Excerpts: Adrift

 

The following is an excerpt from Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood, Chapter 02.07. Some of it might make more sense in context.

ED.02500.08.15

Space is cold. You wouldn’t think that was a controversial opinion, but if you were to phrase it that way in front of Raven or Trenyn, you might find yourself the target of a mini-lecture about the nature of temperature. After all, temperature is the measurement of the kinetic energy of molecules, and in space there are no molecules to measure. Therefore, it’s more accurate to say space has no temperature, though it does tend to make things in it cold. Any heat transfer you might experience is actually the temperature of cosmic radiation, which… and this is the point where most listeners zone out, vowing to keep their mouths shut around science geeks.

But if, instead of asking a scientist, you were to ask Yna, who currently floated in the empty blackness without the benefit of a spaceship… She would inform you that yes, space is indeed very cold. Especially when you’re naked. As Yna floated helplessly, protected from the vacuum by her mysterious energy form, she wondered how she could still be alive. Or was she? Could this be the afterlife? Floating in nothingness for eternity?

I must be alive, she thought. I have to pee.

So apparently her energy form gave her the ability to survive in the void of space. This was an amazing realization. If she could survive here, she could survive anywhere. Well, except for underwater, of course. Water had a tendency to short-circuit her power. Still, the scientific implications were staggering. She had always assumed that her energy form consumed oxygen, like fire. Obviously, it did not. The practical possibilities were pretty impressive as well. In a pinch, she might be able to exit a spacecraft to do emergency welding on the outer hull.

But as quickly as all these thoughts went through her head, they were pushed aside by more urgent considerations. She was in space. She was light-years from anyone who knew her. No one knew exactly where she was. She had no way to send a message. While she could propel herself to some degree, it would take her a million years to reach the nearest planet, even if she knew which way to go.

And worse yet, she knew she couldn’t stay in her energy form for too long. She always got sick when she reverted to human form, and experience had taught her that the longer she was energized, the sicker she would be when human again. The longest she had ever managed to stay energized was just over two hours. And that time she had paid for it, by coughing up blood for hours and nursing a harsh sunburn for a week. Being energized also made her very tired. Sooner or later she would lose consciousness, at which time her body would automatically revert to human form. And when that happened here, trapped in the infinite emptiness, she would die.

She was screwed. 

Even if it was futile, there had to be something she could do. She tried sending out a telepathic message. Of course, she wasn’t telepathic, but there was little point piddling over the small details now. Some species could read the minds of non-telepaths. Maybe one was listening now.

Okay, probably not, but it was pointless to just float here waiting for death. She had to think... The research station! That would be the closest object to her in space. Of course it would still take many lifetimes for her to reach it, but at least it gave her a direction. But... what direction was that? Yna was good at starmapping, and had learned a bit about stellar navigation when she’d been a pirate. But that was in a cartographer’s study, with maps and pens and other instruments at her fingertips. Floating here, in an unfamiliar area of space, it was a lot different.

However. She’d been heading towards the research station when her ship had exploded. She had just come from Vikara Prime, and she knew that the station was towards the outer rim of the solar system. Yna rotated around, taking in all the stars, until she centered herself on Vikara’s sun. She considered. Would Vikara Prime be closer? Yna doubted it. Her ship had flown for a good while before it exploded. Besides, both Vikara Prime and the research station were both impossibly far away, so she was as good as dead whichever way she went. With that cheery thought, Yna turned herself directly away from the sun and propelled herself forward. Rationally she knew that she would never reach it before she died, but it was nice to have a destination. As she flew through space, she recalled the events that had brought her here. 

Bloodstone had sent her on a mission, to apprehend a rather cunning villain named Asdith. He was wanted for murder on twelve planets. There were at least four bounties on his head, from various sources. Bloodstone wasn’t even sure which bounty they would collect. They would probably just sell Asdith to the highest bidder. 

Yna found and caught Asdith quickly and easily. Too easily. She should have been more suspicious, but she was excited about having done such a good job. So excited that she nearly forgot her secondary mission. On her way back to the Bloodwind, she was to stop off at Vortal Station, a large research vessel that studied Marae. The Marae were a species of shapeshifters, like Yna’s crewmate Dervish. Until recently, Marae had only been found on one of Grunthar’s moons. The Grunthians even claimed to have engineered the species. But now a few had been discovered in the asteroid belt outside the Vikara system.

One Marae, Vraxx, had worked for Lord Vermon of Valos. Whisper believed that Vraxx framed IGP Officer Alterra Sarr for the destruction of the IGP Space Station. So Yna was asked to stop by Vortal Station and just see if they had more information on the species. Maybe Vraxx had visited the asteroid belt. Maybe the scientists had developed ways to track Marae. It was probably a pointless stop, but it never hurt to ask.

A few hours after Yna set a course for the station, she went to the back of her vessel to check on her prisoner. But what she found was a trap. Her “prisoner” was actually an android, an artificial duplicate of Asdith meant to throw bounty hunters off the scent. And doing a damn good job, Yna thought. Yna was just about to turn the ship back around, but the android had one more nasty surprise for her. 

When the android exploded, Yna reflexively changed to her energy form. The explosion ruptured Yna’s tiny ship, causing several smaller blasts throughout the vessel, and blowing Yna out into space. Which was a lucky deal, because otherwise she would still have been inside the ship when the engines finally joined the bandwagon and blew apart, all but vaporizing the ship.

And that’s how Yna came to be here, in the cold blackness, on a doomed course towards Vortal Station. She was moving pretty quickly, actually, but distances in space were something on the vast side, so she knew she would only get so far. After about an hour, Yna started to get tired. She looked behind her. Vikara’s sun didn’t look any farther away than it had when she started. Not that she expected it to. There weren’t a lot of options available to her at the moment, so Yna kept on going.

Another hour. Probably. Yna was exhausted. All she wanted was to turn off her power and go to sleep. And she was very tempted to do so. She could still see no sign of any space station, and she was starting to get dizzy. She was just contemplating taking a short break when something hit her. Something big. And then there was nothing.

Blackness. Alarms blaring in the distance. Mechanical whirring. Dull pain, followed by cool wind. A whoosh, a metallic clang - a door closing? Skin burning, then cooling. More mechanical whirring. Electronic beeping. Pinpricks. Blackness.

