The Rogue Thread: (Book 2 of FERTS)

by Grace Hudson

  Officer Tor formally addressed the inhabitants of the cart. “Internees of Epsilon. We will send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Cerberus and FERTS, for our daily provision and protection from those who would seek to strike against our Vassals, our Fighters and our Internees.”

  “We send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Cerberus and FERTS,” came the enthusiastic reply.

  Officer Tor settled himself next to Reno at the head of the cart and clacked the reins. The cart groaned and creaked as the horses pulled them into motion, the rhythmic clomping of their hooves matching the lilting motion of the cart.

  Reno turned the cart towards the path leading from the ration supply unit. The creature caught another scent at the path, pausing to sniff at the ground until Officer Tor yanked at the lead to pull it back.

  The fighting creature took off, tugging at the lead in Officer Tor’s tight grip. The cart lurched to the side, turning towards the tree line, away from the route used for Vassal transportation. Reno clacked the reins in an effort to keep pace with the creature, Officer Tor tugging on the lead to slow the fighting creature’s progress.

  The cart reached the tree line, darting through rocks, passing shrubs and tiny pebbles that flew from the wheels as they traversed the unforgiving landscape.

  The creature stopped at a large rock, sniffing around the base, sharp, beady eyes darting around the rocky plains of the suspension zone. The creature paused, its muscled flanks twitching, a low growl welling in its throat. Reno motioned for Officer Tor to stop just as the creature scurried forward, leading the cart through a steep winding path, barely wide enough for the cart to comfortably fit. The horses skittered on their hooves, fighting against the weight of the cart and its passengers.

  “You need to get out and walk,” said Reno. “Take the three supply bags, follow the creature, it will take some weight off the horses.”

  Officer Tor stepped from the helm, darting out of range of the cart and charging down the path to keep pace with the creature.

  Reno pulled back on the reins, easing the horses through the next turn. They reached the bottom with an uneven jolt, the cart righting itself clumsily as Reno halted the horses. He turned to check on the Internees. All remained within their seats, arms casually looped around the wooden bars of the cage. Officer Tor edged towards the cart, dragging the uncooperative creature behind him, his hand grasping the double pointed spear.

  “Wait!” Reno hopped down from the cart, scanning the sandy ground. The sand bore no track marks, no wheel marks, nothing to indicate that others had been through this patch of the suspension zone. Yet his eyes were drawn to the sand, struggling to make sense of the swirling patterns, the distinct yet unnatural evenness of the desert floor. He bent to inspect the markings, following the scratches and circular branding with his fingers.

  “Wait here,” he instructed Officer Tor. Reno made his way over to a small purple-tinged shrub, its foliage thick and tightly packed. Plucking a branch from the bush, he proceeded to sweep, first side to side, then swirling in a figure eight pattern. He looked to the original markings, satisfied that they were comparable to his own.

  “They covered their tracks,” he called out.

  He turned to the fighting creature, watching it pace, sniffing the trail. The edges of Reno’s mouth twitched. Sweeping the tracks would not dislodge the scent trail, and fighting creatures were excellent trackers, given the opportunity.

  Officer Tor rejoined him at the helm, letting out carefully measured lengths of leather for the fighting creature to continue its search. The creature sniffed, following an unseen line around a winding path opening out to a small grove. The cart followed noisily behind, wheels scraping on sand, stuttering as the sand gave way to a rocky, pebbled surface.

  The creature paused at a flat rock, sniffing around the edge before taking off down one of the myriad of sprawling paths into the hilly terrain, winding through the maze of rocks and valleys.

  The cart trundled forward, the horses trotting feverishly as they passed more purple and green shrubs, large rocks and small hillocks. Before long they reached a collection of towering boulders. The creature stopped, sniffing at the ground before whimpering against a large, flat rock. Reno alighted from the cart, checking the rock for signs of activity, finding nothing out of place at first. It was then that his eye caught the lip of the rock, a tiny stain peeking out at him. Reno peered closer at the stain, eyes narrowing.

  It was a single drop of dried blood.

  – 10 –

  201 awoke to the full heat of the day bearing down on her. A mass of birds screeched, flying up from the trees, casting shadows across her face. The ground was warm in the spot where her body had compressed the undergrowth and her body was stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping position.

  She made her way down to the river, washing her face and gathering up a small collection of the strange plants to take with her on her journey. No matter how much they had disagreed with her, they would suffice as a food source, and she had no indication of where or when more food would be available in such a plentiful supply. As she snapped off the ends of the plants, a thought gnawed at her, an idea hidden in the recesses of her mind. The air was still and no sounds reached her ears. Despite this, something felt wrong. She sensed a growing urgency to get moving as quickly as possible. 201 washed the plants and packed them in her pockets, breaking into a slow jog, following the essence of the cart and its inhabitants.

  201 followed a clearing in the trees. She turned, doubling back and making her way to the top of the mountain, the layers of undergrowth crunching beneath her feet. She stopped, eyes tracking her surroundings.

  This is wrong. This is all wrong.

