* * *
Days passed, and they woke to find themselves still in separate cells, but now in a much larger room, at least forty feet long and half that wide. It had a tall opening, a window that had once contained glass, running its length. After the lab, the sunlight was nearly blinding.
“What’s going on?” Karilisan asked, shielding his eyes.
“Natural light is better,” the Wrogul’s voice came from the ceiling where, once again, multiple pipes ran the length and breadth of the room. “Now that Srentaal is in a more advanced stage of pregnancy, we want better light, yes? Better for the brood…”
“What do you mean, ‘advanced?’ It’s only been a few days,” the Zuul protested.
“Actually, it’s been thirty-five days. You were…unconscious for part of it. Plus, I’m helping her along. A normal Besquith pregnancy would last most of a year, and I’m not that patient. I accelerated the growth before I even implanted the embryos. I’ve also designed a hormone cocktail to help things along. It won’t be great for her, but it’ll work out.”
A low growl had begun building in Srentaal’s chest. It burst out in a howl as she threw herself against the bars of her cell, scrambling to reach the Wrogul. “I’ll kill you!” she screamed. The bars vibrated under her assault. “I…tear…eat you…” As her anger waxed, she grew more incoherent, finally attempting to bite through the bars with her massive jaws. Suddenly she stopped, her eyes glazed. The growls and snarls lost their power as she began to slide down the bars. “Kill…you…”
The Wrogul observed dispassionately from his perch in the pipes as the Besquith folded into a heap, unconscious. The Wrogul turned an eye to Karilisan. “Obviously I’ve had the same access to her and her ‘plants as I’ve had to you. A simple matter to administer a little sedative to calm her down.” He seemed to think about it a little more. “You know, I hate to admit it, but you may’ve been right.” He turned his full regard to the Zuul. “Besquith are always psychotic, but you add the damage to the parietal lobe on top of that? It might have been worth it to repair the damage, or do some work suppressing the amygdala. That would have hobbled the reaction, minimized it. In her current state? If she had anger issues before, well, they’re nothing compared to what’s going on now.” He considered a moment, then sighed. “No, too late to fix. Any intrusive measures would risk the pregnancy, and I don’t want to start over. We’ll just have to get through it.”
Crossing back to the Zuul’s cell, he returned to his previous topic. “We were talking about the timeline. Between the work I did before the implantation and the assistance I’m giving her now, I expect we’ll be looking at delivery in about three months. If I had to really get fine-tuned on it, probably just a little less. Part of this will depend on the viability of the pups. Besquith generally throw about five to seven, but I put in ten fertilized embryos. I don’t expect them all to go to term, but the more that do, the more likely it’ll be sooner rather than later. With that in mind, we’ll need to set up a nest or, what do you call it? A den? This room will serve. But as the daddy, the least you can do is help. I’m going to allow you out to assist me, but don’t get any ideas. In fact, let me remind you…”
A tickling itch started in the Zuul’s stump. It rapidly became painful and suddenly…stopped.
“Like I said, between the nanites and your ‘plants…” The Wrogul paused. “It would be the simplest thing in the world to fry your mind with the pain, so it’d be best for everyone if you refrained from any stupidity.”
* * *
It had taken weeks, but the room was becoming much more livable. Initially, Karilisan would wake to find a stack of extruded clear plassteel, and he worked to replace the window panes. He hated this task from day one when he realized they were being held in the upright base of the broken tower. A wave of vertigo washed over him every time he looked out over the 100 feet of empty air between him and solid ground. His skin crawled when he looked out the windows, and struggling to position the plassteel with only one hand left him exhausted.
The Wrogul tasked Karilisan with other jobs around his lair. He would remove food waste, dispose of broken lab equipment, perform maintenance on the hydroponics bay, and other dirty tasks the Wrogul didn’t want to do. But it was while doing these chores that Karilisan found something that convinced him they had a chance of escape.