Yna dreamed of nothing. She slowly regained consciousness, one sense at a time. For several minutes she lay there, eyes closed, listening. A steady beep. A heart monitor, chiming at a calm rate. She wondered if it was hers. She opened her eyes slowly, dreading the light. Fortunately the room was dim. She was in some sort of... medical facility? Was this Vortal Station? She sat up and looked down at her body. She was naked, except for some wires and sensors stuck to her in various places. She was expecting third-degree burns, but her skin was fair and healthy.

Odd.

Yna looked around the room. No one else was present. She removed the wires from her body and tossed her legs over the side of the bed. Shakily she put her feet on the floor and tried to stand. She was a little weak, but overall she felt okay. She looked at her surroundings. There were fourteen beds. All of them were empty but one. The occupant of the last bed was covered by a bloodstained sheet. Yna nervously walked over to the bed.

Obviously the patient was dead. They wouldn’t just leave a bloody sheet draped over the body of a live patient, not over the head like that. And there wasn’t any monitoring equipment around this patient. Nothing scary, nothing to worry about. People die, even on space stations. But all the blood... Well, it was a research vessel after all, and they do sometimes have accidents in the name of science. Could have been a chemical explosion or something. 

But why was the body still just lying in the medical bay like this? Even if it was an autopsy, they should have rolled the body back into the freezer when they were done. Wouldn’t want him releasing any microbes and viruses and whatnot around live patients. 

And where were all the doctors?

Yna cautiously put her hand on the sheet. One quick look, just out of curiosity. It’s not disrespectful. She didn’t mean any harm. She just had to know. Yna took a deep breath and pulled back the sheet. And then she screamed.

It was a human woman. Or most of one. Her body had been ripped open from the base of the throat to her navel. But it wasn’t the surgical precision one would expect from an autopsy. The edges of her skin were jagged and ripped, like torn fabric. Several organs had been removed from her chest cavity, but not by a doctor - that much was obvious. Most of her ribs had been broken off, her heart and one lung were missing, her remaining lung was only half there, her stomach had been punctured, and her intestines were torn.

The woman had other wounds as well. She was missing an eye and an ear. She had several tears on her face, arms, neck, and chest. In some places shredded muscle hung out from the wounds, morbidly reminding Yna of pulled pork. Her left arm was badly broken, with splintered bone protruding from the skin. One of her legs was gone. It was missing from about mid-thigh. It looked as if it had been gnawed off. 

Yna had seen a lot of death in her lifetime. At times she had even been the one doing the killing. She had seen people shot, stabbed, blown up, and even ripped in half. She had always been able to distance herself from disturbing imagery, to disassociate herself from the horrors of reality and look at things rationally and calmly. But this woman - her one eye staring off into space, her bloody mouth open in an expression of horror - this woman chilled Yna to the bone, and made her sick to her stomach. Yna turned away, fell to her knees, and regurgitated.

Once she recovered, Yna stood up and explored a bit. She found a gown and put it on. The doorway was unlocked, but she didn’t want to leave this room just yet. Shouldn’t the doctors be back soon to check up on her? In hopes of learning something useful, Yna approached one of the nearby computers and browsed the system. The first thing she did was confirm what she already suspected - this was Vortal Station, the research vessel. A little more poking around and she found a map of the ship. She was indeed in the medical bay, which was adjacent to the main cargo airlock. Not the most popular configuration, but in this case it made sense - they were searching the asteroids for Marae, and the medbay would be the first stop for any they brought aboard.

The main bridge was three levels up and on the other end of the ship - really about as far from her as it could be. Yna tried to call the bridge, but the intercom didn’t work. Then she tried using the computer to locate the crew, but the search found nothing. Either the computer was broken or everyone else had evacuated. 

That was a chilling thought. Why would they evacuate? Well, obviously it had something to do with whatever killed her buddy over there. So, why not just stay in this room, and send a message? No good. All outside communications had to be done from the bridge. This kept the scientists from sharing - and selling - their discoveries behind their colleagues’ backs. So... to the bridge then. Or not. Yna was reluctant to leave this room without knowing what might be out there. She explored the computer further, stumbling across the ship’s logs.

First, she read the computer’s daily autolog. As she had guessed, she had been rescued by one of the station’s automatic probes. The probes were designed to scan the asteroids for anything unusual, especially life signs. Yna had been hit by an asteroid and knocked for a loop. A nearby probe then used its Levatech beam to pull her inside. Luckily she hadn’t reverted to her human form until she was inside the probe. Once inside the station, the medical droids must have gone to work on her.

How long had she been out? According to the computer, that had been two days ago. Well, this was all interesting, but it didn’t tell her what she needed to know. Yna began reading the message logs.

Message To Command 12453: 

We have set up our station near this asteroid field. This belt of debris was formed as the result of an exploded moon. The moon must have been the home to a community of Marae shapeshifters. A few Marae survived the explosion and continued to live on the asteroids. They are a hardy species - they require very little food and can breathe a variety of gases. Some have survived by burrowing into the rock and living off of the various chemical compounds. 

 The Marae are not easily found in the galaxy. This is only the second discovery of the species. The only other existing community of Marae is on the second moon of Grunthar, which houses their slave breeding labs. The Grunthians exercise absolute control over their Marae resources, and therefore this is the first time humans have had a chance to study this species.

 And it is a fascinating species. Their ability to change shape is unequaled in the galaxy. We look forward to studying this species as much as possible in the coming months.

 So far, every specimen we’ve rescued has died in our lab a few hours later. 

Message To Command 13422: 

We have acquired another specimen today. Due to the radioactivity of the asteroid belt, Marae 427 has lost most of his shapeshifting ability. When we found him, he had degenerated into a mass of tentacles without the ability to maintain cohesion. Wild Marae are often non-sapient, surviving on instinct and achieving self-awareness only after encountering other cultures. This Marae, however, appears to be rather intelligent, and has even tried to communicate with us.

 

Message to Command 13512: 

Marae 427 has given himself a name. “Xox” has picked up our language quite easily and now has perfectly normal conversations with us. We have constructed an outfit for him which allows him to walk freely about the ship, despite his lack of cohesion.

