Shifter Planet: The Return

by Reynolds, D. B.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see him shrug carelessly. “If you’re sure. I got better things to do than watch you fondle a fucking animal.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

  “Yeah, right. Like I’d trust an animal lover like you with our safety. You’d probably let him out to kill us all in our sleep.”

  Not a bad idea, she thought, but what she said out loud was, “You’re perfectly safe. He’d probably kill me to get to you, and I’ve no desire to die on this planet.”

  “Whatever. I’ll check back in a few.”

  Rachel waited until she heard the door close behind her, then she turned and eyeballed it just to be safe. Pulling out her stethoscope, she reached over the big cat and placed the bell of her instrument over his heart, listening. But as she listened, she leaned forward and said, “I know you’re awake. He’s gone.”

  …

  Aidan blinked a few times to moisten his eyes. The air in this damn ship was too dry. Mindful of the cameras, he didn’t move other than to slide his gaze sideways to regard the woman.

  “I’m Rachel, and I’m a doctor.” She smiled. “I don’t know how much you can understand,” she murmured, clearly as mindful of the cameras as he was, “but I think you know I won’t hurt you. Not like they did.” She grimaced. “At least, I hope you know that. Otherwise, I’m probably on the dinner menu.”

  He swallowed a growl at her comment. He didn’t eat people, for fuck’s sake. Not even slimy bastards who deserved to die, like the ones he’d already killed. This woman, on the other hand, seemed to be a friend, but he wasn’t taking anything for granted. After all, she’d arrived on his planet with the same people who’d captured him and killed who knew how many smaller animals. Not to mention the damage they’d done to the forest with their wild shooting. Not every tree on Harp was semi-sentient, but enough of them were that no one—not even the loggers who spent their lives deep in the forest—were allowed to cut down a tree without consulting a shifter first. The process was almost a ritual on Harp.

  Some of the trees damaged or destroyed by these Earthers in their admittedly successful bid to capture him had been aware and linked to the grandfathers deeper in the forest. He could feel their pain even through the metal and shielding of this damn ship.

  He wondered how long he’d been out. Mostly because he wanted to know how soon his cousins would descend on this fucking ship to destroy it and its whole damn crew. Except maybe the woman.

  “You probably feel like crap. That’s mostly the tranquilizer,” she was saying.

  She’d been bent over listening to his heart and lungs. Cute. He knew the workings of his body far better than she could judge with her medical devices.

  “You were slightly injured, though.” She slid her hand gently over his back leg.

  Nice. Go a little lower, honey.

  “I don’t think it’s broken, but…this might hurt,” she warned, only a second before she pushed down on the deep gash he’d suffered when a jagged piece of branch had jammed into his flesh during his headlong crash to the forest floor.

  Fuck! Had she said it might hurt? He growled a warning low in his throat, though he wouldn’t really hurt her. Not until he knew more.

  “Sorry,” she said absently, not put off by his growl and not sounding sorry, either, as she continued to examine the wound. “I’m sure I saw a foreign body in the wound before. I thought I’d need to extract it, but…there’s nothing there now, and this is already looking better. Remarkable. We’ll just keep that to ourselves, shall we?”

  Aidan grunted and moved his body slightly. She thought that was remarkable? Wait ’til she saw how fast he healed after the shift. She made a sound of surprise at his sudden movement, but there was no scent of fear. Apparently, she trusted him.

  “What’s…” she started to ask, a moment before she reached down to pick up something from the hard floor beneath his leg. There was a slight scrape of wood. “Huh. Your body must have expelled this on its own. That was fast. An adaptation to the local environment, maybe. Destroying foreign bodies to prevent infection. Fantastic,” she whispered. “Hell, magnificent. You have got to be the apex predator around here. If you’re not, I don’t think I want to meet what is.”

