This short story takes place before Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood. If you enjoy it, please consider purchasing my other books here.
ED02499.08.22
Personal Journal of Sierra Kearns, Lab Assistant
Employee ID# 74263-145-02
Tachyon Labs, Vertex City, Cytrine Delta
One of the first rules of lab work is, “Don’t get attached to the test subjects.” I honestly thought I was smarter than that, but that was before I met P-224B.
I’ll never forget when they first brought him in. He was just a kitten, one of ten delivered to the lab that day. They were all leopards, but P-224B was the only one with solid black fur. I wanted to give him a name, but of course that would have been silly. They were lab animals, destined to receive experimental treatments, and naming them could make objectivity more difficult. And yet, in my mind, I kept calling him “Shadow.”
I secretly hoped he would end up in the control group, but no such luck. Shadow, along with four of his siblings, was given artificial growth hormones. The formula had already been tested in smaller mammals, so we weren’t expecting any complications with the leopards. As expected, they grew much faster and much larger than ordinary examples of their species. The experiment was deemed a success, and we were in the process of arranging a larger living environment for the animals, when we had a sudden change in management.
The new manager’s name was Allin K’garr-Ott, but everyone called him “Doctor Shagg.” I’m not sure how he got that nickname, and I never got up the nerve to ask. I don’t know what species he was, but he had pale yellow skin and bushy red hair. The top of his head was bald, but he had a full beard that almost reached his waistline. He made a great first impression – always smiling, his deep laugh booming at even the mildest of jokes. He was like a palette-swapped Santa Claus.
But those early impressions proved to be deceptive. This man was no Saint Nick, he was no Saint anything. Krampus would have been a more apt comparison. It started slowly. He gradually replaced members of our staff, having them reassigned to other experiments. That wasn’t too unusual, labs like ours often went through reorganizations, as people were placed where their expertise would do the most good. I was the only member of the original team who didn’t get reassigned, probably because I got along so well with the animals.
Doctor Shagg (ugh) didn’t want to retire the leopards. He wanted to use them to test other drugs, to see how the growth hormones interacted with other experimental enhancements. He tended to cut a lot of corners, and often ordered us to do things that contradicted procedure. On several occasions, I warned him that his refusal to follow scientific methods would invalidate the results of our experiments, but he just laughed. Only it was no longer the jovial belly laugh I’d heard so much in his first week. It was now a bark of mocking derision, a laugh that said, “Your opinion is worthless to me.”
I also didn’t like the way he kept looking at me. I could swear I felt him undressing me with his eyes whenever I walked away from him, but I told myself I was imagining things. Did his species even find humans attractive? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to look like an idiot by making outlandish accusations.
It became more blatant as time went on. He’d make a double entendre, and if I called him on it, he’d claim he meant it some other way. And yet, he never seemed to use such phrases around the other staff. I made it clear that I was in a relationship, and he backed off for a couple of days.
But apparently he spent those days asking around about me, and found out I was in a polyamorous relationship. From then on, he ran hot and cold on me, and both temperatures made me uncomfortable. Some days he’d be overly nice to me, inviting me out to dinner, giving me a guilt trip if I refused, claiming he was just being friendly. I guess he figured that if I was open to multiple partners, that must mean I had room for one more. Other days he’d give me playful nicknames, which I won’t repeat here, but they rhymed with “glut” and “bore.”
I should have filed a report with HR. I seriously considered it, but I was afraid it might lead to me being reassigned. And I didn’t want to risk being separated from Shadow. He was now as big as a lion, and his growth seemed to have stopped. Doctor Shagg had given us a slew of new formulas to try on the cats. No more control groups, just “try one of these on each leopard.” Some of them seemed riskier than others, so I picked the one I deemed most benign to give to Shadow. I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but if Shagg wasn’t going to follow procedure, why should I?
One of Shadow’s sisters was given an experimental steroid, which greatly increased her muscle mass. Unfortunately, her heart couldn’t handle the demands of her new size, and she passed away. Another sister was given a serum that made her fur as hard as chitin, basically giving her natural armor. But then she developed breathing problems, and she, too, died. I didn’t even know what some of the other formulas were supposed to do.
Shadow received a treatment for increased cognitive reasoning. I thoroughly researched the serum before administering it. The experimental concoction was designed to combat dementia. In earlier studies, it had been successfully used on animals, including felines. There were no reported side effects so far. It wouldn’t go so far as to turn Shadow sapient, but it would improve his memory, and potentially boost his problem-solving skills.
Despite the two deaths, Shagg was extremely pleased with our progress. He even demanded we start experimenting on the original control group, the previously-untouched leopards in Habitat Two. Once again, I seriously considered filing a complaint against Shagg. If nothing else, for animal cruelty. He treated the poor cats terribly, often using shock prods on them so they’d learn to fear him. But he claimed to be under orders from the highest authorities on the Science Council, and for some reason I believed him.