 

Message to Command 13515: 

Xox has escaped. Sometime during the night he disabled our security programs and stole a shuttle. The irony is that we were working on a treatment that might have eventually cured his shapeshifting disability.

 

While Yna found the story interesting, it didn’t tell her what was going on right now. She skipped ahead a few months and continued.

Message to Command 13624: 

We found another live one. Marae 521 is much larger than other Marae we’ve encountered. He is also more malleable: his shapeshifting ability is the greatest we’ve seen so far. However, the time spent in space and the radiation from the asteroid have rendered him insane. At first, we thought that he was simply having trouble achieving sapience, but we soon discovered he possesses a cunning intelligence. His violent sociopathic behavior has forced us to keep him confined to a cell.

 

Message to Command 13628: 

Please send help. It’s loose. I’m the only one left. Please sen 

AUTOSAVED. 

MESSAGE TIMED OUT. 

 

“Blazes,” Yna said, and stood back from the computer. She held her hand out in front of her and tried to ignite it with energy. Nope. Just as she suspected, she couldn’t change into her other form just yet. Her body needed to recuperate first. If she was going to make it to the bridge alive, she would need a weapon. There wasn’t much in this room. Yna rummaged through the medical instruments. Finally, she found an AON scalpel. It was a decent weapon; the superheated blade was designed both to cut and to cauterize. It wasn’t very large, but holding it made Yna feel less vulnerable. 

She tried to find a better weapon, but apparently someone else had already picked out the best stuff. Yna thought for a minute. She had been in the medical bay for two days. If the Marae was still on board, it obviously would have had time to get to her by now. So either it didn’t know she was here, or it couldn’t get into the medical lab. That was promising. The final message log had been written five days ago. According to the computer, the author had written it from the bridge. Which made sense, because that was the only place you could send a message. That wasn’t good.

Okay, but that was five days ago. There was no reason to believe the Marae was still up there. It could be anywhere in the vessel, returning to its previous kills for further nourishment. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it might be Yna’s only chance for survival. Yna used the computer to call up a map of the ship. She studied all the routes, committing them to memory as best as she could. She considered the most direct route and all alternate routes. 

Would the maintenance tunnels be safer? Maybe that would be less conspicuous. Then again, she knew nothing about this creature. It might have made those tunnels its home. At least in the hallways she would have room to move around. Okay then. Direct route it was. Yna approached the entrance to the medlab. She took a deep breath and opened the hatchway.

The hallway was deserted. Yna’s footsteps, while nearly silent for lack of footwear, still made an echoing rhythmic thud that resounded through the hallway. At least they sounded that way to Yna, whose senses were heightened with fear. After a few minutes, she became aware of a loud breathing sound. She almost panicked before she realized that it was her own. 

She made it to the lift without incident. If this creature was still alive and on board, it wasn’t on this level. Yna entered the lift and pressed the button for the bridge. The doors slid closed, and the lift hummed as it started towards its destination. Then it stopped, much too early, with a shuddering thud. Yna gasped. She pushed the buttons, but there was no response. She tried to pry the doors open, but they wouldn’t budge. 

Only one thing to do. Yna opened the top hatch and climbed through. Something was stuck in the elevator’s track, preventing it from moving further. There was very little light, so Yna used the AON scalpel to illuminate the track. She found a foreign object wedged in the track, and moved closer to investigate. Yna nearly shrieked. It was a human head.

Yna looked around and listened, but she was still alone. Still, knowing that it had been here, that it could still be here, in the shadows, gave Yna chills. But she knew she couldn’t stay here, or hide in the lift. 

Or could she? That was one possibility. She could go back into the lift, seal the hatch, and wait there until she was rested enough to change to her other form. Once she could use her energy form, she would be a much more formidable opponent.

But that wouldn’t work, for obvious reasons. First off, she had no idea how long it would be before she would be able to change forms again. She could starve to death first. Second, there was no reason to believe that this creature wouldn’t be able to break into the lift. And third, until she sent some sort of distress call from the bridge, there was no reason to believe help was coming. She was alone. She had to get a move on, and soon.

Yna couldn’t fix the lift. She didn’t want to spend any more time in the elevator shaft than necessary, but it looked like the only way to get any farther would be to climb. Small rungs lined the sides of the shaft, which she now used. Before she even got underway, however, something stopped her. A noise, from above. Some sort of groaning, which echoed down the shaft.

Oh, crap, thought Yna. She pulled out her AON scalpel and ignited the blade. Warily she looked upwards, for some sign of movement. And then she saw it. Only it wasn’t a monster she saw, but rather the bottom of another lift. It was shaking. Something was inside it, moving around. The lift began to move downwards, towards Yna. If it reached her, it would crush her. Yna had to get out of the shaft, and now. Yna was just a few meters below the door to the second level of the ship. She climbed the rungs until she was next to the hatchway, and looked for a way to open it. 

Above, the elevator shook noisily. Something snapped, and a wheel plummeted down the shaft, clanging its way from wall to wall, just passing Yna on its way down. The lift above lurched and squealed, and then moved towards Yna at high velocity. Yna quickly found the door override switch, and the entry door swooshed open. At the last possible second, she threw herself into the hallway, the elevator just missing her as it fell down the shaft. There was an explosive crash as it collided with the other lift. Smoke filled the hallway.

Yna looked back at the elevator shaft. It was now completely blocked. She stood there, scalpel ready, expecting a shapeshifting monster to burst from the rubble at any moment. Had the Marae been in the elevator above when it fell? Yna knew she had heard something moving around in it, but that could have just been the beginning of its fall, combined with her nervous imagination. And if the creature had been inside, was it dead now?

She would have to find another way to the next level. Remembering the map, Yna knew that there was another elevator at the other end of the ship. Alternatively, she could take the maintenance tunnels to a higher place in the elevator shaft. But she still didn’t like that idea. Nope, she would have to go the long way. The upside to this was that by taking the hallway she might find some supplies or an armory or something.