  Fuck apex predator, Aidan thought viciously. Shifters ruled the whole damn planet. An antiseptic odor filled the air, and something cool and wet touched his side. She was cleaning his wound. How adorable. There was no bacteria on Harp that could harm him, and shifters were immune to infection. But he was enjoying her game of doctor.

  He’d enjoy in a lot more in his other form. He purred to let her know how much.

  She laughed. “You purred. That’s so sweet.”

  He’d been enjoying the sound of her laugh, but scowled inwardly at the word “sweet.” He wasn’t sweet. Okay, yeah, he was charming as hell, and the ladies loved him. Huh. Maybe he was sweet.

  She touched his head cautiously, slowly letting her hand settle onto the curve of his skull, as her fingers began to caress his ears lightly. “You’re also beautiful.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  Her fingers dug into his fur, stroked all the way down his body, and back up again. “I can’t let them do this.” He could hear the tears in her voice, but all he could think was that he hoped to hell there wasn’t audio surveillance in this damn room, because the others were dangerous. He didn’t doubt they’d kill her if she caused trouble. “Don’t worry. I’ll work something out,” she promised. “And I’ll be back soon.”

  …

  Rachel gathered her things into her bag, then smoothed her hand over the big cat one last time, unable to resist touching him. He was so big and silky and hot. She wanted to explore every inch of him. But time wasn’t on her side. If she was going to swing a great escape for her new patient, it would have to be tonight, while everyone was off their game. The crew was still reeling from the day’s events, stunned at the loss of three of their shipmates and the severe injuries to Commander Ripper. The woman wasn’t dead, more’s the pity, but she was out of commission for the rest of this expedition, sleeping away in one of the med chambers that would eventually diagnose and repair most of what was wrong with her. But that would take weeks.

  On top of whatever grief the crew was feeling for their fellow soldiers, Ripper’s absence created a huge hole in the chain of command. One of the those killed had been Ripper’s executive officer, and the survivors were still struggling to decide exactly who was in charge. Or, more likely, who wanted to be in charge of a mission that had turned out to be far more complicated than the simple hunting trip they’d planned.

  Mind you, no one had suggested aborting the mission altogether. Not yet, anyway. If they somehow managed to succeed in what, for them, had never been anything other than a hunt, there was simply too much money to be made. Someone had funded this every expensive and dangerous trip. It couldn’t have been Wolfrum by himself. No one person could manage an expedition this costly. And that meant the backers, whoever they were, would reward results.

  Rachel could hear the crew arguing about it down in the mess hall while she hurried back to her cabin, their voices loud enough that she didn’t even have to pretend not to listen. They were all in agreement that the best course was to carry on with the original plan—a plan that, she now discovered, called for the capture of six big cats in total. The flaw in their planning was becoming glaringly obvious, however. One cat had killed three of their crew and sidelined their commander. Capturing five more was going to require significant modification of their hunting techniques. But no one seemed to know what that meant.

  Rachel didn’t care about their problems, however. She was no longer a part of their mission. She had one of her own, and it included two very simple goals. First and foremost, she had to free her furry friend from captivity. Once that was accomplished, she was determined to find Dr. Wolfrum and discover just how deeply he was implicated in this illegal hunt. That
was going to take some time, however. Harp didn’t have even a basic communication network, so finding Wolfrum would mean physically searching him out and confronting him directly. Only she’d have to do it on a planet where she’d never been before, with virtually no information on the massive green belt she’d have to traverse, and a weapons restriction that literally took her back to the bow and arrow stage.

  Rachel had confidence in her ability as both a tracker and an explorer, however. She’d led plenty of “adventure” treks, where the thrill was to navigate a dangerous planet with primitive weapons. Not to mention the many newer planets she’d visited which restricted visitor weapons, albeit without the unique environmental dangers of Harp. But she could do it. She would do it. She owed it to Harp and the scientific community at large. This travesty couldn’t be permitted to stand.

