Skhye Moncrief - [Feral 01]

by Feral Fascinations (lit)

  Or he purposely kept Darla tucked out of Voldon’s reach. Sounds like grounds for Voldon to ram fighter craft up The Seeker's ass. Kindrist shouldn’t take all the blame. And she’d hear that lecture very, very soon. Or was Goro’s reason a cover for something else? Maybe poking the commander might help a few more details rise to the surface. “Darla tried to kill one of your men.”

  “There is reason to believe Weatherford has his own agenda.”

  Jake’s gut sank.

  Not more premonitions. Keeping Goro talking might get him to spill his guts. “Free thinking coming back to burn your ass?” What else could an intuitive psychic say to jab the guy?

  “I have had my suspicions that cling to me like a phantom sucking Mawshwuc. You see,” he shot Jake an ominous stare, “I can’t scan Sevra’s thoughts and remain commander. But I can observe. The game free thinkers play is a dangerous one. We live each day struggling for one more moment’s free thought. Likewise, Voldon does to ensure he makes the only one! I can’t discount he has sent warriors to infiltrate The Cause. Are we doing any less? Why would I expect my enemy not to reciprocate? He matches me move for move.”

  Spoken like the field marshal. But toying with his words might reveal more about this commander. “You target their infants?”

  Goro snorted and planted his black boots beneath him like a disgusted stallion. “Only cowards attack the defenseless. No. We do not target their children. We merely disable their ability to enslave our children.”

  The stern look in Goro’s gaze reflected his distaste with Voldon’s flavor of tactics. And my gut isn’t balking. Why else would Goro confess all these things? He had to be for real. His cause true. But did it really matter? Fighting for humanity and for an unborn child required survival. Forget escape until the rest was part of history.

  “Work with Weatherford for me,” Goro said. “Get your bearings around him. Then tell me what you feel. We need your intuition for guidance.”

  Coming clean might work in my favor and result in earning this commander’s confidence. Whether or not he truly gets mine in return. Survival often relies on lies to obtain free-thinker’s freedom. Even if it’s only to breathe. “I came to ask for help understanding neural-network fortresses. I don’t trust Weatherford either. He’s a coward. Kindrist said the same of Sevra. I need another tutor I can trust to teach me what I can believe. I don’t like flying off into the unknown. Give me trustworthy tutor, and I’ll help you.” Not that his effort wasn’t for humanity or his unborn child.

  “I will secretly tutor you myself in exchange for the favor. Of course, we must deal with secrecy to prevent the crew from thinking I’m showing favoritism. And I think the best way to skin a were-wolf is keep another on hand to flay the first’s hide. I think Weatherford should accompany you to Gameddaron’s neural fortification.”

  When one door closes, another opens. Goro didn’t need to know I got exactly what I came for. A chance to sniff out the commander’s true purpose beneath his right wing. Jake nodded.

  * * * *

  Kindrist was stiff from assuming a meditation stance for hours in her quarters. The annoying hush of the air ducts challenged her to defy reality and venture out about the ship. To risk losing her patience and blowing up in a horrible display of unrestrained anger. Not to mention, the bench gnawed into her haunches like a hungry were-mate. If only Jake were in the room, things would be more interesting. Instead, waiting for destiny to unfold with a view of a nebula and stars was anything but entertaining. Maybe her perspective was wrong. Half full, the earthlings say.

  Half full.

  The Mawshwuc could still prove to be an asset to free thinkers. If free thinkers could determine whether the creature’s studies had produced offspring with viable hybridized blood, The Cause could hope for a new future. Or would using a hybrid Mawshwuc-earthling lead to more chaos by elevating fear among the free-thinking universe? Were free thinkers prepared for another level of psychic warfare?

  Goro had to have weighed the pros and cons of his choice in saving the vampire. What did he expect to gain? It wasn’t as if anyone could get inside his head to see. Not legally. Free-thinking law protected Goro. What would an intruder find inside the commander’s mind? Twisted ego? Or raw fear? Nothing else could possibly have pushed Goro into saving the thing that would bring ruination to the rest of the universe.

