite's influence here. Your military defeated us in battle, and our survivors were imprisoned in top-secret research facilities. But the war had only begun.

"Hurghat rebelled when it realized we could not be infected like humans, and it stirred a deluge of natural disasters to punish all of us, human and Ghrek alike. Earthquakes, volcanoes, floods, and super-storms reduced your civilization to the apocalyptic state you see today. Your people and mine both struggle to survive in the aftermath. My family escaped after an earthquake toppled the facility we were imprisoned in, only to be attacked and captured by this Reverend Slake. They killed my mate and took me prisoner. Here I am, now, my children fodder for madness. Slake is not just a mere human. Hurghat has possessed him so completely that he is a walking shell inhabited by the parasite's pure malice. He seeks to infect as many as he can with his heretic prophecies and distortion of Ghrek wisdom. When I am free, I shall euthanize him, but it is too late for your world. Earth and humanity will soon perish to Hurghat. Nothing can be done. We must all flee if we wish to live."

Rivet wrapped her arms around herself. Somewhere within, she knew Warts told the truth. Gut instinct never lied. "This Hurghat...it's inside of me, too?"

"Yes, but for you, there is hope. You know of Hurghat now, and this is the first step to purification. My people have the technology to heal all humans who wish to be free. But we cannot do it here. We must return to the stars and remove you from this doomed planet. The last Ghreks now gather at a remote location far to the north of this compound. This is where my family hoped to go before Slake captured us. There, in a ruined bunker long abandoned by the former military of this land, is a functioning transport ship from our fleet. There is enough room aboard for all of us to escape."

Rivet crawled to her feet and took Hoppy's hand. "I'll gladly go with you. But, just a warning. This place is a bitch to break out of. And your chains...Slake wears the keys around his neck. I don't know how we can steal them. He's surrounded by guards night and day."

Rowdy noises came from the meeting hall upstairs. Shouts. The Reverend yelling for his security team. Hoppy's small voice spoke in Rivet's head. "More bad people are here." He looked at Warts. "I want out, Mama."

"Soon," Warts crooned in reply.

Then they heard the undeniable pop and crack of gunshots. Hundreds of people screamed. Feet and bodies thumped overhead.

"Guns aren't allowed in the hall." Rivet gulped. "Unless...could it be the Dastards?"

Warts extended her dewlap to a full fan and flexed her fingers. "It is Hurghat. We must be ready."

"Ready!" Hoppy cried aloud. He bounced and splashed at the edge of the pool. The tadpoles schooled in a dark mass around him.

More gunshots fired. Many people bellowed in unison. They recited a battle cry Rivet knew all too well. Over and over. "Bleed 'em! Bleed 'em!"

Rivet stepped closer to Warts. "Shit. It is the Dastards. They've broken in. They'll rob and shank everyone here."

"Wait." Warts' thought-voice was serene. "The disease comes. His fear can be our weapon."

"What?" Rivet froze as rapid footsteps ran down the cellar stairs.

Slake's voice, usually so bold, now wavered. "Mort, you cock-bent traitor! I should have painted the altar with your brains. Dastard fucks."

"Save it, old man. This is our kingdom, now." Mort's laughter rang in the dim passage. Cock-bent traitor, indeed. So that's who'd let the marauders in. Hardly surprising.

"Fuck you," Slake replied. "The church will die without me, and you'll have nothing in the end."

The door to the cellar swung open, revealing Slake, Mort, and a band of Dastards. All of the Dastards stayed in the stairwell, rifles and knives brandished, their attention focused on the towering figure of Warts.

Hoppy whimpered and pressed close to Rivet's side.

Mort ignored Rivet and the Ghreks. He pushed Slake to the floor and aimed a revolver at the Reverend's head. "Gimme the keys."

Slake chuckled, though blood trickled from his nose and mouth. "You think you can contain these beasts? You're a fool."

Mort kicked the Reverend in the ribs, then ripped the key cord from Slake's neck. "Let's see how this upstart prophet likes being locked in here with his Devils." He spat, then sneered at Rivet and the Ghreks. "You too, runt. Never liked your skank mouth, anyway. You can all play with Big Bad Mama Toad and get what you deserve." He turned to his Dastard companions. "Let's loot the silo and roll. Nothing else here worth taking. Ghreks smell like ass crack, and all their slime does is make you see dancing frogs and rainbows while you foam at the mouth. There's no God, Reverend. There's only winners and losers. And guess what? You lose, fucker."

Hoppy interrupted with a shrill squeak. "No. You. Lose." He sprang onto Mort and wrapped his tails around the brute's neck. "Rivet. Go!"

Mort and the Reverend gaped. The Dastards retreated further up the stairs as Warts strained against her chains and let out a deafening croak.

Rivet dashed in and snatched the keys from Mort's flailing hand.

Retching, Reverend Slake pushed himself up on two arms. He vomited a snarl of blood and bile.

"Now," Warts said. Her tails thrashed, the barbs at their tips glistening with toxin.

Rivet jammed the key into the panel beside the door. An ominous click came from the bolted pulleys behind Warts. The chains and cables fell slack.

Hoppy let go of Mort and jumped onto Rivet, shoving her to the floor. The Dastards fled up the stairwell without a backward glance. Cowards to the end, as Rivet had always known them to be.

Warts crouched and whipped all of her tails in a wide arc. Three lashes of death. The barbs caught both Mort and Slake in the neck. Blood sprayed in plumes across the cellar. Their bodies slumped, lifeless, convulsing.

"Children, come," Warts said aloud.

Rivet and Hoppy scrambled to her. The mother scooped them into her long arms and helped them onto her back. Then she bent to the pool, extended her long tube of a tongue, and sucked all of her tadpoles into an expanding sac beneath her neck.

With the final turn of a key, Rivet loosed the harness of bondage from Warts. The Ghrek shook it off with a triumphant cry. Then Warts scurried up the stairwell and carried all of her babies out.

The compound rang with chaos. The Toadie congregation milled about, panicked, scattered. Dastards looted whatever they could amidst the mayhem. The meeting hall smoldered in flames, most likely the Dastards' work.

Large as she was, Warts possessed the graceful stealth inherent to her kind. There were no nets or sedative guns to stop her this time. No one noticed as the Ghrek bounded over the compound wall and disappeared into the night, into the fading world outside misguided barriers.

***

Three weeks later

Rivet and Hoppy stood side by side, staring at Earth through the broad viewing portal on the Ghrek ship's observation deck.

"It was your home," Hoppy said in thought. "You won't miss it?"

Bowing her head, Rivet squeezed his hand. "Never had much going for me there. Home is where you find friends. Family. My parents died when I was little. Guess you might say I've got a new family, now."

Warts joined them. "There's much work to be done, little human. You and the other Earth survivors may join us in our mission if you wish. Hurghat still threatens other worlds. Will you rise to the fight?"

Rivet turned her back to Earth and prayed silently to whatever 'god' might be listening. Ghrek tails and arms embraced her, and a new challenge unfolded in the infinite stretches between stars.