by T. M. Catron
He was going to be the commander, Dar Ceylin. Maybe he would, to prove his own loyalty. The truth hit me like a train—Calla wanted the job. “This is your play for Doyle’s position. You want to prove your loyalty by bringing me in. But I’m not going back.”
She smiled again, showing two rows of perfect, white teeth. “You don’t have a choice, Morse. I am going to take you back personally.” Her voice was quiet, sinister.
“For failing my mission?”
She shook her head and patted the knife at her side. “You’ve done so much more than that. Was the human so important? You’ve disobeyed the most important command.”
I circled around, keeping two arms’ lengths away from Calla. “You don’t know that.”
“Don’t lie to me. Condar will get the truth from you although I would love to do that myself.”
“I’m not going back.” Toral was here. Just inside. But I couldn’t go get her. I would have to leave her there.
She doesn’t belong with you anyway.
“How’d you find me?”
“Used the adarria aboard the Nomad. When you didn’t report in, they created a new sequence for tracking the hybrids.”
They’d turned my own ship against me.
“All of them?”
“Yes. But you are the only one Condar is seeking.”
“I’m not going back!”
“You like being a human so much?” Calla asked. “You’re a bigger traitor than I thought.”
I assessed the situation, tried to detach long enough to be analytical. I wasn’t going back, but I couldn’t overpower Calla. I could tell just by looking at her that she wanted me to rush her, to charge. In another lifetime, before today, I would have gone down fighting. But the fight had left me, just as Toral had left me. Fighting a hybrid sent from Condar would be suicide. So would going quietly.
I can fight until she has no choice but to kill me. Suicide at the hands of another.
But no, I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. I had caused my wife’s death, none other. And I would end myself. Just not on Calla’s terms. I would not return to Condar.
The dragon’s fire burned through my heart, and I took a step back. I was in no condition to fight anyway. Did Calla know what effect killing Toral had had on me? Maybe she guessed because she moved closer, keeping me within striking distance. I stepped back again.
“Coward,” she spat.
“She was innocent in all of this.”
“There are no innocents.”
I pictured Toral laying on the bed, the charge stick beneath it. Her body would be destroyed. Maybe this was better. No one would have to find her splayed out across the bed like that. She should be remembered with life flowing through her body. The smile on her face.
I set off the charge stick with my adarre. The house exploded in a rain of fire and wood. I ducked as Calla was flung forward off her feet.
Then I turned, and without another glance back, I ran.
V
Tanzania
34
Absolution
I was going to kill myself. The question was: what method would inflict the most punishment? I wasn’t afraid of pain—no pain could be worse than the fire-breathing dragon inside my body.
I fled to Africa—Tanzania and its grassy plains.
I would starve myself. It was the slowest form of torture I could devise. After I died, wild animals would tear apart my body. The end seemed fitting—a body designed by Condar, containing a fraction of its DNA, eaten by a lowly Earthen scavenger.
I let the sun burn me. I didn’t drink anything. Didn’t eat anything. Soon hunger pangs crept through my body. Then they disappeared. My skin healed quickly, never allowing me much pain from the exposure, but after a month, my healing slowed. As my body gave out, the dragon grew. The pain overwhelmed me at night, forcing sleeplessness on me. I welcomed the increased suffering.
Two months after my hunger strike began, I sensed someone following me.
Calla had found me, then. If she caught up with me, she’d take me back to Condar where they would restore my body to be tortured again. In some detached portion of my mind, I wondered what had taken her so long to find me again.
All I had to do was stay ahead of her. The end would come soon enough.
But I didn’t know how far away death was. A hybrid’s body can endure extreme lengths of time without food. If a human could go two months, would I go six?
To hurry the process, I stopped drinking even water. I considered killing myself in another way—I would before she caught me. She wouldn’t have the satisfaction of taking me alive.
35
Ending
Today, I want to die. I deserve death, crave it. And yet, I run away in fear of the hunter who would pull me from Earth and give me to my masters for execution.
Instead of waiting for Calla to find me, I take a deep breath and press on, forcing one foot in front of the other in a desperate attempt to flee. Direction doesn’t matter. Yellow grass stretches in front of me like a dry sea. Beyond, mountains rise to meet the sky. Beyond those, nothing but blue. The scene is empty and lonely, an echo of the sad, hollow feeling inside my chest.
A breeze blows through the grass and soothes my sunburned face. The air is warm and welcome. Tanzania is beautiful—wish I had come here with a better purpose. The wind brings relief to my skin but doesn’t extend to the bitterness and guilt in my heart.
My stalker, Calla, is close. I don’t see or hear her, but her anger rolls ahead of her like a powerful wave of fury. She loathes me.
Ten minutes, maybe less, and she’ll be here.
My body is weak, depleted. I sink down beneath a lone acacia tree, embarrassed to be seeking cover from the scorching sun. Why won’t I just die?
Today might be the day if Calla finds me. When she does, the death I receive as a penalty for my betrayal will be swifter than the death I have chosen for myself.
Run, Morse.
I can’t.
Five minutes.
Funny how the very person I’m avoiding is a means to the end I am seeking. But death has to be on my terms. I won’t let my masters steal my precious memories of Toral. And they will if Calla finds me.