He was pushing a cart down a hallway when he stopped at the open door of a small room and noticed a pile of machined metal and electronic debris. At first he wasn’t sure why he’d stopped, but like a blurry picture coming into focus, he suddenly realized the lettering on the metal plates was Besquith script. This wasn’t ancient, broken tech. This was material recovered from the camp. After a glance down the hallway to make sure he wasn’t being observed, he stepped into the room to try to search for something—anything—useful.
He was sorting through a box of loose wires when he saw it. Partially concealed under a shred of a tarp, the thin rectangle filled him with the first real hope he’d had since his capture. His slate. A familiar discoloration down one edge, the result of a plasma circuit shorting entirely too close when he was repairing a LIDAR emitter, confirmed it. He grabbed it, concealed it under his shirt, and returned to his cart.
Several days passed before he had an opportunity to examine his prize. The Wrogul had announced that he needed to acquire some samples of local fauna to further his experiments. Since he didn’t trust either the Zuul or the Besquith while he was out, they would be confined to their separate cells for the day.
Karilisan waited for more than an hour before he felt confident the Wrogul had truly left. He pulled the slate from its concealment, hunched himself into a corner, and draped a blanket over his shoulders to block his actions from the camera.
He remembered the Wrogul’s reaction the first time he’d tried to access his slate and manually deactivated pinplant access. He then disabled non-manual input and limited output to the 2D screen. He’d spent several days thinking about his best course of action, and he began to construct an infiltration program that would allow him to quietly snoop on the Wrogul’s network. Once he knew its shape, he could hack his way into it.
The Wrogul was brilliant, but his intelligence was specific. He was a master of biological and life sciences, yet his network equipment seemed to be generic rather than purpose-built. His investigations into recovered Great War artifacts seemed to rely on examination of the object, followed by extensive search protocols through a Galnet database seeking similar items. He was a tech user, not a developer, and that reliance on off-the-shelf solutions had made it simple for Karilisan to initially detect the Wrogul’s camera and then crack the security that had been placed on it. After working with the Wrogul over the last weeks, he suspected the network would have a single significant defense, but once past that, access would be open. The infiltration program he had in mind wouldn’t be greatly different from some of the diagnostic tools already on the slate, just much, much harder to detect. First he’d build the program, then he’d worry about how he was going to plant it on the network.
* * *
About a month later, the ‘den’ was complete. Karilisan had cleared the debris and replaced all the windows. With the limited equipment the Wrogul had provided, Karilisan had been forced to use a chemical bonding agent that would need months to fully set, rather than a fusing tool that would bond the window to the frame at a molecular level. The Wrogul had stated the local climate was quite mild, and he felt little need to expend materials for anything stronger or faster.
His last task had been to run two additional cameras that focused on the area where the Wrogul expected the birthing to occur. He carefully adjusted the angles to ensure that, with their limited panning function, they wouldn’t be able to observe his cell. As part of the work, Karilisan had been allowed access to the data runs and associated equipment. The Wrogul, confident of his complete access to Karilisan’s pinplants, felt there was no danger in allowing the Zuul to work
on the network. If Karilisan hadn’t found the slate, he’d have been right. Once he had the parasite leads, he’d be able to directly jack into the data runs and insert the slate behind the network’s primary intrusion defense. There would be almost no chance of detection.
* * *
About a week later, the Wrogul addressed Karilisan.
“I don’t think this first batch is doing well.”
“What?”
“The pregnancy. I don’t think it’s going well,” the Wrogul repeated. “Of the ten implants, several seem to have stopped growing, and the ones that are, well, they aren’t growing very fast.” The Wrogul was silent for most of a minute. He came back across the room to regard Karilisan. “We’ll see what comes of this litter, but I don’t think your genes are adding too much to the mix. I’m going to have to go back to a purer strain for my little project.” With that, he left the room.
After a few moments, Srentaal rose from her pallet and looked across at him. “Be careful, Karlsan…” She rumbled, slurring his name. “You are pack, must protect pack.”