  A chill ran through 201 as she neared the top. Something told her to run, to turn around and retreat, but she had to know. It was only when she reached the ridge that she understood. She dropped, falling to her knees and inching forward to peer over a rock at the edge.

  A cart pulled by horses was slowly making its way through the woodlands, following the very path she had taken earlier that morning. She could not make out the figures at the helm, though she felt a familiarity as she stared down at them. The cart was large, with wooden bars encasing the carriage. Within the cage 201 could see a mass of red, the red she had worn every day as she trained under the instruction of High Training Officer Reno to become a Fighter.

  The red of Epsilon.

  A shrill bark rang out through the valley, carrying through the expanse of space until it reached her position. 201 squinted, trying to focus on the tiny figures below. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered now. She knew that sound. The sharp, snapping bark, followed by a rumbling growl, the barks and growls alternating until they seemed to merge into one. It was familiar. As familiar as the airless heat of the Epsilon Games ring, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the rustle of sawdust shavings beneath leather boots and the clink of metal against metal.

  That sound could only have come from a fighting creature.

  You have to relax, 201, she told herself. It’s not you they’re after. They search for Zeta Circuit and the ones that took them.

  A smaller, more insistent voice rose up within her.

  Are you sure?

  – 11 –

  Reno pulled on the reins, slowing the horses to a stop. The horses needed to drink and their spot close to the river would be ideal for setting up camp for the night. Reno checked the ration bags, removing the pieces of dried regulation protein for the Epsilon Fighters. He and Officer Tor would avail themselves of the more appetizing rations of dried meats and fruit.

  The fighting creature grew anxious, sniffing around the edge of the tree line. Officer Tor called out to the creature, slowly pulling it back so it could be secured. He tied the lead around a large stone and went about gathering supplies for the night.

  Reno scratched a small amount of flint on a dried pile of moss.

  “We need more kindling, Officer Tor.”

  Off
icer Tor foraged at the tree line, collecting dried twigs and tucking them under his arm. Reno held out his hand, grabbing the sticks to build up the fire. The twigs caught, releasing a fragrant smoke.

  “Do you think we’ll find them?” asked Officer Tor, handing Reno another bundle of sticks. “Do you believe we will gain the adulation of our new Pinnacle Officer for our service to FERTS?”

  Reno shrugged, staring at the flames flicking out between the wisps of smoke.

  “The fighting creatures are good trackers, when and if they behave. I believe we will find them.”

  “I have never had the opportunity to deal with mercenaries. Have you?”

  “No.” Reno poked at the fire, stacking more wood on the layers of kindling. He looked up to find Officer Tor still watching him.

  Reno returned his gaze to the fire as it took hold, crackling to life. “I once saw a group. A long time ago. I was too small to fight them so I was forced to hide.” He waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “It is not a pleasant memory.”

  “I was told when I was very small that Pinnacle Officer Wilcox created peace where before there was nothing but war. Now I fear that something is not right, now that he is gone.”

  “Pinnacle Officer Wilcox created order. It was the only way to deal with the threat of mercenaries,” said Reno.

  “But why do we seek them now?” Officer Tor asked, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I thought that the Pinnacle Officer had guaranteed the Internees protection from mercenary attacks.”

  “Too many questions, Officer Tor. It’s not our place to ask questions and you know the penalty for speaking of this to your fellow Officers. Go and secure the horses for the night, they’ve had all the water they can carry.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Officer Tor made his way to the horses, leading them one by one to a grove of trees, securing the reins to the branches.

  The fighting creature sat on its haunches, sniffing the air and emitting a low growl. Its eyes glinted in the half-light of the early evening. It had been restless all day, but now it had become agitated. This sudden change in behavior had not escaped the attention of Reno or Officer Tor.

  “It smells something, doesn’t it?” said Officer Tor, watching as the creature twitched, rearing up from its hind legs and scampering forward, only to be jerked back by the lead. It let forth a high pitched whine, scrabbling at the dirt and grunting, attempting to shrug off the lead. The lead pinched against its throat, bunching the skin around its neck as its legs stretched uselessly in the air, grappling at nothing before coming to rest on the ground. The creature lurched itself once more in the direction of the path along the river, its growls compressing in a hoarse yelp as the leash pulled taut.

  “We’re close. The creature has caught scent of something,” said Officer Tor, dropping another load of wood at Reno’s feet. “We must be close or it wouldn’t be acting like that.”

  Reno stoked the fire. “Yes, I suppose we are,” he said, nodding as Officer Tor returned to the tree line to collect more wood.

  “But to what?” he muttered to himself, watching the flames dance and flicker.

  – 12 –

  201 trudged along the moonlit ground, placing one foot in front of the other. She now had to keep moving in order to stay ahead of one cart and follow the trail of another. It was clear she could not outrun the horses of the Epsilon cart, at least not for any significant length of time. The bulk of the day had been spent walking at a steady pace, but now her plans required modification. If she walked too quickly through the night, she would tire and need to rest. If she rested for too long, the consequences would be equally devastating.

