by L. E. Horn
Through a fog of pain, Lianndra managed a growl. If only I could reach that damned human captain. Just one touch and he would pay for his brutality with his life. I know now what I can do.
The Fang snarled at him and the human subsided. One didn’t get between a Fang and his meal and survive. The reptilian alien sank his teeth deep into the curve of Lianndra’s neck and shoulder, chewing and sucking.
Shivers of pain and revulsion coursed through Lianndra. She had a choice to make. Being so far gone, she didn’t think she could kill him for Fang were just too tough. But she could do one last thing. While he drank her blood, she used the dregs of her resources to dive into his brain, finding the nodes implanted there to control the slaves. She deactivated them by building up masses of scar tissue.
If only I weren’t so tired. Finishing with the collar, she tried shredding apart some brain cells. Maybe I can at least make him faint.
Her body failed her. He drained her blood too fast, and her consciousness wavered. She tried again, reaching deep, but she had nothing left. Darkness swam at the edges of her vision.
This is it, she thought, the end of the road . . .
ANDREA LED MICHAEL THROUGH THE jungle as fast as he could follow. He lost count of the number of times she saved him from falling to his death. Only sheer stubborn determination kept him going.
Finally, the weather cooperated. The rain stopped as darkness descended and moonlight filtered through the leaves. It made it easier to see as he moved from branch to branch.
Even with his inexperience, it was faster moving through the canopy than pushing through the foliage on the ground. Eventually, he got the hang of using his spread toes and fingers to steady his body as he jumped and swung. He wouldn’t have wanted to move an entire group this way, but it served his current purpose well.
All conscious thought ended when Lianndra’s shrill scream of anguish penetrated the jungle. Michael shot past Andrea, zeroing in on the sound. As he crashed through the lush plant growth, he dropped ever lower. The big man went so fast that when he burst into the clearing, he cannonballed through the milling soldiers. Michael converted the forward momentum into a semi-controlled somersault, landing him in a crouch right at the Fang commander’s feet.
He has his teeth buried in Lianndra’s neck! The smell of her blood triggered deep-rooted memories of clashing metal and the screams of dying soldiers. No! Lianndra! His heart flooded with white-hot rage and he roared. Forgetting about his sword, he grabbed the Fang by the back of the neck and wrenched him free of Lianndra. He flung the big alien through the air to land with a crash near the fire.
A man with graying hair slashed at him with a knife. Michael slapped the knife aside and grabbed the man’s head with both hands. A quick twist and the lifeless FHR captain dropped to the ground.
The watching soldiers seemed frozen in shock. Michael ignored them, turning to face the Fang now struggling to his feet. Rage filled him with a power he’d never known. He gnashed his teeth together, eager to rip the Fang to shreds. The sounds coming from him bore no resemblance to anything human. He towered over the now upright Fang, and with a single backward swipe of an arm, sent the alien flying to land howling in the fire.
This Fang will never command again. Michael unleashed the rage, letting it take control.
LIANNDRA GASPED AS THE FANG’S teeth ripped away. She slumped against her restraints, feeling the blood course down her shoulder. I can’t stop the bleeding.
Then cool fingers met over the gaping wound in her neck and Andrea’s voice was in her ear. “Easy, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Lianndra opened her eyes and saw the Fang commander—blood still dripping from his mouth—facing off with a tall, snarling alien. She blinked. The alien was Michael, his eyes blazing golden fire through long, tangled black hair. He towered over the Fang like an avenging beast, sweat pouring off his naked torso. Lips pulled back to reveal long, pointed canines when he backhanded the alien, sending him flying into the central firepit.
Lianndra heard the Fang commander scream as the fire burned his scaled hide. Through blurred eyes she saw him roll free, but Michael was on top of him in a flash, grabbing the commander by the back of his neck to elevate the struggling form clear off the ground. Blood sprayed from the alien’s face as the big man drove an iron fist into the Fang’s snout. Then he lifted the heavy body over his head and hurled it through the air to slam into the closest tree trunk. The snap of the alien’s spine was loud and final.
The slaves shifted nervously, and Lianndra struggled to speak. “Andrea, I disabled the Fang’s nodes. The men are free.” With a hand suppressing the blood flowing from Lianndra’s neck, Andrea shouted, “We are with the rebellion! The commander’s collar is disabled. You are free!”
The men hesitated, looking from the Fang commander’s body to Michael, huge and bestial and wild with rage. Several men tried to run, but others held them back.
In the clearing’s center, a panting Michael spun and targeted the Bernaf bodyguards. Oddly, they’d not made a single move to defend their commander. The three lithe aliens regarded him with tilted heads—their large, onyx eyes unreadable. One moment they were there, and the next, they vanished into the jungle. Michael took a long stride in their direction but something stopped him. Instead, he turned toward her and Lianndra gasped at what she saw in those glaring, golden eyes. Then her vision faded as the darkness rose to take her.
HANNAH SIGHED WITH RELIEF WHEN the Fang unit finally broke camp and disappeared into the gathering darkness. Drake lost no time getting his men on the move. Michael and Andrea had disappeared—and Hannah had a pretty good idea of where they’d gone.