Yna proceeded down the hallway. It was very quiet. Yna’s heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears. She was about to turn a corner, but she stopped. There was a smell... it wasn’t a good smell. And... movement? No... the lights were flickering in that direction. Yna had seen a similar short in the lights on the lower level. Yna stood, her back to the wall, wondering if she should turn the corner. On the one hand, if the creature had been in the elevator, then it was behind her now. Or still on the upper level, where the second lift had originated. Either way, the Marae would not be in this hallway. 

On the other hand, the movement in the elevator might have been her imagination. And she really had no idea what she was dealing with. Yna pondered this, but not for too long. She couldn’t keep second-guessing herself. She could keep going back and forth between routes forever, but the only way out of this was to make a decision and proceed. Yna mustered all her energy and turned the corner.

There was a man on the floor. Or at least most of one. The corpse, bloated and mangled, lay in a large puddle of blood. Flesh had been gouged out from numerous locations. Much like the body in the medlab, this one had been cut open, and many of its organs were gone. And from his mouth protruded a strange bumpy cable. This thick gray cord extended from the man’s face, up the side of the wall, and into the air ducts. And it was moving. Pulsating. The dead man’s jaw opened and closed as the tentacle convulsed.

Shocked, Yna dropped the scalpel. The gray vine reacted instantly, withdrawing itself from the corpse’s mouth and facing Yna. The end of the tentacle sported a mouth of its own, filled with many needle-like teeth. Yna could only stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. The tentacle bubbled, and from the left side, one bump split open to reveal a bloodshot eyeball. One which centered on Yna. The rest of the creature’s gray mass began to pour from the air duct. As it hit the floor, it started to re-form itself.

Yna didn’t stick around to see what this form would be. She was off like a shot, running at top speed in the other direction. She picked a door at random and went inside, shutting and locking the door behind her. Yna looked around for some sort of weapon. She was in a laundry room. Nothing of use in here, unless this creature was allergic to chlorine bleach. Yna doubted it. She stood there for a minute, listening. She heard something moving in the hallway. A sort of half-step, half-slither. The sound passed by her without stopping. 

Yna, now feeling very helpless, went through the laundry until she found some actual clothing. She found a blue jumpsuit and hastily put it on. Then she looked around the room for other exits. The laundry chute. She was on the second level now; the chute would lead up to the crew deck. A definite improvement, it would get her both closer to the bridge and farther from the monster.

The laundry chute was a little tight, but Yna managed to squeeze into it. It was a difficult climb, as the chute was mostly vertical, but she made it. As she pulled herself out of the top of the chute, she thought she heard some noises from down in the laundry room. She listened carefully but heard nothing further. Hopefully, it was just her imagination. She closed the chute behind her and started down the hallway.

She wasn’t that far from the elevator shaft. Running as fast as she could, Yna reached the shaft, opened the doors, and climbed up the next level. But when she reached the hatchway to the bridge, the doors wouldn’t open. She tried hitting the override switch, but they wouldn’t budge. Severely disappointed, Yna climbed back down the shaft, arriving once again on the crew deck.

Yna explored a few rooms, looking for one with a working computer. The first room she entered was a crew quarters, with all the amenities, including another mangled corpse and a smashed computer. The next room she tried was more promising: no corpse, and a working computer. Yna sat down and searched the logs for information pertaining to the bridge. It turned out that the door wouldn’t open because the bridge wasn’t safe to enter. Apparently, there had been a hull breach, and the bridge was now completely without oxygen.

Yna thought through this for a while. She could try to find a pressure suit, and then attempt to enter the bridge from the outside... probably not a good idea. The computers up there probably didn’t even work anymore. Which meant, once again, that Yna was screwed. 

Yna poked around some more, looking for anything that might help her. The crewman who had once occupied this room kept an encrypted journal. Yna looked around the room for clues to the password. She took a couple of guesses, then got locked out. A pop-up prompted her to reset the password, and she clicked OK. She pulled up the crewman’s e-mail, which was already logged in, and had just received a “password reset” message. Within a few moments, Yna had access to the journals.

Dr. Morvik Personal Journal 13626: 

I hate working with fools. The other scientists don’t realize the military applications these creatures could have. They’re so short-sighted. They should realize that it’s not about research, it’s about profit. The government’s not going to fund their projects if they’re not pulling in money.

 The Grunthians make a tidy sum by selling their bodyguards and harem girls, but with my experimental Marae steroid, the Grunthians can build an army of powerful shapeshifting soldiers. And so what if they use their new army to conquer other planets? Even if they conquer Earth, I don’t care. I’ll be retired and living on Valos by then.

Dr. Morvik Personal Journal 13627: 

It’s done. The Marae is loose. It will be another week before I can leave, but I should be safe in this room. The door is reinforced, and the air vent isn’t connected to the main ventilation system. If the Marae does try to break in here, I have built a sonic transmitter that will calm him. One more week and my Grunthian transport will arrive, taking me to a new life of luxury.

Yna kept reading Morvik’s logs. Interesting. So it wasn’t radiation that had caused this Marae’s mutation after all. This Doctor Morvik had been planning to betray them all along. He was planning to escape on a Grunthian ship. Yna quickly pulled up the ship’s security cameras on the computer. And there it was, pulling into the landing bay. “The rendezvous ship!” Yna said aloud, and stood up. She turned, ready to head out the door...

...And found herself facing the business end of an energy pistol. The wielder was a short, balding man with a sneer on his face. “Doctor Morvik, I presume,” Yna said, putting her hands in the air.

“Who are you?” he asked nervously. “How much do you know?”

He must think I’m law enforcement, Yna thought. “Okay, you caught me,” Yna said. “I was just the first scout. The IGP is on its way. But if you’ll let me go, and help me get off this ship, I won’t tell them what I’ve found.”

Morvik considered this proposal. “You’re lying,” he finally decided. He raised his weapon, aiming it at Yna’s head.

Yna didn’t flinch. Her expression remained neutral. Calmly, she explained, “If you kill me, the IGP will definitely show up and arrest you. However, if you take me to a transmitter, I’ll call them and tell them not to come.”

