by PJ Schnyder
“Stay on task.” She told herself, there was a specific goal this day. Rygard took center stage in her mind and her cat aspect remembered the scent of him, while the human part of her mind recalled the feel of his hands on her skin. She needed to find him.
She arrived before the Kx9 team did. The dog had to wait on his handler, otherwise he might have kept up with her. Scanning the camp area, she took in the details of the attack. Tracks entered camp from game trails in every direction. Vines dangled down from the trees, ends torn. Ambushers had caught them all by surprise, coming in from multiple directions, especially above. The primates, or simians, on this planet excelled at tree-climbing according to the survey data Boggle had sent her and her additional research. Many nested in or travelled across tree tops. Humans didn’t, most of the time. Explained why Rygard’s team might not have detected them coming.
Her eyes fell on the communications tent, the canvas walls torn down on one side to expose the table where the equipment had been set up. Crossing the clearing in a few strides, she crouched down to study the area. Every sense expanded wide open, sight and smell, hearing and touch as she reached out with a fingertip to nudge a tuft of fur still attached to a patch of skin. Not human, it had to belong to one of the attackers. A sniff confirmed her conclusion and she pulled out a small sample container to collect it for analysis on the ship later.
Rygard’s scent was strong inside the tent. Not a surprise. Under duress, he’d surely had adrenaline pumping through his system and her nose couldn’t miss the lingering evidence of violence and anger. Very little blood was to be found anywhere on the ground though. Unfortunately, heavy traffic had packed the dirt into a hard floor, making any sort of useful tracks indiscernible inside the tent. A slow search around the perimeter revealed the direction they’d taken, and the crushed undergrowth and skids along the ground confirmed they’d dragged at least a few of the men away.
Glancing around, she heard Max and Tracer approaching. They were still a ways away. Neither would see her, but the dog would likely catch her scent trail. He wouldn’t waste time tracking her, not when he was given the command to track Rygard’s team.
Circling the perimeter, she located each of the points of initial attack. Several tracks came from the underbrush but some appeared in the middle of trails. At each of those points, one or several hanging vines hung overhead. The conclusion was obvious.
For a moment, she paused to look up into the trees. The branches spread out in a broad circle from every tree, creating a solid canopy over the camp. Part of the reason Rygard’s team had chosen the site had to have been the natural cover. Yet, she doubted any of them had climbed a tree to see how far up the canopy extended. But a human might not be able to make the climb bare handed. She could.
Just how much canopy was up there?
This jungle had to be very much like the rain forests of old Terra, with tiers of branches in the canopy supporting life at multiple levels. And the canopy would have been the fastest route to travel, to spy and to approach for attack. Now, it could be her fastest route to go after Rygard.
Still, her captain had given her an order, no shifting, not even a partial. If someone were to see her climbing one of the towering giants, there would be no explaining away the ability. The urge to take the fastest route possible warred with her need to follow orders. Dev’s orders were always for a reason and those reasons kept her human. Shit. She’d be going the longer way, which meant no more wasting time collecting evidence.
“I’m coming.” She whispered the words, directing them as much to the jungle as to Rygard.
Returning to the likeliest point, she began to follow the trail. His scent marked the ground and the broken plant life along the way. He’d struggled for a good distance. At one point a large portion of dirt had been scuffed up, maybe an attempt at escape. From there, the trail appeared to be a streamlined set of drag marks. They must have knocked him unconscious. She didn’t think they’d killed him. There wasn’t enough blood for him to have bled out and no trace of the urine or other bodily fluids that would have evacuated his body at death.
As intent as she was on the trail, she kept her senses opened to her surroundings as well. Too often, a hunter became prey to a sneakier assassin. The sounds of wildlife were in evidence this far from the ship, bird calls and insects chirping. The occasional rustling of leaves as a small mammal scurried away or a reptile slithered through the dead fall. All normal, none of them giving her early warning of danger approaching.
Still, she kept her knives loose in their sheathes and the gun Rygard had given her ready in its holster at her hip. At close range, it didn’t matter if she hadn’t developed a high level of marksmanship yet. Her target would still end up with a hole in it. She’d at least learned to have it at ready with the safety off when near immediate danger.
She followed the trail north, just as Boggle’s satellite images indicated, for quite a ways. Dusk surrounded her by the time she saw the signs she’d been looking for, hints that she was coming close to their stopping point. Dev had checked in with her twice already, so she paused to give one more report.
“I’ve got buildings.” Formal reporting never had stuck in her training.
“Eyes on them?” Dev didn’t worry about it either, not from her.
“Not yet. Artificial light and noise. I’m guessing a fairly large compound. Definite signs of regular perimeter patrols. These would’ve been in Rygard’s reports to his command structure.”
“Funny how it didn’t end up in the briefing.”
The comment wasn’t meant for her, though she could hear it, so she didn’t bother to answer.
“I want you to wait for back up.”
She growled.