“I don’t understand…”
The great Besquith pressed her forehead against the bars. Despite the time that had passed since their capture, she’d spoken very little, the damage to her brain making it difficult to find the right words. “Did you not listen?” She paused, looking into the Zuul’s eyes. “The Wrogul said you are not useful.”
* * *
A few days later, Karilisan was woken by an insistent buzz. Apparently the Wrogul was going to remote in today. He got up and stepped out of the cell, where the camera could pick him up.
“What do you want?”
“I have some things I need to do in the main lab,” the Wrogul said, “but I want you to organize some of the gene samples I left there last night. If you look over at the long table in front of Srentaal’s cell, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
He moved to the indicated table. “I see them. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Well, about that…” came the Wrogul’s voice.
There was a faint buzz and click behind him. As he turned, he saw the door to Srentaal’s cell swing open. The Besquith started to rise. “Wrogul, Srentaal’s cell is open.” Karilisan said quietly, his instincts screaming.
“Yes. And she’s likely to be quite angry,” the Wrogul said in an insincerely sad voice. “I’m afraid her limbic system and amygdala have been stimulated by her malfunctioning pinplants all night, and she may be beyond control, but let’s see what happens.”
Srentaal suddenly lunged forward, and the Zuul barely evaded her grab. He dropped to the floor and scuttled to the other side of the table, hoping to keep its mass between them. When he came back up, he was looking directly into the maddened eyes of the Besquith. “Srentaal! Get a hold of yourself!” he cried out. Again he had to dodge, as massive claws ripped through the space where his head had been. Srentaal’s low, gurgling growl followed him as he ran toward the door.
“Ah-ah-ah, my little Zuul! The doors are locked. You’re trapped in there with the raging Besquith! Maybe you can take her! Make a fight of it!” the Wrogul’s voice taunted from the speakers. There might exist somewhere an exceptionally large and dangerous adult Zuul who could take an exceptionally small and weak adult Besquith in hand-to-hand combat, but that hardly mattered. Karilisan was not that Zuul, and there were no circumstances where Srentaal could be mistaken for anything other than extremely dangerous.
Karilisan looked for anything to use as a weapon, but there was nothing. Behind him, he could hear the lab table and other equipment crashing into walls as the enraged Besquith threw objects out of her path. In a fit of desperation, he dove into Srentaal’s cell, hooking the door behind him. He turned to try to brace it, and the Besquith bounded forward. She stopped, reached one hand to the bars, and wrenched it open with such force Karilisan felt like his arms were being pulled from their sockets.
She stalked into the cell and backed him into the corner. He raised his arms, but she swatted them down with numbing force, wrapped both hands around his neck, and lifted him off his feet. The claws on her thumbs cut into the muscles around his neck and collarbone as she forced his head to face her. Looking into her eyes, he saw the black pits of her pupils had all but consumed her irises. She panted hard, drool slavering between her fangs. Rage played across her face, her lips drawn back revealing the jagged teeth of an alpha predator. She trembled with suppressed effort.
“N-no,” she gritted out. “Nooo! Pack…you. Are pack…” She paused, swallowing. “Pack…before…wolf. Must…protect pack.” She continued to breathe heavily, spittle flying out of her muzzle. “Pack,” she said again. He felt his feet touch the floor as her claws withdrew, and a trickle of blood flowed down his chest. Her hands relaxed, now just resting on his shoulders. He looked into her eyes again and saw tears. “Mother said protect,” she whispered.
“How interesting,” came the voice from the speakers. “I honestly thought she was going to eat you, Zuul.” The speaker clicked off.
“It’s no good,” Srentaal whispered. For once, the words seemed to flow. “He’s in my head, in my ‘plants. I can never be free. Even if we could escape. No matter where we ran, he would still be in our heads. We must kill him here, or die.”
* * *
Karilisan was woken by grunts and whines coming from the other cell. “Srentaal…what is it? Are you all right?” he whispered across the gap between the cells.
“It…is time,” came the hissing response.
