Fox followed his nose, weaving between undergrowth and trees, a silent predator stalking its prey. He got another whiff of Drahk musk…not close enough to cause alarm.
The entrance.
He forced his way through dense vegetation and peered out from behind a row of broad leaves on the edge of the hill. Bellow him, two heavily armed Drahk guarded a small metal door. Going by its size, it likely led to a maintenance tunnel.
At least this door isn’t used much, he convinced himself, noting few signs of traffic along the nearby road.
Fox waited a while, watching to be on the safe side. He scanned the clearing, watching for Drahk activity in the area. The guards stood motionless by the door, their rifles leaning against their shoulders.
They aren’t expecting anyone.
He turned back into the trees, searching for an area with good cover. Finding a spot he was happy with, he snapped a low branch from a tree and stripped most of its leaves.
Fox unclipped the Drahkrod and doused the remaining leaves with the Kydra taint.
He left the Drahkrod open and lay it against a broad tree surrounded by tall ground leaves.
He climbed several branches high into a tree opposite, ensuring he had a good view.
Happy with the set up, he returned to the forest floor and cautiously made his way back to the hillside. The guards hadn’t moved an iota.
He waved the branch, wafting the smell of Kydra in their direction.
The Drahk sense of smell was nowhere near as strong as a Vosans, and Fox was beginning to wonder if he was too far away. Or perhaps the jungle’s lazy air currents were acting against him.
The guards stepped forward, their heads snapping from side to side, their snouts sniffing the air ahead.
Overcome with insatiable desire, they suddenly broke into a run in his direction.
Shit!
He turned and scrambled through the bushes and vines, hurrying back to the Drahkrod.
As fast as he ran, Fox heard their claws scraping up the mossy litter not far behind as they closed in.
He threw the branch down next to the Drahkrod and scampered up towards his perch. In his hurry, he lost his grip and slipped, plunging through the air. He caught a vine at the last second and pulled himself into a waiting position. He rubbed his shoulder as he aimed the blaster at the Drahkrod.
The Drahk guards exploded through the underbrush, their mouths dripping saliva, their eyes crazed. They immediately attacked the area around the device, clawing and biting at their imaginary prey.
Fox pulled the trigger and one guard slumped onto the jungle floor, one leg twitching.
The other continued digging in the litter undeterred. He took aim. Something brushed his neck and he turned to find a snake coiling around his shoulder.
He screamed and brushed it away, losing his footing. He tumbled through green and brown and crashed to the ground.
He got to his knees and shook his head.
Breaking free of his frenzy, the Drahk turned to see what had caused the commotion, the airholes on its green snout flaring as it sniffed the air.
It’s eyes suddenly focused on Fox. It sprang at him.
Fox fumbled in the litter, looking for his blaster.
His mind flicked to the blade in the back of his belt. He wouldn’t stand a chance going hand to hand, even with a blade. He was a third smaller and weighed half as much.
His hands touched several creeping things before finding what he was searching for.
As the Drahk launched, Fox rolled under its swiping claws and snatched the blaster from the moving mound.
He twisted on his shoulder just as the beast descended on him and pulled the trigger. The Drahk crashed on top of him motionless, its stench making him want to puke.
He struggled out from under it, wiping moss and muck from his fur and armor.
A centipede crawled onto his chest and he jumped around like an idiot brushing it off.
A pain burned in his right shoulder and his right arm went numb.
He felt the Drahk’s claw marks. His arm had lost a lot of strength. The wound wasn’t bleeding too much but the bastard had obviously hit a nerve. He tried squeezing the blaster trigger again. His finger’s reaction time was too slow. Using his left hand was less than ideal but would have to do. He adjusted his holster accordingly before securing the blaster.
He pulled a can from his belt and applied a medical spray to his shoulder. The substance was so cold it burned, but it disinfected and closed small wounds almost instantly. The pain numbing was a bonus.
However, it didn’t do anything for nerve damage. He would have to get the injury seen to by a specialist later.
Fox fetched the Drahkrod and found that only a quarter of the Kydra juice remained; enough for one more use. He’d be in trouble when it ran out.
He looked back toward the ship, reconsidering his options once more. He regarded the dead Drahk and looked in the direction of the dome.
I’ve come this far. May as well carry on. If nothing else, I’ll rid the galaxy of a few Drahk vermin.
He rummaged through the bodies until he located the lizard-brain’s metal keycard.
Knowing it was only a matter of time before the Drahk realized their guards were missing from their posts, Fox hurried toward the doors all the while keeping a look out for danger. Seeing nothing coming from either side, he sprinted across the opening, holding his breath and praying no Drahk would suddenly appear.
He was amazed that he’d reached the door without further incident. He readied his blaster and swiped the keycard while crouched by the access panel.
The door clunked open.
He carefully looked inside. A dark tunnel stretched toward another door. His night vision eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw another door.
He slipped inside and the door closed behind, the gears crunching.
He kept low, noting the tunnel supports he could use for cover if things went wrong. He thanked the gods when they didn’t.