  Why am I thinking about this? Hormones. Curse the months ahead before the baby’s arrival. Kindrist shook her head.

  Something niggled at her subconscious about her honorable commander. Something untouchable. But what? Just what would drive a woman who had everything she wanted to doubting those she trusted most? Goro had saved her many times over. He was her big brother. Or her father. He wouldn’t fail her. Or The Cause. She straightened her spine, popping muscles and bone facets one by one, and focused on one bright star among the moving lights in the vast darkness of space beyond her quarters’ portal.

  A siren blared.

  Voices tore through the quiet peacefulness of her questioning thoughts.

  Mindspeak. A frenzy. Too much indecipherable chatter. She shook her head, closed her eyes, pushed and shoved with her mind, and tried to block the chaotic discussion.

  A presence shoved back. “Quiet,” Goro demanded in mindspeak inside the ship’s neural channel.

  The susurrus almost instantly dissipated.

  What now? A siren and the sound of fear only meant something bad unfolded.

  “The Mawshwuc has escaped,” Goro announced.

  And Jake was off studying for the mission. Would anyone bother to inform him of the vampire running through The Seeker? Damn, Goro.

  “Remain where you are,” Goro ordered. “All doors have been locked for your protection. I will see this animal is killed.”

  None too soon. But a good wife would protect her naive husband. She rose and stepped over to claim a foothold before her metal door.

  The hatch didn’t budge regardless of how much she willed it to beneath her splayed fingers and palms. She closed her eyes, pushing out, feeling for the signature electric tingle that indicated she could connect with the mind she needed among the sea of minds in the ship’s neural network.

  A tingle zapped her and vanished.

  “Commander?” she asked in mindspeak. He had to answer.

  A welcoming sensation opened to her. “Yes, Red Trekaar?”

  “Straightarrow isn’t here. He’s most likely still in Weatherford’s quarters.”

  “Vilest spit of Voldon, like I don’t have enough problems. Remain in your quarters, Red Trekaar. I will find him.”

  What else can the bearer of the universe’s hope do behind a locked door?

  But Goro’s actions would prove his loyalty. They had to.

  If he saved the Mawshwuc, he fought for Voldon.

  If he saved Jake, he fought for free thinkers.

  If he killed the Mawshwuc, he also fought for free thinkers.

  Who would Goro champion?

  Either way the solar system spun, irrefutable truth would sling for all to see.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Whatever you hear or do, don’t open this door,” Paul growled while turning to face the door.

  A step away from the suspicious edgy earthling, Jake watched the gawky Paul and his silent mate run through the doorway of their standard sterile and boring personal quarters into the white corridor beyond.

  So, this Mawshwuc was on the loose and caused a freaking lockdown? The door would lock if that was true. And there was no way out of this sardine can. He jumped into the doorway.

  The edge of the sliding door snapped into his chest and wedged him into position as if the hatch worked with Paul to keep him in place.

  Why would inanimate objects behave any differently than sentient beings on this cruise ship heading for war with shanghaied crew members? After Paul’s strange touchy behavior had amplified beyond nervousness over the past two hours, beads of sweat had poured down the man’s for
ehead. Blood lust at its best. They guy should have just sent me back to my quarters. Trying to juggle my sanity to save my miserable stud hide from Paul’s heedless nitpicking wasn’t easy. More like a game of Russian roulette with me sitting as the target and Paul’s wife holding the torch. But the earthling and his mate were now gone.

  The passageway hummed with an eerie unwavering sound.

  Where was the crew? Locked away? That was a tactical maneuver?

  Maybe standing here, pinned by a door, was foolish. All I need do is shove my way loose. What would a lesser-evolved psychic gain from having the opportunity to roam the ship when the crew quaked behind locked doors because a damned bloodsucker was free? And Kindrist was out there. Somewhere. Somebody had to do something. Especially with wimpy Paul out to save the universe. But were Kindrist and the child endangered?

  Hell, if Goro’s bad decision-making got Kindrist into a tight situation....