Morvik shook his head. “You’re no cop. And even if you are, I’ll be long gone by the time they get here. And this vessel won’t be here either. It’s on a collision course for the asteroid field.” He held the gun up again, ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly there was a loud pounding at the door. Morvik instinctively turned his head. In that brief moment of distraction, Yna lunged at the scientist and grabbed for the gun. She gripped his wrist tightly, preventing him from aiming at her.

Morvik punched her in the face with his free hand, but he wasn’t very fit and Yna recovered quickly. She kneed him in the stomach, still holding tight to his gun hand. As she fought for control of the weapon, Yna’s fingers began to burn. 

Yna’s left hand, now clasped around Morvik’s gun and fingers, glowed a bright blue. There was a quick, intense blast of heat, and Morvik’s hand was melted to the gun. The scientist screamed in pain and cradled his misshapen hand. Yna jumped backward, considering her next course of action. She couldn’t waste any more time fighting this man. Yna put her back to the wall, next to the door. She pressed the button to leave. As the door slid open, the angry Marae burst into the room, headed right past Yna. Yna quickly jumped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. 

As she ran down the hall, she wondered if this was the last she would see of Morvik. If he managed to reach his sonic transmitter, he would survive. But if he was still preoccupied with his mangled hand, the creature would devour him before he could stop it. Either way, Yna had to get to the landing bay as soon as possible.

The landing bay was back on the lowest level, and it took several minutes of exploration to find it. Yna sneaked into the large landing area, staying in the shadows. The ship sat in the bay, and two armed Grunthians stood outside the doors, waiting. Yna would have to sneak aboard the ship and hide. Whether Morvik showed up or not, the Grunthians would have to leave before the research vessel hit the asteroid field. But sneaking aboard could be difficult.

Yna was an experienced pirate. Stowing away was her specialty. The ship’s door stood wide open, so all she really needed to do was distract the guards. But how to do that?

Then an echoing scream came from down the hall. Both Grunthians approached the noise, weapons raised. Yna swiftly sneaked behind them, and went through the door. Once inside, she found a storage locker large enough to fit in. It was pitch black, but she could still hear weapons fire and screaming.

Three sets of footsteps ran into the ship, and the door closed. There was a lot of shaking from outside the small craft. The ship lifted off and blasted away from the science vessel. Once things had calmed down, Yna listened carefully to the occupants of the ship.

“Whew, thanks. I thought I was dead back there,” said Morvik.

“Where is the formula for the Marae steroid?” said a Grunthian voice.

“In due time,” Morvik said.

“Now. Or you will die.”

“I don’t have it written down,” Morvik replied. “It’s all in my head. I will tell it only to your scientists, and only when we reach the Grunthian moon.”

The Grunthian growled in disappointment. It was clear that they had been planning to kill him once they received the steroid. Morvik must have had experience in dealing with such unsavory types. Yna wondered what Morvik’s plan was once he got to Grunthar. Well, it wasn’t her problem. All Yna had to do was hope she remained undiscovered, and then steal this ship once it was empty.

It was a promising plan, and it might have worked if Morvik hadn’t needed medical supplies for his hand. When the supply locker opened, Yna once again found herself face-to-face with the mad doctor. “You!” he shouted. Both Grunthians, weapons drawn, stood up and regarded the stowaway. Morvik ordered them to kill her, and they were more than willing to comply. They aimed their weapons...

And once more Yna was rescued by events beyond her control. The ship shook violently, knocking all the occupants from wall to wall. All eyes turned to the front of the ship, where they beheld a terrifying sight. The forward window, usually offering a panoramic view of the stars, was completely covered by a shapeless gray mass. One large pseudopod hammered relentlessly at the window, finally cracking it. 

Yna wondered, It can survive the vacuum of space? Then, Well, duh, that’s where they found it. The ship’s four passengers looked on in horror, unable to prevent what was about to happen. One final punch and the window shattered. Everything that wasn’t welded down got blown out the window. The Marae used one leathery tentacle to latch onto the pilot’s seat. As the ship’s occupants flew past it, the Marae grabbed Dr. Morvik with another appendage and bit his head off.

Yna’s survival instincts took over, and once again she found herself in her energy form, floating helplessly in space. One of the dead Grunthians floated past her, and Yna grabbed him. His flesh sizzled from her touch, but she held on tight and searched his outfit for anything she could use, like a communicator. Of course, there were all kinds of reasons she wouldn’t have been able to use a communicator even if she had found one, but she was in a hopeless situation and therefore grasping at straws.

It was pitch black in space, especially at this time of night. But Yna’s energy form gave off a blue glow which helped her search the Grunthian’s corpse. She found nothing but his sidearm, which wasn’t going to be of much use to her. Yna clung to the corpse, parts of which gradually burned away from her touch. The vacuum of space prevented the corpse from actually catching on fire. Instead, it just slowly melted in the spots she touched. 

For the seventh time this mission, Yna knew that this was the end. She wouldn’t be able to stay in her energy form for as long this time, she was still too weak. She simply had no options.

In the distance, Yna could just make out the lights of the decompressed Grunthian ship from which she had been expelled. There was no longer anyone at the helm, but apparently the autopilot mode was still working. It would continue on its original course until it was recovered by the Grunthians or someone else.

If the Marae was still in it, they might be able to extract the steroid from its system. Or even if not, they might be able to use the Marae itself to breed a more powerful type of warrior. Either way, it was giving the Grunthians more power than Yna wanted them to have. Yna considered. If she was going to die in space anyway, she might as well do something productive with her time.

Yna drew the dead Grunthian’s weapon. She aimed carefully, using the long-range scope, and fired several shots at the escaping ship. Her third shot hit its mark, piercing the ship’s engines and causing a bright but quickly extinguished explosion. If the Marae was still inside, it would be toast. That done, Yna released the weapon and corpse, allowing them to float free into eternity. She watched them coast casually away, the gun still bright white from where she had gripped it. It was soon just a pinprick of light in the distance, lost among the other tiny pinpricks of light. 

Yna realized that one of the pinpricks was moving closer. What the hell? Was the gun coming back? She squinted, but she couldn’t make out any details. All she could tell was that a light was moving towards her. Yna was anxious, not wanting to get her hopes up, but still bristling with curiosity. 