Desperate to remain master of my own fate, I tug on my pant leg to expose the combat knife strapped to my calf. The scabbard has rubbed my skin raw. Wounds have bled, caked, opened, and bled again. My fingers struggle to undo the straps.
This knife used to remind me of my masters and my duty. The metal is not of Earth.
I’m not of Earth, but I wanted to be.
I’m an alien-human hybrid, manufactured in a Factory and trained to kill—swiftly and mercilessly. Except for the adarre, I look human. Although I look human, I’m supposed to act and think like the Condarri, the race of giants who made me. I’m their slave, created for one purpose—to annihilate the human race.
And I was prepared to complete my mission or to die trying. Until Toral crossed my path.
The race of Condar wants Earth for itself.
Now, I can’t give it to them.
Because I am human.
36
End
I sit against the acacia tree waiting for death. It is close.
FOUR MINUTES.
My body is weak. I can’t even summon the energy to take a deep breath. Maybe hybrids don’t starve any slower than humans, after all. The dragon rises near my heart, squeezing it with its claws. Is it trying to prod me into running, or is it anticipating the end?
TWO MINUTES.
A breeze stirs the grasses, bringing with it Calla’s scent. I turn my head toward her. She must be hiding in the tall grass. A flock of guinea fowl caws loudly. Some fly into the air. Some run. As they scatter from their nesting place, Calla rises from their midst.
I reach again for the knife still strapped to my leg.
ONE MINUTE.
Calla strides toward me, her short hair blowing in the wind. Her bronzed skin glows in the
sunshine. She stands over me, and a look of disgust crosses her features.
I give up trying to remove my knife. Even if I could get it out, I wouldn’t have the strength to use it against myself or her.
A protest rises on my lips, dying before I can force the air out of my lungs. Suddenly, Toral stands there instead of Calla. Her sweet face with its long scar smiles down on me. Where did the scar come from? She never told me.
I didn’t have enough time.
Toral shifts and Calla appears again in her place, grinning in triumph.
I meet her eyes, one question forcing its way out of my foggy brain and into the air.
“Why?”
Author Note
I hope you enjoyed reading Hybrid. This book began as a short story in 2016. After two weeks of writing, I realized I needed a novel to tell the whole story. I sat on the finished manuscript for a long time, mainly because the story is darker than I am used to writing. In the end, though, Morse’s tragic tale is one of my favorites of the Shadowmark series. I wanted to tell it.
Hybrid is a standalone spinoff novel, but Morse’s story isn’t quite complete. If you wish to find out more about him and the alien invasion, check out the main series, beginning with Shadowmark. You’ll learn more about Doyle, Calla, and a bunch of new characters, too.
Now that you’ve finished the book, would you leave a review? It will only take a few minutes of your time, and it helps get the word out about my books. Passing on the word to your friends via reviews, social media, and personal recommendations is the best compliment you can give me as an author. I deeply appreciate your help.
You can get another Origins story, The Mine, free as a download. I’m also giving away another story from my space adventure fantasy series. Join my Inner Circle to get them: http://tmcatron.com/join
Thanks for reading!
T.M. Catron
Also by T.M. Catron
The Shadowmark Series:
Shadowmark, Book 1
Aether, Book 2
Glyph, Book 3
Book 4 (Early 2018)
“Sasquatch,” Phoenix Force Anthology
The Mine, A Shadowmark Origins novella
Hybrid, A Shadowmark Origins novel
The Star Streaker Series:
#1 Solaris
#2 The Deliverance Code
#3 Defiance
#4 Prometheus Rescue
“Machinations,” Bluebeard Anthology
Standalone:
“Melting Point,” Cyberwar: Digital Battlefield
As Wilhelmina Kirk:
“Winter’s Goblin,” The Goblin and the Grocer Anthology
“Flight,” Prime Peeks Anthology
Acknowledgments
So many people were involved in helping to get this story out there.
To Hayley, Courtney, Carina, Paul, and Nathan—Thanks for reading and being willing to give me feedback.
To the D’s, thanks for the beta edit, beta read, and the critical feedback to make this story better.
A big shout out to the Phoenix Prime crew for their support, advice, feedback, editing, and occasional kick in the pants. Without them, I would not have finished this book.
As always, thanks to my hubby for putting up with me while I hide away writing. You mean the world to me.
About the Author
T.M. (Tiffany) Catron spent her childhood looking for hidden worlds in the back of her closet. When she didn’t find any, she decided to grow up already and write them into existence.
She’s the author of the science fantasy series, Shadowmark, and the space fantasy adventure series, Star Streaker. Her stories tend to include strong female characters (or those who want to be strong) and fun, twisty plots. Although Tiffany primarily writes sci-fi, she enjoys a good story in any genre.
If she’s not watching Doctor Who or putting together Star Wars Legos with her son, Tiffany is imagining what trouble her characters can get into next. She’s a coffee-fueled writer of science fiction who believes challenge and opportunity can be empowering. Her books are adventures in gaining strength from adversity, and wisdom from growth. She’s trying to make the world a better (and more fun) place, one book at a time.
Tiffany lives in Tennessee with her husband, son, and three spoiled dogs.
To connect with her, visit:
tmcatron.com
Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/author/tmcatron
Facebook at facebook.com/authortmcatron
Twitter @tmcatron
Email [email protected]