“Too many, Kat. If it was just you, going in and coming out, it wouldn’t be an issue. There’s hopefully an unknown number of survivors. Best chance for success is to be team players on this one. Tracer and his partner are en route, we’re contacting the other units now.”
The urge to find Rygard drove her, but the logic her captain gave her stalled the beast impulse.
A shout rang out to her left and she flattened her body to the ground, letting the underbrush cover her.
“I heard that.” Dev’s voice was a murmur in her ear, hushed and patient.
The new disturbance was far enough away that she responded in a low monotone. “New capture.”
A string of curses carried out across the jungle, accompanied by wild chittering noises. She recognized the latter from the sound clips Boggle had provided her, and the former, she’d heard on the ship when the idiot lost his temper.
“Can I let them kill him, Captain?”
Dev’s sigh carried right through the communication line.
“Going silent.”
No time to wait for reinforcement and, as much as she hated Zec, the meathead’s capture might expose them all.
“Be careful.” Dev would keep his end of the communication line open for her call.
Clenching her teeth hard, she depressed the switch in her back molar, switching off the communicator. On her own now, and off to save someone who would definitely not appreciate it. He wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. She crawled on her belly through the underbrush, taking her time to stalk her new prey. The soldier provided the perfect distraction, even if he definitely hadn’t intended to get captured. He made enough noise to wake the dead.
“Hands off ya effin’ freaks!”
When she got close enough to see the uproar he’d created, she quickly took in other details of the compound. No fence on the perimeter and no sign of lasers, as far as she could see. Her least favorite person at the moment was being dragged by half a dozen primates into a space between the two largest buildings. They’d netted him, not a synthetic weave, from what she could tell, but more likely a natural fiber. He sh
ould have been able to slice himself free. They’d done a good job taunting him and distracting him, but it shouldn’t have prevented him from going for his boot knife. A closer look, and she realized all his weapons were gone from their holsters and sheathes. A lone primate walked into the clearing, burdened with a number of guns and knives. Well, that answered where they’d left his gear.
Humans, or at least more human creatures than the primates, stepped out of one building. None of them smelled right and the breeze was carrying their rank odor right to her. Animals, unless they were sick, smelled of musk but were clean. These smelled of refuse, booze and chemical recreation.
“What do we have here? A lone human?” The primates bowed their heads low to the newcomers, backing away from the speaker as he approached. He retained more of a human form than any of the others. Bigger too. Well, size mattered to determine dominance in any social structure, especially if intelligence was...lacking.
“Fuck off!” Zec had a fascinating opening response to a potential interrogation situation. She’d have to remember to try it sometime if she wanted her captors to immediately kill her.
“Oh no, we’ve got much better in store for you.” Ominous, or it would have been, if the speaker hadn’t scratched his rounded belly and belched. He made a strange sound at the simians crouched around him. “He can’t be alone.”
A slow realization dawned on her as she watched each and every one of them. Natural animals moved with a particular grace, having matured from birth with their physical attributes. These all moved in various states of clumsy motion, jerky and awkward. Worse than youths immediately after a growth spurt, unused to the sudden change in limbs grown overnight. She’d moved awkwardly, once upon a time, especially in the days directly after her escape from her captors. It’d taken years of martial arts training with Dev and Nibs to figure out how to use her body again with any kind of efficiency, much less grace.
Genetic mutations. Some more functional than others, but all of them had been infected with some form of virus like the one she’d encountered on Triton Moon Base. Her own personal nightmare multiplied in dozens of ugly permutations.
The dominant loosed a kick, sending one of the underlings rolling. “You and your damned sun! Bunch of cowards! Get out there and look for his team.”
Apologetic squeaks, still, not a one of those primates budged. Interesting. While he continued to bluster, threaten and otherwise intimidate the minions, she considered her options.
Chances were they’d take their newest prisoner to where they were holding any others. She needed to go with Meat Head and none of the buildings had any handy entry ways aside from the very obvious doors. Not knowing what time they had left before the leader sprung whatever he had in store for Meat Head she went for the least palatable of the options available to her.
Skirting the edge of the clearing, she remained out of sight until she reached a position upwind, then got to her feet. The gentle breeze wafted through her hair.
It took a minute longer than she’d expected, but a cry finally rose up from the higher-pitched, nervous primates.
“Well, go get ’im then!” The dominant roared profanity at them, driving them in her direction. “There’s still light right there. If you can’t do nothin’ else, so help me...”
She squealed as they boiled through the underbrush to get to her. Stumbling to one side, she let herself fall into the clearing before any of them actually had to hit her. Hands grabbed at her and she quelled the urge to slash at them with exposed claws. A mess of matted, dirty fur and gnarled hands filled her vision. Misshapen heads bent too close and she resisted the urge to bare her teeth. Fetid breath fell hot around her head and shoulders as twisted faces sniffed at her for too long.
“What are you all waiting for?” The leader better be careful or he was going to bust a vein or his vocal chords. Either one could be amusing.