The unit with Lianndra had used a dry creek bed to facilitate their travel, and when Hannah found it, Drake picked up the pace. The group made rapid progress for the next hour. It meant the rebels were close enough to hear Lianndra’s screams, although they remained faint. Drake moved them to a run, and up ahead, Hannah guided their course based on the sounds they could now clearly hear. An inhuman roar, followed by crashing and more bestial screaming.
Hurry, she subconsciously urged Drake and the men. Hurry.
Everything fell silent and Hannah thought her heart would break. Too late, too late! She skidded to a halt on a large tree branch, and the scene below made her gasp in shock.
THE SOLDIERS BURST INTO THE clearing, armed and ready for battle. Drake moved so fast he had to leap over the Fang’s broken body. Someone grabbed his arm to steady him and he froze at the tableau before him.
Michael stood in front of the big central fire, an unconscious Lianndra in his arms. Andrea ran her hands over her friend’s body, seeking to stop the bleeding where she could. The big man’s eyes reflected brilliant gold in the firelight, glaring through long strands of black hair. His lips could not completely cover gleaming white, pointed canines. Drake looked into Michael’s face. He could swear the man had grown taller since he vanished into the jungle. How is that even possible?
The newly freed slaves stood in a group, staring at the spectacle. Michael captivated the soldiers. Power radiated off the man in waves.
Hannah dropped from above to land beside him. Andrea must have heard her because she stated facts in rapid succession without taking her attention from the injured woman. “I can stabilize Lianndra. The men need to have their collars deactivated before another Fang unit gets here since some have untreated injuries. I haven’t seen the Healer that reported us to the Fang. If she’s loose, she might go to the closest Fang unit and report. We may not have much time.”
Drake tore his gaze from Michael and began the process of guiding the newest rebellion members into the fold. He would have to do it fast and get the entire group moving. Drake wasn’t going to even try asking Michael to stay with them, and he wondered if his days of telling Michael to do anything at all were at an end.
While Hannah worked on the slave collars, Drake heard Andrea talking to the big man. If anyone can talk him down, it will b
e her. She seems good at it. He turned to his experienced rebels and started issuing orders. Lianndra’s a mess, but she’s alive, thank God. These new recruits mean it’s been a good day for the rebellion. Not so much for Lianndra and Michael. Like those two didn’t already have enough problems!
It wasn’t until he got everyone mobile that he realized something was missing from the dead bodies in the clearing. What happened to the Bernaf? Are they lurking in the jungle? Their collars should keep them here, close to the dead Fang. Drake shook his head. He had more important things to think about. They can rot, for all I care.
THEIR PROGRESS TOWARD THE EXTRACTION team was hardly silent, and the foliage took enough of a beating to reveal their path to anyone who cared to follow.
Drake abandoned stealth and forged on with as much speed as he could muster. He used his most trusted people on the periphery and kept those with uncertain loyalties amidst the group’s core. The Healers deactivated the collars of all the new soldiers. Besides the absent Bernaf, the rebel captain worried about the Fang friendly Healer on the loose. I can’t do much about it, he thought, but she could do a lot of damage if she gets to a Fang unit. Keeping the rebellion a secret has come to an end. It made him feel vulnerable, especially while they were so close to the front lines. There is a certain safety inherent in the element of surprise.
His gaze focused on the front ranks of their enlarged troop. Michael carried Lianndra in his arms as he strode along, oblivious to the slap of wet branches against him. Hannah and Andrea swung through the trees, although they remained alert to Michael’s slightest signal. The big man carried her as carefully as possible, but the unconscious Healer’s wounds broke open frequently and required medical attention. Drake wanted to try her in a stretcher but bowed to the wisdom of faster progress over comfort.
We couldn’t pry her loose from Michael anyway, he figured.
As he pushed through the foliage, Drake connected the dots on Michael’s transformation. When Michael hovered near death, the rebel captain witnessed Lianndra use her blood to keep him alive. It never crossed anyone’s mind that in the process of saving him, Lianndra would expose him to the genetic manipulations the Fang inflicted upon her.
Although an army of Michaels wouldn’t be a bad thing, Drake thought, as long as they were controllable. He wondered if the Fang hadn’t tried to manipulate the males the same as they had the Healers because of the aggression factor. Maybe not even their slave collars can chain this particular beast.
Hannah interrupted his reverie by swinging out of the trees. Drake couldn’t help himself. He smiled as she dropped to the ground, her red hair forming a bright cloud around her pretty face.
Hannah’s tired eyes smiled back even as she imparted her news. “There is another unit in our path. Andrea says it is one she and Lianndra worked on. Most collars are deactivated, but they haven’t yet rebelled against their commander. They’ve camped in a small hollow for the night.”
Soft imitated bird whistles from ahead brought everyone to a staggered halt. Drake walked along the column, discussing their next move with his men. Then he moved to the column’s head where Michael rocked from foot to foot.
“Michael.” The man’s eyes dropped to his. The gold in them seemed to flare and subside. Drake wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or a sign of his inner turmoil. If Hannah was in that state, I would be a mental wreck too. “We must help these blokes free themselves. We may not get another chance at this.” Drake reached out and gripped the big man’s arm. It was like touching steel. “I want you to get Lianndra out of here. She can’t wait for us. She needs critical care. I’m sending Hannah with you.”