  Back in her quarters, she locked the door then stood there a moment, looking around, inventorying everything she’d brought with her and deciding how much she could carry. She doubted she’d ever be coming back here once she left.

  Most of her clothes would be left behind, of course, and she rarely brought anything on these trips that had substantial personal value. There were no good luck charms or family mementos. Everything she packed was replaceable, other than her research. But even that was securely backed up via the same beacon packets that carried her personal communications to her parents. She could be brutally efficient when she had to be. She’d take her computer when she left, because it had all her research and most of her notes thus far about the planet. She hoped to be able to access it once she reached the city, but in any event, she didn’t want any of that information to fall into the enemy’s hands.

  She blinked, wondering when she’d begun to think of her former shipmates as “the enemy.” Probably about the time they’d begun killing everything in sight, then set out to indiscriminately tranq and capture enough cats to make them all rich. Or maybe even before that, when she’d first begun to suspect that this mission was not what she’d signed up for.

  “No time for this, Rache,” she muttered to herself. She could navel gaze about the state of the scientific world after she’d freed the captured cat and made good on their escape. She glanced at the clock and brought up the outside view on her comm screen. Harp was smaller than Earth. The sun set more quickly, and the night brought absolute darkness unless one of the planet’s three moons was in the sky. Tonight, it was so dark that the ship’s exterior view was a nearly perfect black. She switched to infrared and couldn’t help staring in wonder as the screen lit up with the wild color of multiple heat signatures inside the Green. She smiled, because all that life was on her side tonight. She’d heard Commander Ripper complaining on their first night here that the planet’s teeming life-forms made the infrared view nearly useless, not to mention creepy as fuck. Rachel hoped that Ripper’s observation meant that the crew no longer bothered monitoring for IR. It would make it easier for her and her patient to slip away.

  While humans required special cameras to see in the night, she was absolutely convinced that the big cat they’d captured had no such need. As a scientist, she had no proof that the animal was in any way related to earth felines, but his general appearance was the same, and his eyes, in particular, were remarkably similar. She’d have bet one of her PhD’s—the chemistry one, her least favorite—that her cat had the same high number of rods in his retina as an Earth feline, making his eyes extremely sensitive to low light and thus enhancing his night vision.

  As a mere human, she didn’t have a similar advantage, but she did have a small, but very bright, LED flashlight that she’d modified for use under similar conditions. It was no match for the cat’s natural night vision, but would permit them both to make their escape without the kind of light that could give away their position.

  As Rachel thought through these details, she continued sorting her supplies, separating everything into two piles—one to take and one to leave behind. Every weapon she owned—from her smallest knife, to the crossbow, and even the tranq gun—went into the “take” pile. She had no idea what she’d encounter in the forest and, while she wasn’t inclined to kill native species without reason, she was going to defend herself as necessary against animals of every stripe, including the kind that walked on two legs.

  She didn’t have to worry about packing basic survival gear. Her backpack was always ready to go, including the thin but sturdy bedroll strapped to the bottom. Tucked into the various pockets and compartments were a first aid kit, matches, and a water purifier, along with other items that she’d added over the years she’d spent trekking in wild places.

  Oddly enough, one of her more peculiar habits—one she’d been teased about over the years by friends who’d thought it bordered on obsession—was finally going to come in handy on Harp. And that was using paper maps. She always carried print maps of whatever area she was about to trek. In the case of Harp, she’d printed out an orbital map that Wolfrum had sent her, showing the planet’s massive green belt spreading out all around the only city. The polar caps were plain to see—one an arid desert and the other a permanent glacier—along with the northern mountains, where there was a second, smaller settlement hidden in the valleys and ravines. The detail wasn’t great, since orbital maps weren’t intended to be used on the ground, but Rachel had marked the intended landing site of their ship, and so figured she had enough data to find the city on her own. Her compass wouldn’t work, of course—not with Harp’s freaky electromagnetic field—and she didn’t have a star map of this sector, which would have been very handy. But if she traveled during the day, she could use the sun’s position as a directional reference.