Fox tried to ignore the smell of Drahk mingled with subtle human and a few other species…one familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
He hurried to the end of the tunnel and discovered a recess to the left of the door. A ladder in the recess climbed to a hatch in the ceiling. He figured it would be less risky than the door and climbed, ignoring the burning pain in his right shoulder.
He turned a metal lever on the hatch and pushed it open a crack, shielding his eyes against the sudden light. It led to a low wall around the city outskirts. He climbed onto the wall and closed the hatch as quietly as possible, sniffing for any nearby Drahk. Satisfied he was alone, he moved toward the wall’s edge. The cooler air inside the dome provided some relief and he took several deep breaths as he peered over the low parapet with amazement.
The sprawling Drahk city stretched out before him all the way to the distant, vague dome panels opposite…much bigger than he thought…and more structured too. He’d expected a tangle of squat huts and the odd wooden building. The city was far from perfect, but it had a strange orderly quality uncharacteristic of the Drahk.
A crane operated in a storage yard not too far from the wall. Beyond that, most of the buildings in the outskirts were indeed formed from mud, but they were organized in tidy blocks. Several parks dotted the city, the unwieldy jungle vegetation manicured to fit in with the surroundings. The buildings nearest the city center stood tallest and were constructed from more sophisticated materials. A monstrous black spire dwarfed all other structures. Fox figured it was the Lord’s palace.
Small ships zipped above the cityscape as carts and ground vehicles streamed along roadways.
He picked out a row of black-domed buildings about two kilometers from his position. One sported a large, red sign above the entrance just as Corri had described.
A gentle breeze ruffled his whiskers.
Fox sniffed and detected hints of bleach and detergent mixed with human, confirming his visual. He
kept low as he walked the wall, his nose in the air.
His eyes scanned the city, picking out several possible routes to the factory. He discounted any that passed through dense residential areas or busy thoroughfares…anywhere with too many Drahk.
One Drahk is too many Drahk. He spat on the wall.
His calculations left him with two options: Stick to a network of alleyways in what looked like a quieter business district, or take the way with more vegetation cover. The alleyways route included what looked like a school and at least two busy roads. Though having more vegetation cover, the other route would take him by a large open park with nowhere to hide.
He slipped an illium coin from a pouch and flipped it in the air. Heads. That meant the alleyways. He cursed such poor options, but he could easily lose Drahk guards in the network of narrow passages…if it came to that.
By the gods, please don’t let it come to that.
He looked from side to side, making sure the coast was clear before dropping from the wall. He sprinted to a nearby stack of shipping containers, hugging them closely as he navigated the shipyard.
He was about to bound across an avenue when a nearby engine rumbled. He scooted behind a stack of crates as a heavy vehicle rolled by, its giant wheels ripping up dirt as it passed.
He waited for the engines to fade before peeking out from behind the shipping containers again.
Finding nothing alarming, he hurried across the avenue, sliding into the shadows of another row of containers stacked high. He pushed deeper into the container network, constantly on the look-out for danger, blaster in hand.
He reached a wire fence, and checked the road outside again. It appeared little travelled. Traffic zipped along the adjoining road on the far right…too far for anyone to spot him…unless they were looking perhaps. Wherever the road to the left led, few had reason to go there.
He clawed his way over the wire fence and dashed to the buildings across the road, welcoming the shadowed passage between two abandoned warehouses. He covered his nose as his nostrils were assaulted by an especially strong waft of Drahk waste.
Must be a water treatment plant nearby. It explains why no one comes this way.
Cupping his hand over his face, he slinked through the alleyways, ears always listening for signs of life. He didn’t find any…until he arrived at a busy intersection.
He hid behind a dumpster, watching the Drahk foot traffic pass the mouth of the alley as they went about their business carrying wares or herding children. A cart rolled by, dragged by two large lizard creatures—domesticated beasts—steered by a Drahk holding a whip.
He slowly approached the opening and looked either way, waiting for the traffic to die down…still unable to believe how civilized these Drahk were.
On the street to the left crowds of Drahk milled about, clicking loudly at some kind of market. A commotion at one of the stalls drew everyone’s attention.
Seeing his chance, he sped across the road to the alleyway opposite. Wind whipped his whiskers as the street blurred to a smear.
He skidded to a stop behind another dumpster and listened for trouble.
His shoulders sagged as he sighed. No one had seen him.
He continued through the network of alleys, following his nose.
A bang at an intersection caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end. He scrambled under a pile of trash, watching for the source of the sound…waiting.
Four Drahk younglings ran from a side alley, fighting each other with wooden swords, clacks echoing with every strike of the makeshift weapons.
Fox had never seen Drahk children before. He sniffed the air, noting how they didn’t stink anywhere near as bad as Drahk adults.
The children continued their mock fight in the cross alley, their skinny arms swinging and their bootless feet dancing.
They finally carried on down another side alley, and he waited for their sounds to fade sufficiently before climbing from the putrid refuse.