  She headed away from her chosen path, putting distance between herself and the last known position of the Epsilon cart. This new route would no doubt hinder her efforts in finding the location of the camp, but she could not risk revealing the location of the camp to outside forces, especially those from FERTS.

  201 brushed against thickly grouped branches, the sharp points pricking at her skin. She caught a glimpse of her shoulder, now covered in scratches and bleeding from the edges of the wound.

  She pondered the appearance of the Epsilon cart. How did the Officers expect to find the rescue party when she herself had found it difficult to follow the remnants of their essence? Perhaps she was not the only one who could see as she did. But such an idea made no sense. Another with her abilities would have been sent to Zeta as a defective. No, they must have employed a different method.

  Why did they bring a fighting creature?

  201 knew nothing of fighting creatures save from what she had seen in the Epsilon Games ring. They were ferocious in battle, that much was clear, though she could not understand why Reno would take one of these creatures on such a journey.

  201 reached a grove of trees and came to a stop, doubling over and panting for breath. She was in need of water. Food was a lesser concern at this time. She had gone for many nights with half rations or less in order to reduce muscle mass for Vassal selection. The search for food could wait.

  She changed direction, making her way back to the sound of running water. She would need more water if she planned to divert from the river’s path for any length of time.

  201 glanced around, checking the area for any signs of movement but the river’s edge was clear of activity.

  She moved forward, snapping the timepiece from her wrist, tucking it away in her pocket and bending to drink from the water’s edge. The water was chilling, cooling her throat as she drank as much as she could manage without coughing.

  201 raised her head from the water. A tingle started on the back of her neck, whisper-soft touches spreading down to her shoulder blades, fanning outwards.

  A low growl rumbled behind her. A clicking, purring sound started up, a constant stream of sound that raised the hair on her arms.

  201 turned her head slowly to find the fighting creature staring at her, eyes beady in the moonlight, the light glinting off its fur. Its hindquarters twitched, leg darting out to the side.

  201 turned her body in a slow arc, bending upwards from the waist, hands raised in placation. She faced the creature, keeping her face neutral.

  “Do not be afraid, I won’t hurt you,” she said, keeping her palms facing outwards. The creature followed her movements with its eyes.

  Its fur was dark with a white line striped on its forehead. The small pointed ears jutted out to the side, dwarfed against its large rounded skull and protruding jowls. The creature’s body was all compact muscle, its limbs forever bent in Fighter pose. Its eyes seemed to be set too small in its head. They peeked out, a flat gold that appeared to be lit from within, but that was just a trick of the moonlight, 201 was certain of this. It appeared to be smiling at her, its ragged fangs flashing in and out of its mouth as it growled its steady rhythm. She tried to tune into the creature’s essence. Softening her gaze, she saw the creature bathed in an orange light. She sensed an alertness, a readiness to fight. She opened her mind, going deeper. The creature radiated instinct, a strange, arcane set of behaviors. 201 tried once more to connect on some level with the creature’s essence. She found only questions within, and an elemental fire that sparked and burned in random patterns, an essence that was incapable of compromise or reasoning.

  201’s stomach clenched as a chill ran through her. The creature remained poised, motionless.

  201 bent slowly to the ground, keeping her head raised, maintaining eye contact. The creature let out a bark followed by a growl, flashing its unnaturally sharpened teeth.

  They sharpen their teeth to make the fights more interesting. Quicker. Bloodier.

  201 felt at the ground until she found a large stick. Standing once more, she did not let the creature out of her field of vision.

  Something was nagging at her, taunting her from the back of her mind.

  I am doing something wrong, she thought. I don’t know what it is but I know this to be true.

  “It’s oka
y,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing. “I am not here to hurt you.” She hoped that on some level, the creature understood. That perhaps the signals she was sending would somehow reach their mark.

  It remained still, standing guard against her only escape route, the muscles on its back twitching, feet restless, shuffling at the ground. Its claws dug into the dirt.

  201 tensed. Something had changed in the creature’s demeanor, but she could not pinpoint the reason for this. She stared at the creature and the creature stared back, eyes boring into her, revealing nothing of what lay beneath its mask. There was something about its eyes, something she had missed, something she should have known but had failed to recognize.

  Something fundamental about...

  Its eyes.

  A coldness enveloped her, starting as a sliver at the base of her spine. It slid through her body, coiling upwards, making its way to the back of her neck. There was something about the creature’s eyes, something about the way it seemed to see through her defenses, staring a challenge, a challenge, a challenge…

  Its eyes! You’re looking at its eyes! Stop looking at its eyes!

  Its eyes glinted, widening to reveal the whites, then narrowing.

  It let forth a whine as it bent and leapt.

  – 13 –

  Reno did not understand why he was awake. The sounds of running water at the edge of the river filtered through his awareness. He blinked, rising on one elbow. There seemed to be no immediate danger in the vicinity. He took a glance at the cart, set back from both the river and the fire. The Epsilon Fighters appeared to be sleeping, with nothing seeming out of place at first glance.