When it finally got near, Yna saw that it was a glowing ship of strange design. It was round, with no engine or jetstream or any of the features you would expect from a ship. Yna wasn’t even sure how she knew it was a ship, except that something in the back of her memory told her it was. It had no windows, but the entire vessel had a transparent quality to it. 

Inside the ship, she saw several people watching her. They were human-shaped, but featureless, with bright glowing skin. Yna felt an immediate kinship with them. The ship got closer, and she could feel herself being pulled toward it. Soon, all she could see was the bright light emanating from the ship. 

Light... and then darkness. 

Yna woke in a medical bay, covered with a thin turquoise blanket. A medical technician saw her stir and came over to check up on her.

“Where am I?”

“You’re safe. You’re on Outpost Station 4132. You had some burns when you arrived, but they’re almost gone. Is there someone you would like us to contact?”

“How... how did I get here?”

“We’ve been wondering that ourselves. You were dropped off, we think.”

“By who?”

“We don’t know,” the med tech said. “Our computers went glitchy, then alerted us that an airlock had been activated. You were inside, unconscious, nude, and covered in burns. What happened to you?”

Yna stared off into space. “I think... I think it was a family reunion.”

Far away, a large chunk of metal debris floated through space. It had once been the hull of a small Grunthian craft, but now it was just a tangle of twisted junk. Clinging to this useless scrap of machinery, however, was something decidedly nonmetallic. This “something” was gray, shapeless, grotesque... and moving.

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Excerpts: The Chauffeur

The following is an excerpt from Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood, Chapter 02.01. A portion of the ending has been excluded to avoid potential spoilers.

ED.02500.02.10

Sigran “Siggy” Trihannen leaned against the inside wall of the trash bin, trying to catch his breath. Had he lost his pursuer? He thought so. He hadn’t seen any sign of him for three blocks. Still, this wasn’t just any old bounty hunter he was fleeing. Siggy put his ear up to the side of the bin, listening for footsteps. Nothing. He waited another five minutes before daring to push up on the lid for a peek at his surroundings.

The lid wouldn’t open. That was interesting. He pushed a bit harder, but it didn’t give. Siggy hadn’t always been claustrophobic, but the past few months in prison had changed him. Now that he might be trapped, the oxygen seemed thinner in a way it hadn’t just a minute ago. Were these things airtight? He didn’t think so, but that was the type of trivia he’d rather look up online than test in person. Slogging through trash juice, he pushed his way to the other side of the bin and tried the lid there. It didn’t give a bit.

“Not good,” he murmured. He pushed harder and harder, until finally he banged on the inside of the lid, his fear of suffocation drowning out his desire to stay hidden. “Hey!” he shouted. Something on top of the lid shifted, then slid off onto the ground. Siggy gave one final push, throwing the lid back, only to find an energy blaster pointed at his face.

“Don’t try anything,” an electronically-enhanced voice said. Siggy saw his own horrified face reflected in the blood-red domed helmet of his captor. Oh well, at least there was no shame in getting caught by Bloodstone.

It was a long drive back to the prison. Siggy sat in the back of a sleek black hovercar. There were no buttons or switches back here, no way to open the doors. A sheet of unbreakable glass separated him from his captor-slash-chauffer. Siggy looked out the windows. It was the mother of all traffic jams. The freeway was four lanes wide and three lanes high, and every lane was at a standstill. Siggy wondered if his escape had had anything to do with the traffic. He’d caused a few explosions earlier to distract the police; that kind of thing tended to affect the local traffic. 

Well, this is it, he thought. The last car ride I’ll ever get. His escape hadn’t been planned. He actually took advantage of another prisoner’s attempt to escape, running off while the cops were busy catching the first guy. The other prisoner had been planning his escape for three months, but it took Siggy less than a second to plot his own. Not that his escape had been successful, but he sure made it farther than the other guy. Siggy had a knack for making the most of an opportunity, and he started to wonder if this traffic jam might be another one.

“Look, can we talk?” Siggy said to the driver.

“No,” the bounty hunter said.

Siggy sighed. “Any chance you could stop by a restroom? I really need to go.”

“I doubt that,” Bloodstone answered. “You already wet yourself when I caught you.”

Siggy looked down and realized the bounty hunter was correct. With all the trash juice on his legs, he hadn’t even noticed. The combination of smells in the backseat was starting to make his eyes water. “I just want to clean up a little. Can you at least crack a window back here?”

“No.” But Bloodstone did press a button on the dashboard, increasing the air circulation in the back seat. Clean air blew in, stale air was sucked out, and the stench became a bit more bearable.

Hmmm, Siggy thought. So the bounty hunter did have a heart after all. Or maybe he just didn’t want his captive getting sick all over this nice car. Siggy went back to studying his surroundings. He knew better than to try smashing the windows. Not only would they be unbreakable, but he wanted to stay on Bloodstone’s good side, such as it was. There were no other potential exits – double-sealing doors, no control panels, no hatches in the roof or floor, no behind-the-seat passage to the trunk. It was a custom-built vehicle, and the backseat was specifically designed to be a mobile prison cell.

But there was always psychology. Siggy believed things happened for a reason. His execution was supposed to be tomorrow; why would he be presented with an opportunity to escape, if he wasn’t meant to take it? And this traffic jam was obviously another gift from fate, he just had to figure out how he was meant to use it. Maybe he could talk his captor into helping him. It was a long shot, but he’d always been good at long shots.

“You know I’m sentenced to death, right? And that my execution is tomorrow?”

“Yes.” It was like talking to a computer.

“So by turning me back in, you’re basically killing me.”

No response. Siggy was pretty good at reading body language, but Bloodstone just kept both hands on the wheel with no change in posture.

“I was framed, you know. You’re killing an innocent person.”

Bloodstone appeared to take a deep breath before answering. “That’s for the courts to decide. And they did. You are guilty of murder, and you will be punished by the authorities. My only job is to bring you in.”

Siggy hadn’t expected to get so many words out of the stoic bounty hunter. This was good. Maybe he could coax out a few more. Get him talking, get a dialogue going, and he would see Siggy as more than just a job. Maybe even see him as a victim.

“I understand,” Siggy said. “We all have our roles in life, why try to break the mold?”

No answer, not even a twitch.

