Creeping Stalker

"Lucin’s Breath—where the ice comes alive and swallows men whole.”

–Lajos Gelei, Thermal Processing, Winterscale Mine C-74K

Alberse had initially landed on Lucin’s Breath to conduct some highly unofficial business with the Shrivs, a group of rather dubious local scavengers with some rare items for trade. Things actually went well; we got to trading stories and mention was made of something called a “Creeping Stalker.” Alberse, naturally enough, had to find one. Thus, we ended up marching across the landscape with our local guides (for an extra fee), looking for something a few metres long and wide, with translucent flesh and an irregular hide. The Shrivs seemed fearful, but I had to wonder how dangerous such a creature could be, considering I’d been told life on this iceball moved at millimetres per day to conserve energy. This was before I saw one in action. Standing amid a glassy forest of crystalline boulders and towering ice spires, any doubts I had as to the danger of a stalker were quelled when I saw the snow ripple behind a man. I barely had a chance to shout a warning over the vox before the thing had him. What had seemed to be a layer of water ice and methane frost now revealed itself to be a flowing mass of semi-transparent flesh and writhing tentacles. The luckless Shriv’s patchwork void suit dissolved wherever the tentacles touched, venting air that froze almost instantly. I pulled Alberse away with one hand and drew my Locke with the other. Another in the party pointed a hand flamer at the monster but the frigid temperatures meant the promethium failed to ignite. His fumbling attempts to make the weapon work resulted in his being the next to fall. For a supposedly sessile creature, the thing was moving awfully fast. Having shoved Alberse to what I hoped was a safe location, I turned my attention back to the beast. With two men’s screams no longer crowding the vox I was able to make myself heard, and told Alberse (and everyone else) to get back. I then braced and opened fire. At such close range, each round barely had time to ignite before they slammed home, splattering the creature (and what was left of its two victims) over the frozen landscape. As I cautiously looked around for any more (and noticed the Shrivs had disappeared from the scene), Alberse recovered from his initial shock. His first act was to complain that my bolter had rendered the animal’s skin useless as a trophy. His second was to declare that we had to find another of the creatures. He simply had to have a skin for his trophy room. Fortunately, the frozen forest about us seemed to be home to several and we were able to dispatch a second one with a single well-placed Hellgun round. Once the animal was dead, I had to admit the skin was a rather interesting sight, seeing as it was nearly transparent in some areas and covered in a speckled pattern of blotches in others. On the other hand, it took an effort of will not to laugh (or retch) when it turned out the ship’s trophy room was far too warm to properly display Alberse’s newest prize. The skin stank like underhive drops and began decaying once we had ignited our drives to leave the system, going from glassy flesh to a leathery goo before we had even entered the warp.

ICEWORLD TERROR Life on Lucin’s Breath is uniquely adapted to the planet’s freezing temperatures. Creatures (including some mobile flora) there move very, very slowly—if at all—in an effort to conserve as much energy as possible. Creeping Stalkers, being one of the planet’s apex predators, normally move at a blistering rate of nearly a metre an hour, while lesser animals such as the rotund Ice-Eaters might cover the same distance in a week or more. The Stalker’s lack of speed and natural coloration can make it very hard to detect as most look like just another mottled patch of frost and ice. They are also virtually silent as they move, like most life on the planet. This behaviour allows them to approach unseen and unheard, and more than one miner, distracted by a piece of balky equipment, has been taken unaware by what he assumed to be just another patch of snow.

Stalkers—and all life native to Lucin’s Breath—have vastly reduced metabolisms, with life-spans that can might be measured in centuries, and their body temperature registers as just barely above the ambient freezing conditions. Even digestion is accomplished at a reduced pace, with locals reporting Stalkers taking months (if not longer) to fully consume a meal. In the rougher camps outside the Wrecks, some have taken to capturing a Stalker then placing bets as to which parts dissolve away first from the swollen stomach. As food is so hard to come by, even when engorged a Stalker is more than willing to attack new prey if they have the energy and opportunity presents itself. Stalkers are never truly sated, and always hungry for more sustenance. The average Creeping Stalker is a flat, vaguely diamondshaped creature two to three metres long by one to two metres across. However, as Stalkers never stop growing, it is possible larger ones exist and apocryphal tales on Victory Station tell of creatures dozens of metres wide eating entire vehicles, crew and all. A Stalker’s skin and flesh is mostly translucent, except where mottled patches serve to break up the featureless covering and aid in camouflage. The hide is surprisingly tough, considering its fragile appearance, and can stretch greatly to accommodate meals. The creature is without skeleton or internal structure; the only rigid parts are the rings of ripping transparent teeth set around the wide, jawless mouth. Four long, whip-like tentacles surround the mouth as well, and serve to drag anything the Stalker comes in contact with, be it an ice-eater or a luckless miner, into its mouth.

GLACIAL PREDATION In order to conserve energy, Creeping Stalkers remain motionless while hunting, lying in wait for days on end, until they are covered with a layer of frost and drifting snow. They are lacking eyes and most xenologists in the Expanse believe they detect the approach of prey through the faint electrical fields most living creatures generate. Humans, being larger and far more physically active than most life forms native to Lucin’s Breath, have extremely intense fields even when shielded by layers of protective clothing and armour. When it detects prey the Stalker slowly closes in on its prey until it is within killing range. Once properly positioned, it bursts into activity, burning decades worth of stored energy in a matter of moments and moving so quickly its body steams from the exertion. As the Stalker flows from its hiding spot under the snow and ice to attack, its primary weapons are the lashing quartet of tentacles. Victims hit by a tentacle are quickly wrapped up and pulled back to the mouth, which secretes acidic enzymes to absorb as many nutrients as quickly as possible. Struggling targets are lashed by additional tentacles until they are sufficiently weakened. Once the target stops moving, it is crammed into the mouth with one pair of tentacles, while the other pair quest for additional prey. If none is available, the Stalker settles down, becoming one with the landscape and building up energy reserves as it digests its prey. If the meal is of sufficient size, the Stalker may reproduce through binary fission, taking a year or more to divide into two smaller but fully-grown Stalkers.

STALKERS ON OTHER WORLDS While the Stalker seems uniquely suited to the impossibly cold biome of Lucin’s Breath, other disturbingly similar creatures have been found on other worlds. Adapted to far warmer climates, they prowl underhives, the lower decks of void ships, the fetid swamps of feral worlds, and similar locales. There is much debate as to whether this represents parallel evolution or artificial breeding programmes by parties unknown. The skins of Creeping Stalkers, provided they are kept at reasonable temperatures, are of value to collectors of exotic lifeforms. Even more so are the Stalker’s crystalline teeth, which are in great demand among the aristocracy of certain planets as ornaments and art objects.