One of them paused, raised its head, and sniffed.
Guy gripped his blaster, ready to shoot.
The creature roared, revealing a mouthful of sharp, yellowed teeth. Red stained its muzzle, and Guy’s stomach churned as he realized it was blood from a recent kill. On a planet with few animals, that could mean—
What if I’m too late? What if they already killed her?
The Ka-Tȇ glanced at each other, hissed, and moved on.
When he could no longer hear them, he raced through the jungle. Closer to his destination, he encountered two more creatures and had to duck behind another tree, making sure to remain upwind. He had no idea how sharp their sense of smell was. After they passed, he hit the jungle again. He neared the coordinates, human and cyber senses on high alert. Parting the fronds, he peered into a clearing.
A Faria lay motionless on the ground, her silvery wings torn and bloodied, one bent at an unnatural angle. Her clothing hung in shreds on her battered body. Deep wounds crisscrossed her arms, legs, and abdomen. She looked broken.
Don’t be dead.
Guy had rescued many people—but had lost even more. Some he hadn’t been able to get to in time; others were alive, but later succumbed. Though intellectually he knew saving everyone was outside his control, each death scarred him. For the ones lost, he fought harder to save the ones he could. He sensed losing this little Faria would be the greatest loss of all.
He cocked an ear for the Ka-Tȇ then, hearing nothing, sprinted into the clearing. A shimmer revealed an electro-cage surrounded the Faria, the force field beamed from a half-buried unit. To his knowledge, the Ka-Tȇ didn’t have the technology to create a containment field—but Quasar did. Pressing his lips together, Guy fired his blaster at a molehill-sized mound. The energy field collapsed with a crackle.
Silvery, luminous skin had dulled to gray. Gaping wounds had bled into the dirt, darkening the soil around the Faria. There was no telling how much blood she’d lost. He cursed himself for not bringing an emergency medi-kit. Pressing his fingers to her throat, he sought a pulse. Too faint, but there.
He tucked his blaster into the holster so he could ease an arm under her shoulders. She moaned in pain.
“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to get you out of here,” he murmured. He hoped he wasn’t too late. When he started to lift her, her eyes flew open. She cried out and jerked, her good wing spasming. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “My name is Guy. I’m here to help. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The fear in her eyes muted. “So-Solia,” she answered. Silvery tears welled. “R-Rachel never gave up hope we’d be rescued until the end. B-but then she did…”
“There’s someone else here?” Had the computer missed one? Unusual, but possible, considering the density of the vegetation. He’d take Solia to the ship and then come back for the other survivor.
She shook her head. “No, they’re all dead. The Ka-Tȇ killed them, except for Rachel. She took her own life.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, recognizing her need to process the horrors she’d witnessed. “I wish we had time to talk, but we don’t. I’m going to carry you so we can move fast and get out of here. Okay?”
She nodded.
As he moved to scoop her up, the hair on his nape prickled. He whipped around. A Ka-Tȇ sprang at him out of nowhere like it had been catapulted. Guy threw himself over Solia and struck out with his arm. As he flung the creature away, its claws sliced through his sleeve and dug into his biceps.
Solia screamed.
The Ka-Tȇ’s barbed tail switched. Yellow eyes gleamed with intelligent malice. It snarled and leaped. If he’d been alone, cyber reflexes would have enabled him to dodge it, but he served as the sole barricade between the creature and Solia. It landed on him, raking with its claws. His uniform shredded, but the mesh protected his chest. Mostly. One razor-sharp claw pierced through to his skin. The Ka-Tȇ roared and lunged for his throat, but Guy grabbed its neck with one hand, thrust the muzzle of the blaster to its temple, and shot it in the head. Blood and brains sprayed him in the face.
He shoved the limp body into the dirt as two more creatures galloped from the jungle. He shot them both then whirled around as a couple more leaped from the thicket. Fuck, how many are there? He dispatched them as well.
Five down. His heart hammered for long seconds as he waited for others to appear.
Hic-hic-hic. Solia gasped for air, her body shaking.
He wished he could comfort her, but the snarls, her scream, and the scent of blood would draw more Ka-Tȇ. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, we gotta go.”