Yes, I know. Looking the other way when animals are being mistreated… it’s not something I’m proud of. All I can say is that well-paying jobs are hard to come by on Cytrine Delta. I had every reason to believe that Shagg would have me blacklisted if I confronted him. And if I got the shaft, Shagg would just hire another lab assistant, someone who would obey his orders without question. For the animals’ sake, I needed to stick it out for as long as I could.
Another week went by, and a tech crew was assigned to upgrade our equipment. We had to consolidate some of our computer systems, as the techs kept dismantling our old hardware and carrying it away. The upgrades weren’t scheduled to come in until the following day, so we would be stuck with minimal systems for the rest of the day. That was fine, it wasn’t a particularly busy week. For the most part, we were just observing the leopards through their window, and noting any unusual activity.
After a while, several things started to strike me as odd. First off, the only female tech – I think they called her “Eena” – was treated as if she were a slave. She never spoke unless spoken to, she followed the others around at a respectful distance, and she just had this shrinking violet quality about her, like she was afraid to do anything that might offend the other techs. I tried talking to her a couple of times, but she just stared at me with a frightened look in her eyes. Her specialty seemed to be welding, as that was all they had her do, when she wasn’t helping carry things. Oddly, I never actually saw her welding device. I could have sworn I saw her using her finger to burn through one metal panel, but that’s just crazy, right?
I also noticed that the tech crew was doing a really sloppy job. They’d rip panels off the wall instead of unscrewing them, roughly unplug equipment in a way that could damage the cables, and generally seemed to care more about getting the job done quickly than carefully. I suppose it’s not too strange; this equipment was being replaced, after all. If the old equipment was destined for recycling, then it didn’t matter if it still worked when it got there.
But then, some of the equipment they took didn’t need to be upgraded. I saw one tech walk by with our emergency backup generator. That generator was only two months old, and a newer model wasn’t even on the market yet. I stopped the tech and asked him about it.
That’s when I noticed the tattoo on his wrist. He’d tried to cover it up with his sleeve, but I could see enough of it to recognize it immediately. It wasn’t the kind of thing most people would notice, but one of my partners is a true crime buff. It was the symbol of the Loothawks, a team of space pirates.
That’s modern piracy for you. They hadn’t come in with guns blazing, oh no. They’d come with fake credentials and stolen uniforms.
I like to think I’m an intelligent person. I may be a lowly lab assistant at the moment, but I’m doing well in my studies, top of my class in fact. I’m not arrogant about it - I hope - but I am proud of my mind. My social skills, on the other hand…
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Pirate?”
The pirate didn’t hesitate. He pulled out a gun and shot me in the chest. I looked down at my smoking torso, my mouth open in terror. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, my vision blurred, and I couldn’t breathe. I fell to the floor and watched as he barked orders to the other phony techs. They gathered as much equipment as they could haul, and headed out into the hallway, leaving me for dead. As the world faded away, my last thoughts were, Who’s going to feed Shadow when I’m gone?
I’ve had a cybernetic heart pump since I was thirteen. In fact, that’s what jump-started my interest in science in the first place. My heart isn’t one of the more advanced models. My parents were poor, but not quite poor enough to qualify for government medical assistance. We were in that one specific income bracket where you can’t get aid, but also can’t afford anything after you pay the bills each month.
It was the kind of life that seemed to invite judgment from every direction. People looked down on me for wearing patched-up, second-hand clothes. One time my cousin got a new comm unit, and she gave me her old one. Whenever I used it in public, I heard whispers of, “Her parents won’t buy her new clothes, but she has her own comm.” My parents made sacrifice after sacrifice, doing everything they could to scrape by, but in everyone else’s eyes, they were lazy and irresponsible.
And then I developed heart problems. My dad would have gladly sold himself into slavery if it meant saving my life. But he couldn’t even get a loan. With his poor credit, the insurance company wouldn’t approve the procedure.
But if there’s one thing that Cytrine Delta has plenty of, it’s opportunities for test subjects. A nearby lab actually paid us money for the opportunity to replace my heart. My heart pump isn’t pretty. Instead of a normal surgery scar, there’s a fist-sized metal plate in the middle of my chest, with an access hatch leading to the pump. Since it’s experimental, they wanted to keep it easy to access in case there was a problem. Every couple of years they give me a free upgrade, as they come up with ways to improve the device. I hope they add a coffee maker someday.
It’s not the implant I would have chosen if I’d had unlimited money. But so far it’s saved my life twice – first by replacing my defective heart, and later by protecting me from the pirate’s gun. The energy blast hit me right in the access plate, but didn’t go any deeper. The skin around it got singed, and the jolt was enough to knock me out for a couple of minutes, but I survived. While I don’t believe in miracles, I have to admit it was an improbable stroke of luck.