His nose bobbed several times before he picked up the scent again. He hastened down the alleyway the children had come from until he arrived at an opening.
He pressed his back against the dried mud of a domed building, its shadows ending mere centimeters from his feet. He held his breath as he edged closer to the end of the alley. If only he could make it to the park on the other side of the street. The exotic trees and bushes would provide perfect cover while he got a feel for the area.
The city din was much louder here, but the road beyond the alley appeared unused. He was about to pop his head out for a quick look when several human boys and girls trod by, pulling on ropes tied to a cart piled high with bolts of linen.
A Drahk rode the cart, snapping a whip at the kids, cutting new red lines into their tattered shoulders.
A boy cried out and stumbled to the ground. The cart stopped no more than a meter away. The Drahk climbed down from his perch.
Fox pressed himself against the wall as hard as he could, praying he would remain unseen. His stomach twisted in knots…at the thought of being discovered as much as seeing how these kids were being treated.
“On feet. Pull cart!” The Drahk growled in its harsh attempt at the human tongue. “I whip you more if your blood not stain sheets.”
He gestured to the bolts of cloth behind before climbing back onto his bench.
A girl with curly brown hair leaned down to help the boy to his feet. She pulled him upright onto wobbly knees and offered him the rope he’d dropped.
Fox’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
He sniffed deeply, careful not to make a sound. He looked to the girl again.
Sasha?
He inhaled deeply one more time. There was no mistaking her scent even if her appearance wasn’t quite so reliable. She barely resembled the girl in his file, her cheeks protruding more sharply and her eyes sunken into her skull…But it was Sasha alright.
And only one slaver with a whip standing in my may.
The cart rolled by.
Fox licked his lips as his fingers curled around his blaster.
He stepped out of the shadows, ready to bolt for the girl.
A crunch echoed behind.
He looked over his shoulder as another cart came around the corner.
Shit!
He leapt for a tree and scrambled into its upper branches, watching as the new cart came into view and the old one moved farther away.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
His fangs bit into his lower lips.
The new cart was pulled by a dozen human children, even more haggard looking. Four heavily armed Drag guards walked at each corner. Instead of cloth, it was piled high with crates.
Most be damn valuable to warrant plasma rifles.
The lid of one crate hadn’t been secured properly and hung ajar. As the cart drew closer, Fox caught a glimpse of the crate’s contents. Silver bars glinted in the sunlight. He could hardly believe his eyes.
Damn. That’s a lot of illium.
He scratched the fur around his itching scar. A single bar would cover his treatment and then some.
But what about Sasha? He watched as the linen cart turned a corner and looked back to the illium cart as it passed below. She can wait.
Judging the crate to be just within reach, he shimmied to the end of the branch. The guards kept their eyes on the alleyway as they marched.
He stretched out his hand and his claw-tips brushed the edge of the crate. He shimmied a little further, the branch creaking quietly as he leaned further.
Got it.
As he pulled the bar from the crate the additional weight caused the branch to snap.
Multiple colors spun around his head as Fox tumbled through the air, crashing into the crates. He landed in a pile of broken wood, leaves, and dust.
Two Drahk guards bore down on him, their rifles leveled.
4
Victory March
Kelvin walked through the bay, helmet under-arm, lost in thought. Several dock
-hands congratulated him on his way and he offered a half-hearted nod of thanks.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what Admiral Dyson could possibly want.
What was going on? How much shit am I in this time?
Showboating was frowned upon, but he won the Delta Games fair and square. Surely, the admiral would be pleased.
A bay door whooshed open. The sight of personnel in dark-green Delta Fleet uniforms lining the corridor snapped him out of his reverie.
He couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. He puffed out his chest and tucked his concerns away, for dealing with later. He marched forward, clasping hands with Atticus crew members.
Before Kelvin knew what was going on, two burly guards ushered him into a reception room decorated for celebration. Dozens had already gathered to receive the new champion onto the Atticus.
Claps and cheers rocked the room. He thrust his fist in the air. “Starship Atticus. Gold medal, baby!”
The cheers grew louder, and several officers approached, shaking Kelvin’s hand and slapping him on the back.
He glanced through the viewing port on his right. Starship Discovery hovered lazily several kilometers away. No doubt Lieutenant Boyd and his crew were celebrating too, but only coming in second must have sucked.
Kelvin inhaled, savoring the sweet taste of victory. Few things made him happier than being the center of attention. His eyes scanned the cheering crowd, picking out the girls, wondering which one he’d spend the night with. Or maybe he’d have more than one this time.
He picked out a young cadet with black hair and large blue eyes. She’ll do for starters.
As he marched forward, a crew member suddenly blocked his way.
“Hey, Lora what are you doing?” he all but yelled, suddenly realizing who it was.
“It’s Major Goff,” she hissed. Her eyes flicked between gathered crowds and Kelvin before she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Admiral Dyson wants to speak with you now.”
“Right now?” He caught the cadet’s eyes and she winked at him. “I’ve just docked. Surely the admiral won’t mind if I—"
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