Gently, he hoisted her over his shoulder. Not the most comfortable position for her, but it allowed him one hand free to shoot. Banding his arm across her thighs, he sprinted into the thicket. He tried to tread quietly, but speed mattered more than silence. He and Solia were bleeding. Any Ka-Tȇ in the vicinity might track the blood scent. Hiding wasn’t an option.
His cyberbrain homed in on the pod’s coordinates as he ran, knocking away branches, fronds, and giant ferns with his blaster hand. He plowed through a stream rather than leaping over it, to minimize the impact on Solia. She was limp and silent except for her muffled whimpers when he jolted her.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.
“A-a-all right.”
“We’re almost there.” It disturbed him the Ka-Tȇ had sneaked up on him. His cyberhearing could detect sounds even dogs couldn’t hear. Only a cyborg’s instinct had saved them. His injured arm throbbed, but nanocytes had already rushed the site to initiate healing. By the time they reached the ship, the wound would be a memory. A bad one. How could he not have heard the thing approach?
Rawr! Rawr! RAWR! Snarls split the air as if creatures closed in, but that couldn’t be possible. He had a head start, and he was fast. Rawr! “They’re farther away than they sound,” he reassured her.
“They have us in their sights.” Her voice quavered. “They know you’re armed, so they’re hanging back, calling for reinforcements before they attack.”
“It might sound that way—”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m telling you what they said.”
The certainty in her voice got his attention. “What?”
“I’m a linguist with an aptitude for languages enhanced by an implant. Their vocalizations might sound like animal growls, but it’s a language.”
“You speak Katnian?”
“No, but I understand it. Four of them are following us. They’re calling others to intercept us, ambush us up ahead.”
Oh. Fuck. “Hang on.” He tightened his grip. Nanos pushed power to his legs, and he burned through the jungle. Foliage blurred as he ran.
RAWR! Fuck, if that one didn’t sound close. Scientists had hypothesized a Ka-Tȇ’s speed rivaled a Terran cheetah. A cyborg with prosthetic legs and a nano infusion, he was faster than a cheetah—but no one had clocked a Ka-Tȇ. What if they were much faster?
Solia cried out as he vaulted over obstacles and came down hard. He knew she felt every jolt in her battered, torn body, but he didn’t dare slow.
His cyberbrain led him to the pod. Activating his wireless, he transmitted a signal and switched off the cloaking device. The ship shimmered into view, and the hatch opened. He dove in, holstered his weapon, and swiped his hand across the reader to seal the door. He expelled a breath.
Well, that got the pulse pounding. He buckled Solia into the Nav seat. Her complexion was grayer, duller. Her head lolled.
“Solia!” He patted her face. “Stay with me, sweetheart!”
She opened her eyes. “I’m here.”
Thud!
Solia screamed.
A monstrous Ka-Tȇ leaped onto the nose, clawing at the window, trying to get at them. Its maw opened wide in a muffled roar. The pod’s construction provided a sound barrier, but the sight of the sharp, yellowed fangs and teeth was bad enough.
Solia emitted terrified huffing noises.
Th
e pod rocked as the creatures threw themselves at the tiny ship.
“You’re safe. They can’t penetrate the craft,” he said and flung himself into the pilot’s seat. “But we’re not sticking around, either.” His fingers flew over the launch screen.
Thrusters ignited. He hoped the Ka-Tȇ on the ground got fried.
The pod lifted off. The creature on the window hung on.
“It will fall off. Don’t look at it,” he said.
She already had her eyes squeezed shut. Her knuckles whitened on the seat’s armrest.
If Solia hadn’t been injured, he would have shot the pod to the sky and done a loop the loop and dumped the Ka-Tȇ’s hairless ass back down to Katnia. But he couldn’t subject an injured woman to the g-forces. However, he had a few other tricks up his sleeve.
The pod rose into the sky with the Ka-Tȇ clinging to it. He was a stubborn fucker. Clear of the canopy, Guy opened the throttle and lifted the nose. The Ka-Tȇ slid and hit the view window. The tiny pod arced into the sky. Guy kept his eye on the altimeter. When he achieved enough clearance from the ground, he leveled out and then lowered the nose. The Ka-Tȇ’s eyes widened with alarm. He clawed at the pod, fighting gravity. He lost the battle, fell from the craft, and disappeared.