As I regained consciousness, the door reopened. Two pirates came back into the lab, dragging Doctor Shagg behind them. I played dead, keeping my eyes nearly shut and trying not to breathe. They opened the door to Habitat One, shoved Shagg into the enclosure, and locked him in. Then they left again.
As soon as they were gone, I climbed to my feet and ran to the window. Shagg stood, his back to the wall, as three giant leopards slowly approached him. The doctor was in a blind panic, shrieking and holding his hands in front of his face. The leopards seemed confused. He’d come into the habitat before, but he’d never shown fear.
Shagg turned and banged on the transparent door, staring at me with wild eyes. I pulled on the door, but it was locked. There used to be an emergency lever inside the habitat, which could unlock the door if someone got locked in. But a few days earlier, Shadow figured out how to activate the lever, so Shagg had us disable it. A more complicated lever was on back order.
I tried to remember the keypad combination, but my mind had gone blank. I used this code almost every day, but I swear, I just couldn’t bring it to my mind. Shagg started yelling numbers at me, but I couldn’t hear him through the window. I did my best to read his lips, but I’ve never been good at that. I typed in a number, but the screen flashed red.
The leopards stalked closer. Shagg cringed away from Shadow and his litter mates, P224-C and P224-E. This was the longest he had ever been in the habitat without using his shock prod on one of them. Shagg turned back to me, frantically making numbers with his fingers, trying to show me the correct combination. But he was so nervous, and his hands were shaking so hard, it was hard to get what he was saying. I noticed that he’d wet himself.
I typed another number, but again the code was rejected. I only had one more try before it would lock me out. I took a deep breath, cleared my mind, and tried to remember the code. It just wouldn’t come. I’m usually good under pressure, but between getting shot and knowing the pirates could come back at any moment, I just couldn’t get past the mental block.
And then I remembered it. Five nine three seven eight two. I had typed the first two digits when P224-E’s eyes started to glow. They’d never done that before. I hesitated, unable to believe what I was seeing. The leopard fired a pair of energy beams out of her eyes, hitting Shagg in the stomach. He fell down, holding his scorched stomach, and crawled away from the door.
Then P224-C approached him. The leopard opened his jaw, and some sort of mist sprayed out, hitting Shagg in the face. Whatever it was, it must have burned, because his face turned red and started peeling. He howled so loud I could almost hear it through the soundproof window.
I finished typing the last digits, and the door slid open. I was about to rush in and help Shagg, but C and E were already tearing into him, ripping him apart for meat. Only Shadow seemed uninterested in taking part in the feast. He gingerly stepped out of the habitat and nuzzled my hand.
“I’m sorry,” I told Shadow, bending over and hugging him around the neck. Then I turned and ran out of the lab, taking the hall opposite from the direction I’d seen the pirates head. I didn’t stop until I reached the police station.
The project was scrapped, and the Science Council declared Doctor Shagg’s data to be useless. An investigation eventually discovered that he’d been trying to develop biological weapons, in the hopes of selling them to the militaristic Grunthians.
The remaining animals were taken to a wildlife habitat where they could be studied for long-term effects. After I submitted my final report, I was transferred to another lab, where I worked with a much friendlier staff.
Shadow was not among the animals recovered. Since the pirates had taken the data drives, there was no security footage to show where the cat had gone. Nor were there any sightings by Vertex City’s citizens.
About a week later, I remembered that I had my own private feed. Because sometimes I’d needed to check up on the leopards from home, I’d set up the cameras to transmit their data to my personal cloud as well as save it to the lab’s drives. I examined the footage.
I had just fled the lab. Shagg’s killers were still feasting on his corpse, while Shadow walked around the outer lab, sniffing things. Further down the hall, another camera showed the last three remaining pirates carrying away large pieces of equipment. The woman, “Eena,” was having trouble dragging a large metal device down the hallway. She kept stopping to rest.
There wasn’t any sound, but one of the other pirates was clearly angry with her. He appeared to yell at her, and finally he punched her in the face. And then Shadow pounced on him. The third pirate pulled his weapon on the cat, but Eena stepped between them. He looked like he was about to shoot through her anyway.
But then the other pirate, the one on the floor, yelled something. He didn’t appear to be hurt, just restrained under Shadow’s massive paw. Eena said something to the cat, and he appeared to be soothed by her words. She petted him, he nuzzled her, and he finally released the pirate.
There seemed to be an immediate bond between Eena and the cat, similar to the bond I had with him. Maybe we smell alike, or it could be our demeanor, or maybe he just only likes women. I don’t know. But the other pirates seemed to recognize it too, and they allowed Eena to lead the leopard away.
And that’s the last I ever saw of Shadow. As far as I know, he left with the pirates, and is now living on a spaceship somewhere. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with him, but I hope he doesn’t get hurt. He was truly one of a kind, and I miss him every day.
Shadow, I hope you live a long, happy life, wherever you are.
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