“But the truth will come out after I’m gone. And you’ll have to live with that on your conscience forever.”

Bloodstone appeared to sigh at this. Siggy wasn’t sure if he was getting through, or just irritating his captor. Probably the latter.

“Well, I’m just going to talk, okay? After this, they’re going to push the execution through as quickly as possible, so this is my last chance to tell anyone the true story. If you don’t want to listen, that’s fine, but I have to get this off my chest.”

Bloodstone nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“I never wanted to be a criminal. I don’t like hurting people. But I had to steal to survive, living on the streets. I had to join a gang for the shelter and protection they offered. I was only a kid when my parents kicked me out.”

“Why?” Bloodstone’s head was cocked slightly.

What was this? Actual interest? Was this a shared experience? Siggy wasn’t going to waste it, though.

“Well, the first thing you have to know is that I was born a girl. I’m transgender.”

Bloodstone only nodded, but body language told Siggy that this was new information to the bounty hunter. The local judicial system had its flaws, but they were impeccable when it came to privacy. Siggy could tell Bloodstone was trying hard not to react. For whatever reason, he had the hunter’s full interest.

“I got lucky. Really lucky. It turns out my gang’s leader had a sister who was trans. The sister had killed herself. They were very understanding.” 

Bloodstone nodded slowly, and sat up a little straighter.

Siggy sensed a connection. He was good at that. Much like the mythical Aurorans, his species had a knack for body language. The Knarvans came from a planet with a thin atmosphere, where sound didn’t travel particularly well. His people used hand signals and body language for most communication. While Aurorans supposedly used this skill to develop their unique martial arts, the Knarvans mostly used their skill for socialization. They made great negotiators, politicians, and con artists. 

Siggy had gleaned more intel from the position of Bloodstone’s shoulders than from anything the bounty hunter had actually said. He didn’t know what the connection might be, but something was definitely there. Had Bloodstone also grown up on the streets? Or maybe he had a family member who was transgender? Siggy knew better than to ask. If he did, Bloodstone would retreat into his shell and become a brick wall for the rest of the ride.

“My parents came to this planet when I was just a baby,” Siggy continued. “They weren’t rich, but they made good money. They weren’t abusive, but they were strict. They weren’t ethical, but they had traditional values. I have eight identical sisters. That’s how my people are born – in litters, usually about eight to twelve. But I always knew I was different. I knew before I could even walk.”

Siggy intentionally paused a few seconds longer than he normally would have. When he finally saw Bloodstone’s head turn a bit to the side, he knew the bounty hunter was invested, waiting for Siggy to continue. Good.

“It was like... It was like I was wearing a costume. I was wearing a girl suit, and the zipper was stuck. And I didn’t hate the costume. It was a nice costume. But whenever I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see me, I saw the costume. And the older I got, the more uncomfortable the costume got. The worse it felt that I never saw my own face in the mirror. The more frustrating it was that everyone recognized me by my costume, but didn’t know the real me.”

Bloodstone nodded, and Siggy kept talking. “I confided in my sisters, hoping for a shared experience, hoping to find someone to talk to. But none of them felt the same way. Weird, isn’t it? All of us are identical, and yet...” he trailed off. “Anyway, one of my sisters outed me to our parents, and I was out on the street.” 

“That is unfortunate,” Bloodstone said.

“So yeah, I joined the gang to survive, and stole so I could eat and buy hormones. And to hopefully save up for my transition. This went on for years. I kept saving and saving, but crime just doesn’t pay much. With every big score there was a setback. At the rate I was going, I would be ancient by the time I could afford any operations. And then one day… an opportunity presented itself.”

“The Valmer Estate,” Bloodstone said.

Excellent, Siggy thought. We’ve gone from mild interest to full-on interaction. By the time we’re out of this traffic jam, Bloodstone will be begging to set me free.

“Yes,” the captive confirmed. “It was my sister Sephra who tipped me off. She’d been working for the Valmers as a maid. She knew all their security passwords, and when they’d be on vacation.”

“But I thought your family was estranged?” Bloodstone asked.

“She sought me out. She said she wanted to be a family again, despite our parents’ wishes. And of course, she knew I had thieving skills. I was so starved for family that I didn’t question it.”

“So she offered to give you all the information you needed to rob the place, in return for which you’d split the money,” Bloodstone said.

“Exactly! So, I waited until the Valmers were on vacation, wrote down all their security codes and procedures, and went to work. Only…”

“Only they weren’t on vacation after all.”

“Yeah… I thought the house was empty, but they were just asleep. I heard footsteps, saw Mr. Valmer, he shouted something, and I ran. That’s it. I didn’t kill them, I swear. I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Your hand was found at the crime scene,” Bloodstone said. “Sliced off by Mrs. Valmer’s AON knife.”

“I’ve never lost a hand in my life,” Siggy answered, holding up both hands in protest.

“Except your species can regenerate limbs,” Bloodstone said. “A fact you tried to hide at your trial.”

They were out of the traffic jam now, on the final stretch of road to the prison. Siggy didn’t have much time left. “Yeah, my lawyer’s an idiot,” he lamented. “He didn’t think the prosecutor would come across that bit of trivia. He said when I showed up with two hands, it was going to be an open-and-shut case. But when the prosecutor spouted that little fact, it just made me look that much guiltier. But that wasn’t my hand they found, I swear!”

Bloodstone sighed. “The hand was a one hundred percent match with your DNA.” The exasperated I’m-tired-of-your-lies tone said it all. The experienced hunter had probably had similar conversations with hundreds of captives over the years.

“I told you, I have identical sisters.”

The hovercar slowed down a little. 

“Sephra… betrayed me. Her plan, right from the start, was to kill her employers, steal what she could, and blame me. She chose me as her patsy because I had a criminal record, and because she hates trans people.”

The car pulled over to the side of the road. Siggy trembled with anticipation. Had he gotten through to the hunter?

“Why didn’t you mention this at the trial?” Bloodstone asked.

“At that point, I knew I was being framed, but I didn’t know it was by her,” Siggy answered. “I couldn’t believe she would do that to me, and I didn’t want to do anything that might place the blame on her. It wasn’t until later, when she visited me in prison, that she made her transphobic attitude clear.”