Guy raised the nose. The pod scaled the sky and zoomed out of the atmosphere.
Five
Report! The pod had no sooner docked on the shuttle than Carter’s hail came through. Guy braced himself for a reaming, although, in truth, Carter was one of the good guys. The director could be a pain in the ass, sometimes, but every single cyborg in Cy-Ops owed him his life. Including him.
I got her, he answered. Carrying an unconscious Solia, he climbed out of the pod and hurried down the passage.
Her?
Solia. The Faria. The Ka-Tȇ had her. She’s alive, but barely.
Shit. No others, right?
No. I intend to take Solia to the Cybermed station in sector seven. She needs more help than conventional medicine can give her. Her wing is in bad shape. Guy waited for the denial. Classified top secret and extremely specialized, Cybermed facilities weren’t public hospitals. Rarely did they treat people who weren’t undergoing cybernetic surgical modification. But Cybermed was the only medical facility with a chance of saving Solia’s damaged wing. The left one had been nearly severed from her body; it hung by a tendon. It was amazing she’d survived. If it wasn’t fixed properly, she would never fly again.
I’ll let them know to expect you. Carter didn’t question or hesitate.
Moments like these were why every single Cy-Ops agent would kill for the man. Thank you.
What else did you find out? the director asked.
Ka-Tȇ are fast, strong, and vicious. Maybe no one but a cyborg would stand a chance, and I’m not even sure of that. I was barely able to outrun them. He might not have beaten them to the pod, if Solia hadn’t warned him. Also, they have a language.
You’re kidding. They don’t just snarl and growl?
Solia is a linguist. She understands the sounds.
The pirates who delivered the captives managed to communicate. Maybe we can, too? We can find out what motivates them.
Now you sound like the AOP, Guy said.
Don’t be nasty.
Though Cy-Ops and the Association of Planets each wanted safety for the galaxy, they disagreed on strategy. The AOP’s policy acceptance of diversity, of live and let live, put them at a disadvantage with terrorists bent on achieving their aims at any cost. The alliance’s naiveté sometimes resulted in tragedy—leaving Cy-Ops to clean up the mess.
Guy entered the compact med bay and positioned the unconscious Solia on the berth. Faria glowed with a natural luminosity; her skin had dulled to ash. Waist-length silver hair had grayed and lay lank and lifeless. She looked dead. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest revealed she was still alive.
He palmed a screen and accessed the bridge. Keying in a code, he set a course for Cybermed and then swept a bio scanner over Solia. Vitals barely registered. He read the diagnostic. Major blood loss. Organs failing. Shock. She was sinking fast. No MEDs exploded in the background, no soldiers moaned, but the past slammed into him. Truman was dead; he couldn’t lose this little Faria, too. She’d saved their lives, his life, by warning him the Ka-Tȇ were closing in. She couldn’t die now!
He yanked open a cabinet, grabbed an infuser loaded with nano-temp. Pressing it against her neck, he injected the generic microrobotic cells into her bloodstream to jump-start healing. Would it work on a Faria? He wasn’t sure, but, in any case, the effects would be temporary at best because her body would break down and flush out the nano-temp. But, with a little luck, it would stabilize her until arrival at Cybermed. Next, he injected her with a dose of hemogen to speed the production and maturation of blood cells. “Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured.
He ran another scan and released his breath in a relieved whoosh when he saw an improvement in her vitals.
Guy stripped off his shredded shirt and the netting. His nanos, permanent ones programmed to his genetics and chemistry, had sealed the punctures to his torso. All he had to show for the attack was pinker skin. In a few hours, his skin would darken, and only memories of the experience would remain.
Those would never disappear.