He saw brief signs of conflict within Michael but concern for Lianndra won out. Drake knew they would miss Michael in the battle to come but he was the only one strong enough to carry Lianndra.
Michael’s voice grated, “I’ll get her to safety and return to help.”
“You’ve done enough, mate.” Drake released Michael’s arm. “We’ll be right behind you.”
PEERING THROUGH MAGNIFYING LENSES, CARLA watched the group split up. She didn’t dare get any closer to the rebels than this, not with those two Healers flying around. They were better adapted than her to moving in the trees. If they suspected she watched, they would catch her with little effort.
The thought made her grimace in disgust.
Wish they’d put more work into me, she thought. I don’t mind not having the hair, but the longer tail and claws would have been nice. As the two groups moved away, the lone Healer crouched over the branch beneath her long toes. I have limited options.
She was under no illusions about her reception with the rebels, yet if she went to the Fang, they would interrogate her. She might survive the process but doubted she would enjoy it much.
Carla noticed the Bernaf bodyguards head off into the jungle as ghostly gray blurs moving through the undergrowth. They didn’t show signs of being restricted by their collars, which confused her. When she tried to leave, she could only go so far before her collar gave her a warning twinge. Why are they different from me?
She also didn’t know how the rebel Healers circumvented their collars. With her captain dead, her collar bound her to the territory patrolled by her FHR unit. Within the prescribed area, she could do as she liked until a Fang used a device to take over control and reassign her. The transfer required a personal touch, and she would not let that happen.
If the other Healers possessed the ability to deactivate the collars, she could too. Carla knew the jungle would supply her with life’s essentials until she figured it out.
She rose and skrinned herself higher into the canopy.
MICHAEL RAN, LEAPING OVER FALLEN trees and dodging overhanging branches. An unconscious Lianndra rode on his back, her arms tied around his neck and legs around his waist. Overhead, Hannah swung through the canopy as she scouted their path to safety.
The selected path required speed to ensure they stayed away from the fighting units patrolling nearby. Lianndra jostled with each stride he took and he was grateful for Hannah’s placement of her friend into a deep state of unconsciousness.
Something warm ran along his ribs, and Michael slid to a halt as he realized blood trickled from Lianndra. He whistled, and Hannah dropped from the trees.
She frowned as she ran her hands over the prone body strapped to his back. With a deft mental touch, she sealed off the blood vessel.
“She’s still stable”—Hannah sighed—“but it’s tricky keeping her that way. Once we reach the Gryphon, I’ll ride with her to keep the bleeding under control.” She pointed into the jungle. “There is something over this way disturbing the normal patterns of the forest. I’m betting it’s another Fang unit. We’ll have to detour to get past. Once we do, we can call in the Gryphon.”
Michael nodded, saving his breath for running. He took off again as Hannah jumped into the trees. To not jostle his precious burden, he tried to absorb more shock by bending his knees further with each stride. As if his body responded to his wishes and changed just a little, it became easier to move fluidly along the varied terrain. Men his size were not good long-distance runners, but his body seemed to have settled into a comfortable rhythm. The fog of fatigue hovered at the edges, but for now he could keep going.
He gripped Lianndra’s limp hands where her bound wrists crossed over his chest. Just hang in there, girl, please. He wondered if she could, even unconscious, sense his heart beating hard under her hands. Don’t die on me now.
Ducking under a branch, he ran on.
SEATED QUIETLY WITHIN HER PRIVATE quarters, Ewtk’fisk watched as the datachrys disintegrated into dust in her palm. The message was a general update on the Tlok’mk rebellion’s progress. Their plans involving the Healers on the planet’s surface progressed well, but their efforts on the Motherships had hit a major hurdle.
The rebellion had not foreseen the Tlok’mk engineers would launch such an ambitious plan as the massive plasma c
annon. This super-weapon depended upon the generation of an unprecedented amount of power between multiple Motherships. The recent arrival and inclusion of a fifth Mothership weakened the rebellion’s efforts. They needed time to recruit members on the new ship—time they did not have.
The new recruits the rebellion managed to solicit were important, but they were not strategically placed to affect the power grid modifications necessary for the cannon. Therefore, work on the plasma cannon was continuing unhindered.
The rebels used their connections to enhance safeguards, protecting the power grids from backlash if the cannon malfunctioned. It disturbed Ewtk’fisk that safety precautions took a back seat to the cannon development. Without such protection an energy surge could permanently cripple the Motherships, endangering their ability to sustain life. The Motherships must be protected, and the elders were not taking adequate steps to do so. The task of preventing a catastrophe seemed to fall upon the rebels, so they created contingency plans for the ships’ evacuations if their efforts failed. In fact, most energy now seemed dedicated to damage control. The rebel message to its people called for patience, to stand by for quick action when required.
It meant there was no plan in place to stop the construction of the plasma cannon. It would be completed and used on Tarin’s sole means of defense: the planetary shield. For the Tlok’mk rebels to find success, the Gryphon shield must hold.