  And the last thing a man needed was his more-evolved wife being controlled like a puppet by some psychic bastard. Besides, all her non-reactive spunk was kind of nice. Familiar in a mercenary kind of way. Not that she needed to hear that. But there was a time and a place for sitting still. The moment demanded defying orders. Orders from goof Paul? Jake snorted, wriggled his fingers beneath the door’s stiff edge, and leaned into the tightness.

  The pinching force gave.

  The mass slid backward.

  He jumped into the corridor.

  The door swooshed shut at his heels.

  Locked out. Did security really matter in this foreign place? Especially when you were locked in anyway.

  Why cling to an alien ship for safety?

  Time to kick some creepy alien ass. Well, figuratively. Nobody had seen fit to outfit him with weapons. Hopefully, a sharp mind and honed reactions would be enough to ensure the woman carrying his child was safe. He took a step down the hall.

  A blood-curdling wail howled through the ship.

  What made the ungodly sound? The thing had to be a were-mate. Did that mean two or just one padded around the The Seeker? A vampire and at least one were-wolf. Oh, for the lost pleasures of ignorant bliss among the rest of a planet’s naïve population.

  A deafening roar shook the metal floor beneath his boots.

  Not good. Just what kind of strength did a distant creature have that enabled its roar to shake the floor? Maybe weaponless curiosity was a bit premature on new territory? With any luck, the beast will recognize me as an asset to the ship and munch on someone else. For blood? Shit. Kindrist owes me many times over for dragging my ass into this madness without my consent. And, now, somebody had to check on her. He stretched his stride down the corridor again.

  The walls curved on like a brightly-lit tunnel.

  Not to mention, the tunnel was oddly shorn of smashed twenty-ounce bottles or over-sized hamburger containers. A guy had to give extraterrestrials credit for cleanliness. Filthy alleys were anything but paradise. And this place didn’t reek of piss.

  An elevator-lift’s door appeared at the end of the meandering passageway.

  Just two levels up unfolded the path to his personal quarters. Would Kindrist’s door be unlocked? Too easy. But this game kept daring a man into action. He lengthened his stride.

  The hall seemed to extend, stretching.

  Somehow. Talk about a nightmare. Maybe I’m asleep. Or was the ship doing some kind of fancy deep-space maneuver like in all those space shows with warp drives and wormholes? He shoved his boot forward.

  His foot took forever to hit the metal floor.

  Everything unfolded in freaky slow motion.

  Why? Or rather, what was the coincidence? The answer had to lay in alien-abduction movies. Just what could the coincidence imply?

  The elevator door slid open.

  Shit. Not a good time to meet a Mawshwuc.

  A huge hairy dog-beast, larger than Kindrist when she shape shifted, leapt out onto all fours from the elevator and bellowed.

  Vibrations radiated up Jake’s legs from the quaking floor.

  The were-wolf didn’t look happy. Jake spun to return the way he came.

  The force making things unfold in slow motion wouldn’t allow him to turn away.

  A frail-bodied short creature sporting a large head and elongated bug eyes stared back at him.

  The Mawshwuc.

  Christ almighty and whore spy extraterrestrials. Talk about stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  His gut sank.

  Loss of an arm? Or loss of self-control? Better save my ass from the alien female who wants to suck my essence for Voldon instead of the blood-hungry were-wolf. He looked into the creature’s dark glassy eyes.

  He wanted to yawn.

  His eyelids became heavy.

  A yawn stretched his mouth wide.

  Poor thing.

  It’s female.

  Just pregnant. Like Kindrist.

  “Get back here, Straightarrow,” a woman barked from behind him.

  A deafening roar buckled his knees.

  Something grabbed his arm.

  He flew backward.

  A brown blur took his place in the hallway.

  What the Hell—

  A force slammed into him.

  He slid down a wall, hitting the floor hard, pain coursing through his ribs and shoulder blades.

  Every cell in his body screamed he stand up.

  His head shook and a rush of energy popped his eyes wide open.

  A woman in black leather glared down at him.

  Blonde. Sevra.

  “Get as far away from the elevator as you can before the vampire entrances you again,” she commanded.

  Entranced? Was that the Mawshwuc’s psychic power? He watched Sevra’s scowl while waiting for his gut to chime in.