He realized he still had Carter on an open channel. I don’t entirely disagree with the AOP’s containment strategy, Guy told the director. The Ka-Tȇ have killed most of their animal life. Unless they start eating insects, pretty soon they’ll starve to death. If it was his decision, he’d charge in with a full unit and wipe every single Ka-Tȇ off the face of Katnia for what they’d done to Solia…which was why they didn’t put cyber operatives in charge of interplanetary relations. The AOP is correct in its assumption. If we leave them alone, karma and nature will take care of them. However, with mercenaries and pirates feeding them, that’s not going to happen. So far, the pirates have had the sense not to give the Ka-Tȇ passage off the planet. But if that changes, or the Ka-Tȇ acquire the technology to leave on their own, they’ll make Lamis-Odg look like Vestian altar boys.
What do you suggest?
In the short term, heightened surveillance of the sector. We have to prevent offworlders from contacting the Ka-Tȇ. If another trafficking incident occurs, we should consider extermination.
Ironically, the “Kumbaya”-singing AOP would fight Cy-Ops tooth and nail. Where the organization had failed to move decisively against threats to the galaxy, addressing a problem in such a direct manner would spur the alliance into military action—against Cy-Ops. The AOP would lose, of course.
I’ll increase drone surveillance. The other will require more consideration.
Of course. Exterminating an entire species was a grave last resort.
Now about your insubordination. You disobeyed a direct order. Consider yourself on two-week paid leave, effective upon delivery of the Faria to Cybermed. I’m assigning someone else to your mission with Brock.
Fine. He shrugged. Carter had to maintain order, but if Guy had it to do over again, he wouldn’t change his decision. Administrative leave amounted to a slap on the wrist—Carter could have thrown him in the brig. Instead, his pay wasn’t even being docked. Forced time off suited his intentions anyway. He couldn’t dump Solia at Cybermed and leave. He had to ensure she recovered and got back to her people and—boy, he was a dumb fucker. Thanks, he said.
Good call on your part. If I threw every agent who went rogue into the brig, I wouldn’t have a Cyber Operations team.
Cyborgs didn’t take orders well. Shit happened. For all their muscle power, brain power counted more. You had to be able to think on your feet in the field. What they did exceptionally well was guard each other’s backs. That included Carter’s. Guy and his fellow agents liked to yank Carter’s chain because he ran the organization—had founded it—but he belonged to the brotherhood, too.
I’ll keep you posted, he promised, although Carter would know what happ
ened before Guy did.
Good luck.
The link disconnected, and Guy focused on Solia. Her lashes formed dark crescents on her pale-gray cheeks. All the Faria he’d met had glowed and sparkled like they were illuminated from within. Solia’s light had been nearly extinguished. Unconscious, she looked so small and defenseless. She was small and defenseless. Nano-temp would help, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
The med-bay door slid open to admit Mittzi. “Meow?” It almost sounded like, “Where have you been?”
He’d left the kitten in his quarters—but had forgotten to lock the access/exit. Guy sighed and picked her up. “What mischief did you get into while I was gone?” he asked and petted her.
Between her shoulder blades, he could feel the small lump of a microchip ID tracker. A good thing to have, considering how much she moved about. If she disappeared and got herself wedged into a duct, he could locate her from the ping.
Mittzi blinked, her green eyes wide and innocent appearing. White feet contrasted with dark-gray fluffy fur. Some people were dog lovers; others preferred reptiles; some the limbless, but empathetic, ikantani, but who couldn’t respond to a kitten this cute? He’d keep her if his work permitted it. Maybe somebody on the Cybermed station would want her. He’d ask around.
In the meantime, he would leave her with Solia. Piloting actions from the med bay were limited. On the bridge, he could override the presets and boost power to get them to Cybermed faster. He could keep an eye on Solia via the monitor. In her condition, she probably wouldn’t rouse. If she did, Mittzi would keep her company. Petting an animal was supposed to be calming, wasn’t it?
Guy deposited the kitten on the berth with an admonition to behave, reprogrammed the entry/exit so the kitten couldn’t get out, and headed for the bridge.
Six
What was that?
Something kept poking her. Solia rose to consciousness but buried her face in her wing and squeezed her eyelids even tighter. She didn’t want to see what existed in the light. Monsters were real, and they didn’t just creep in the night. Don’t look. Stay here. Here, wherever that was, with her eyes closed, was warm, pain-free, safe.