Feigning bewilderment, she allowed them to grab and carry her across the clearing. Her chest tightened. It took every ounce of will to allow those little hands on her person, to seem weak as she struggled against their hold.
Something was wrong with these mutants. They should have noticed her lack of fear and her building rage. Maybe they were too new to sift through the meaning of the scents they were picking up. Still, they were taking in deep breaths, leaning as close to her hair as possible, distracted by something else in her scent. She hadn’t anticipated it, hadn’t seen them do it to Meat Head.
But they didn’t secure her. Aside from removing weapons, they didn’t bother to tie and net her the way they did the military man. They didn’t treat her as a threat at all. All to the good as far as she was concerned.
“What have we here?”
Musk choked her as the leader leaned close. Stupid man. He smelled more of cheap alcohol and sweat than carnivore. He might enforce his will over the weak simians but he didn’t do more than annoy her.
Hopefully he took the tremors in her arms and shoulders as fear. When he slapped her hip, she bet he took her jerk reaction as a flinch instead of the reality. She’d had to suppress the lightning desire to kick him in the face.
His awful breath reached her nostrils, the smell of arousal clogged her nose and throat. He didn’t seem to use his nose properly either, and he definitely wasn’t thinking clearly enough to recognize the danger lying meek in front of him.
Good.
“Fucking idiot girl. Knew you were worthless.” Meat Head had no idea how lucky he was to have her as a teammate right about then.
The dominant-wannabe licked chubby lips. “Let’s take this inside, shall we.”
His stubby fingers dug into her upper arm as he hauled her to her feet. A few additional commands had the primates dragging Meat Head into the larger of the two buildings ahead of them.
“You boys check the rest of the perimeter for any others and then go on ahead to the hanger to finish the inventory on the crap the simians brought in a couple days ago. I can see our new guests to the cages.”
The others leered, casting appreciative stares before leaving. Anger simmered beneath her meek surface, tension coiled as she struggled to keep her beast under control long enough.
Steady, easy. She chanted to herself. Don’t give them any reason to come along.
She counted steps as they entered the building to gauge the distance to each turning for escape later and to keep her mind clear. The cat grew more and more restless as they went deeper inside, every brush of her captor’s body against her back as he walked behind her, holding her against him, driving her anger into cold rage. Horny bastard.
But it would serve her purpose. After she found Rygard, she promised herself, this pig would squeal.
When they entered the holding room, a dozen unwashed bodies couldn’t hide Rygard’s scent from her. He was there, in the room somewhere.
“Put the new fucker in with the rest of the males.” Her escort barked out orders. “Then get out, all of you.”
Stupid, but then, the bastard was working to her advantage.
Those thick fingers grabbed a handful of her hair.
Memories flashed through her mind. A different hand twisted her waist long hair into a cord, wrapped it around her neck, told her it would do for a collar until he could get her a proper one.
“Lookie what we got here, boys.” Back to the present, and she blinked, trying to hold on to it. “Should I show you what she’s worth?”
“No!” The voice, Rygard’s. He’d thrown himself against the cage.
A part of her shrank deep inside her chest. He shouldn’t see this aspect of her...
The others, the cadets captured with her, they’d watched. Horror, fear for themselves, and tears shed for her but none of them looked away. They couldn’t. They’d watched as her captor stripped her naked and branded her with the virus.
“Maybe I’ll share her after I’m done.” Her captor’s voice from years ago melded with the thing holding her now.
Freshly branded, her captor had mounted her in front of his entire crew.
“Touch her and I’ll kill you!” Rygard. He had to have a plan. He wasn’t one to lose it, not even for her. But what would he think of her when he saw what was about to happen?
An old friend looked at her from forever ago, eyes filled with disgust and fear. What had she been worth to her commanding officer, her fellow students once she’d escaped back on Triton? Once they knew what had been done to her, saw how she’d been changed, hadn’t they turned away? Just a broken toy, a little girl playing at soldier.
Her intent shattered as she was swept up in the nightmares of her past. She made no noise when the pig slammed her into the wall, ground his hips into her behind, licked her exposed neck.
Assaulted by reality and remembered nightmares, she withdrew inside her own consciousness until everything played out as if it was happening to someone else.
Passive. Steady. It ended quicker if she didn’t fight. All she needed to do was wait for it to be over. Hide inside herself, survive.
Her vision filled with Rygard, raging as he threw himself at the bars over and over again. Superimposed over him, she saw her fellow cadets beaten and tortured in front of her as she was tied to the side of their captor’s chair. Their despair, their fear of him, and of her, shone in glazed eyes. They’d rather be tortured to death than suffer her fate.
They’d been branded anyway and died in agony when their bodies couldn’t handle the mutation.
“Get away from her!”
Would Rygard hate her once he saw?
He had to survive first.
The cat inside her screamed and the present came crashing back. She could see Rygard and his men straining at the bars to their cell, trying to get to her. Trying to save her. But they were caged and she was not.
Her captor turned her abruptly, shoving her back across a table. He fumbled at his belt, not bothering to tie her down. His mistake.