In his sleep-befuddled state, he failed to make the connection. “Time? Time for what?”
The lights came up, and the Wrogul swung into the room. “You’re an idiot,” he said flatly to Karilisan. “Labor has begun, a bit earlier than I expected, I admit, but since this is the very first instance of a Zuul-Besquith accelerated pregnancy, I think I can be cut a little slack.”
“Wh-what?” Karilisan stammered.
“You know, I’d read that the males of many species are often stunned insensible during the birthing; I just never expected to witness it,” the Wrogul said, one eye regarding the Zuul with faint contempt. “Snap out of it, idiot. You might want to be useful here.”
There was a buzz and two clicks, and the doors to both cages swung open. Srentaal started to get up, but the Wrogul said, “I don’t think so. In fact, it might be better if you were a little more relaxed for this.”
One hand rose to her neck, and Srentaal slowly lowered herself to the floor, her eyes becoming glassy.
“I only hit her with a little sedative,” the Wrogul said. “It’s better if she’s awake, but I don’t need her to get excited while I’m in here. She might do something rash. As it is, I’ll be able to use my pinplants to monitor her vitals, as well as trigger the nanites I have in her if we need to take any more aggressive steps.”
He paused and appeared to be consulting his link for information. “Things look good. I haven’t got clear readings on the fetuses, but everything else has been going well. Get comfortable, Zuul. Besquith labor can take a day or more.”
* * *
In the end, it took less than two hours.
Karilisan, utterly drained, leaned his weight on the bars of his cell, his head resting against them. In the darkness, he could hear Srentaal keening her grief. The birthing hadn’t gone well. Of the ten embryos implanted, eight had been stillborn, and another died soon after. As for the tenth…the little pup was a fighter. Smaller than a normal Besquith at birth, but clearly larger than a Zuul pup, it had come out mewling and struggling, as if trying to get to its feet from the moment it emerged. The Wrogul had perched in the pipes, watching. When it was clear that the birthing was complete, he ordered Karilisan into his cell and sedated Srentaal. He then gathered up all the pups, the one living and all the rest, and left the cell, closing the door behind him. When Karilisan saw that he was taking the live one as well, he struggled against the bars of the cell, but to no avail. The Wrogul left withou
t a word.
When Srentaal regained consciousness, she asked the Zuul what had happened. She knew she was no longer pregnant but could remember nothing of the event. Telling her had been among the most painful things Karilisan had ever done, and the news that one pup had survived only threw her into a deeper grief when she realized the Wrogul had taken it.
* * *
Karilisan began his work to escape in earnest. He completed his infiltration program and built the parasite leads he needed to jack into the network. Now all he needed was the opportunity.
He began to fear the opportunity wouldn’t come. The Wrogul had been absent from the den since the birth. While an occasional absence wasn’t unusual, Karilisan could only remember one time the Wrogul had missed two days in a row. Now they were on the fourth day. Karilisan had prepared for almost any eventuality, but he hadn’t considered they might be abandoned in their cells. On the morning of the fifth day, the door to the den opened, and the Wrogul entered. An autocart followed behind him.
“Well, it is interesting, and it still holds some promise,” the Wrogul stated as he assumed his perch in the pipes. “Some of the desired traits didn’t take. The Besquith genetics…well, it looks like some of the chromosomal patterns overwrote the Zuul characteristics.” The Wrogul paused and looked at both the Besquith and then the Zuul, the disappointment evident. “But some traits took, so it’s not a complete failure, just—not the complete success we were hoping for.”
He keeps saying ‘we,’ Karilisan thought to himself, glaring. The Wrogul was the only willing participant in this nightmare; Srentaal and Karilisan were being used as source material for a twisted experiment.
The Wrogul sent the autocart over to Srentaal’s cell, and Karilisan saw that it carried a small, dark ball of fur. Srentaal stood, gently reached through the bars, and lifted the furball to her chest. She turned away, slowly beginning to rock and hum.
The Gates of Hell Page 12