  She didn’t need to look at her maps, however, to know that the planet’s only city was several days’ travel from her current location. She had the necessary conditioning and stamina for that kind of trek, and plenty of confidence in her own skills, but she’d nevertheless be on her own in an unfamiliar environment, which was always a risk. She already knew that all of her travel would be through the Green, and from what she’d read in the few reports and what she’d seen in her own limited explorations, there were few natural trails and no cleared roads of any kind. It would be rough travel all the way.

  She slid the folder carrying the maps into a side pocket of her backpack and then quickly loaded up the rest of her gear, switching her thoughts to the more immediate problem—how to rescue the cat. The passageways to the holding pens should be mostly empty, and if not…well, frankly, she’d simply tranq anyone who got in her way, giving them a little taste of their own medicine.

  Her first stop, however, would have to be the bridge. As a matter of protocol, it was manned around the clock, even when the only person available was a reluctant scientist. And while she harbored a faint hope that the survivors were all too busy licking their wounds to worry about bridge protocol, she doubted that was true. If anything, they might be even more paranoid about what might be out there, watching them. Forget the exterior cams—anyone on the bridge would raise the alarm the minute the hatch opened. So she’d have to take out whoever was on duty—hopefully by tranqing them, too—before making her way to the holding pens.

  Once there, of course, she’d require the code to drop the electric field and unlock the cage. That wasn’t a problem. Frank White thought he’d been so clever with his code, but it was only four digits. A smart ten-year-old could have figured out what numbers he was pushing just from watching his fingers move.

  As for the cat, by now he should be fully recovered and able to walk on his own. She suspected that he’d been far more alert than he’d shown earlier, which indicated a reasonable level of intelligence. But then, he was at the top of the food chain on this very dangerous planet, so that wasn’t surprising.

  In fact, her biggest challenge might be securing the cooperation of the cat himself. He’d been deadly against the crew out in the forest, but before that, he’d never been anything except peaceful and curious with he
r. And when she’d examined him in his cage, he’d seemed to understand she was trying to help him, that she was on his side. She only hoped he still felt that way.

  She zipped up the heavy pack and set it by the cabin door along with her warmest jacket. Her cabin was closest to the lower deck stairs, where the belly hatch was located. Rather than risk having one of the other crew see her sneaking along the passage in full gear, she’d free the cat from its cage and then grab her backpack and jacket on their way out. She was already wearing her heavy-duty trek boots, with their thick, ridged soles, and she’d chosen trousers and a long-sleeved stretchy top that were both the fleet’s latest cold weather thermal-wear. The day had been mild, but the night would be cold. If she got too warm, she could strip off layers. It was always better to be too warm than too cold.

  After a final look around the small cabin, she slowly opened her door, listening for any sign of movement. There was nothing. She poked her head out and looked quickly left and right. The passageway was empty, just as she’d hoped.

  Closing the cabin door behind her, she started forward, tranq gun half-hidden against her thigh. The ship was eerily silent, nothing but the ever-present hum of the heavily shielded engine on its lowest idle. Just enough to maintain environmental controls and other necessary things, like bridge displays, interior lights, and electrified fucking cages.

  She found herself tiptoeing, even though her cautious footsteps were nearly silent. As planned, she went directly to the bridge, pausing outside the open doorway to listen. A few soft pings and beeps emanated from the various instruments, but nothing out of the ordinary. She listened harder. Someone had to be there. Someone was always there.

  Finally, she detected the soft susurration of breathing, heavy and steady. She listened a moment longer then stepped into the open doorway. It was none other than Frank White, the bastard who’d taken such pleasure in trapping her cat in a cage, who’d sprayed gunfire through centuries-old trees with an unholy grin on his face. And now there he sat, sound asleep. Poor guy, all tuckered out from killing things. Asshole.