  “Hurry before it collects Paul’s blood,” Sevra shouted, yanking out her torch. “You’re risking both mine and my husband’s freedom, human.” She pointed the torch toward Paul. “We’ll take care of that animal inside the elevator. Now, move.”

  Neither bloodsucking nor torching sounded like exceptional recreational activities on this involuntary cruise to see the wonders of the universe. He got his boots beneath him and shoved his aching body a few feet back down the hall.

  Standoff at Corridor Level 2 carried on with a few ridiculously loud roars while both creatures dared each other to make a move with unwavering stares.

  Sevra stood with a boot in the lift’s doorway and waited for whatever would follow, torch aimed as if she meant to toast her husband to save herself a few fleeting minutes of free thought.

  Great, I’m either toast or a deposit in Voldon’s blood bank.

  Paul’s beast form pounced.

  A blur of a struggle filled the empty passageway.

  Weatherford actually seemed more capable of moving mountains in his furry hide. Larger and definitely formidable. Maybe I was wrong to discount the man’s ability.

  Suddenly, the smear of motion paused.

  The were-wolf held the Mawshwuc by its unnaturally thin neck with what appeared to be furry human hands.

  The Mawshwuc faced forward, away from making eye contact with Paul.

  Better safe than sorry on Paul’s part, I guess.

  Paul walked upright on his hind legs, holding the Mawshwuc with clawed furry hand-paws at arm’s length and paraded the vampire down the hall as if it harbored a mean case of flesh-eating bacteria. The small alien didn’t struggle. Rather, she hung as if awaiting the inevitable from her balloon-like head.

  With the were-assassins’ reactions in this scenario, free Mawshwucs weren’t good. But, how had the vampire managed to escape imprisonment?

  Paul hurled the creature into the elevator.

  Sevra thrust the torch into the small space.

  The door slid shut until blocked by the torch.

  A bright light flashed.

  The Mawshwuc's ass was ash.

  The were-wolf turned to Jake and snarled, prancing or pa
cing a few steps toward him.

  Now, I’m going to die. Goro made the right call on this one.

  An arm swung a blade at Paul’s furry elbow.

  Who was the blade meant for?

  Paul’s gaze fixated upon the blade.

  Blood beaded upon the glinting metal.

  Paul ran a finger across the silver surface and thrust the remedy into his mouth.

  Blood, more like beastmilk.

  The beast’s furry skin began to fall off in clumps.

  The sound of footfalls echoed down the hall.

  Too late for the cavalry. Jake turned to find the black-cloaked commander arriving alone.

  Goro eyed the scene and locked a stern gaze upon Jake. “Everyone was ordered to stay in their quarters.”

  Guilty as charged. “I wanted to find Kindrist.”

  The commander eyed him warily. “Honor is one thing. But risking your and her life when she was safely secured within your quarters was foolish.” His gaze slid to Sevra. “Didn’t you tell him?”

  “He needs to learn to follow orders.” She almost snarled at Jake.

  Fantastic. Kindrist and I will be known as the flighty were-assassin couple. He shoved onto his feet. “For the record, I’m capable of taking care of myself. Keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “That remains to be seen.” Sevra scowled.

  A nude Paul collapsed on the floor.

  Exhaustion had to be the exchange for shifting form for duty. “Nice birthday suit. Thanks for saving my ass.” He thrust a hand out to shake Paul’s where the man sat.

  Paul shook the offering like a tired man. “I’d rather you hide out next time though. All this relay crap to communicate in a war zone is pretty damned frustrating.”

  At least, the aliens kept him in the loop.

  “Everyone, report to my map room.” Goro whirled and strode down the hall.

  By the time Jake stood among the twinkling projected stars hung inside the dark chamber, the bitterness in Sevra’s glare couldn’t be shrouded by the room’s darkness. The big chip on her shoulder stank like an elephant-sized pile of reeking dung. Was this the type of treatment a person got for disobeying orders? She should have told him what the commander said instead of muttering stay here. Problems definitely existed in passing on orders. But the obvious fact was these psychics just weren’t into archaic communication.