Bloodstone pushed a button on the car’s center console. Much to the captive’s disappointment, it wasn’t the button to open the back doors. A holo screen blinked on, hovering a few centimeters in front of the center console. “Computer,” Bloodstone said. “Hack into Sigran Trihannen’s case documents.”

A loading bar briefly crossed the screen, and a computer voice announced, “Documents found.”

Bloodstone tapped the air, swiping through several pieces of evidence on the holographic screen, finally enlarging one. It was a chemical breakdown of the hand that had been left at the crime scene. “Includes traces of artificial testosterone,” Bloodstone read aloud.

Uh oh. “Well, see, Sephra is also transgender...” 

“You just said she was transphobic. And you keep calling her ‘she.’ A trans person would never misgender someone that way.”

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t Sephra. I have seven identical sisters...”

“Eight.”

“Yes! I meant I’m one of eight. Look...” The story was falling apart. “Listen, I have money stashed away. Whatever they’re paying you to bring me in, I can double it. Triple it!”

Bloodstone made a disgusted sound, pulling the car back onto the road. “Are you even actually trans?”

“Yeah,” Siggy said. “That part was true.” They didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride.

The final stretch of road was a long bridge over the rough, choppy waters of Lake Maligna. It was an artificial lake created specifically for the island prison, full of sharp rocks, toxic water, and genetically-modified piranha. The lake’s rotten egg odor made Siggy’s stomach lurch, even from this height with the windows sealed. It made his own trash-and-urine-soaked pants smell mild by comparison. The bounty hunter in the front seat appeared to be unaffected, probably because of that fancy helmet’s filtering system.

Siggy grew more anxious the closer they got. “Look,” he said, panic raising his voice half an octave. “I’m sorry I lied before, but it’s death we’re talking about. You’d do the same if it was your neck.” No reaction. Time was short, so he started talking faster. “Just hear me out. Yes, I’m guilty. As per this planet’s privacy laws, they kept my gender out of the news during the trial. Court evidence remains encrypted for a hundred years, by which time I’ll be long forgotten. They sent me to a unisex prison with a private cell. Even the warden doesn’t know I was born female. As far as the world is concerned, I’ve always been a guy. But after my death, the coroner isn’t bound by the same laws as the judicial system. My birth sex will be made public, and I will become a joke. All I’m asking is for a chance to die with dignity, as a man. Don’t let them make me into a joke.”

They finished crossing the bridge, and parked the hovercar in the outer courtyard near the gatehouse. Bloodstone got out and took in the scenery. A stone monolith stood in the center of the courtyard, engraved with the words: JUSTICE IS RARELY KIN TO MERCY. – ZURA CHIPRYSS III. There was a picnic area here for who-knows-what reason, and a spectacular panoramic view of the planet’s ugliest lake. Beyond the gatehouse, an electrified fence, and a laser grid, the prison itself was a featureless black box that stretched way too far up in the sky. It reminded Bloodstone of a giant anvil, partially buried and abandoned by a long-extinct race of titans.

Two guards and a processing agent came out of the gatehouse to greet the bounty hunter. Bloodstone opened the back door and grabbed Siggy roughly by the wrist. As he was being pulled from the car, Siggy felt something being shoved into his hand. He clenched his fist, not knowing what he was holding but determined to keep whatever it was. Then he was handed off to the guards. Bloodstone spoke to the agent while the guards led Siggy away. As the officer marked the bounty complete on his datapad, authorizing the payment, there was a commotion in the distance. Bloodstone and the agent turned their heads just in time to see a flash of light and some smoke. 

The two guards were on the ground, looking confused and dizzy. Siggy ran towards the edge of the grounds. “Stop him!” the processing agent shouted, and Bloodstone patted an empty holster. It was too late to catch Siggy, who reached the outer guardrail and hurled himself over the side. Everyone ran to the edge and studied the waters far down below. There was already a foamy mass of activity as the mutant piranha skeletonized their victim. Within seconds, there would be nothing left to identify. 

Sirens blared overhead, and more guards appeared. Too little, too late. The prison’s reputation for being inescapable had made the staff arrogant, and their reflexes were slow. There would be a major inquiry after this, and a lot of retraining.

“I apologize,” Bloodstone said to the processing agent. “I left my sidearm in the car. Your guards should have done a better job of checking him for weapons. Good thing it was just a flash grenade, it could have been a lot worse.”

With the job completed and payment received, the bounty hunter got back into the hovercar. As the vehicle sped back over the bridge, the guards continued watching the bubbling waters down below, mouths wide open, wondering how they’d dropped the ball so badly.

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Now Available! Bloodhunters v3: New Blood

The trilogy is now complete. (Unless I write a fourth one.) I'm excited to announce that my third book is now available! Get Bloodhunters v3: New Blood at the following retailers:

Kindle

Other Retailers

Six years after the original team disbands, Bloodstone’s protégé leads a new team of bounty hunters. But when a series of assassinations shocks the galaxy, both generations of hunters must work together to bring the killer to justice. The action-packed conclusion to the Bloodhunters trilogy!

Preview: Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood

 Here are the first two chapters of Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood.

ED.02499.12.31

Trasa was called the City of A Trillion Lights, but A’Tral currently fled through the darkest part. Pushing through crowds of diverse beings, he scanned for any source of refuge. He suddenly turned and dashed across the street, causing a beat-up hovercar to swerve into the wrong lane. The purple-skinned driver yelled out some very colorful insults, but A’Tral kept running. He vaulted over a floating garbage truck, barely straining his cybernetically-enhanced legs, and barreled into an alley between two restaurants. It was dark here, and his eye implants took a few seconds to adjust. He knew darkness alone couldn’t hide him, as his pursuer was no doubt similarly equipped with expensive enhancements. He spotted a sewer grate at the far end of the alley and ran over to it. He set the grate aside and started to climb in. Then he paused for a moment, legs dangling in the shaft.

It was a gamble no matter what he did. What would the hunter be expecting? Was it safer to blend into the crowd, or hide in the tunnels below? His pursuer was a master at predicting the behavior of his prey, and A’Tral didn’t want to go back to prison. Especially not now that he was so close to freedom. He patted his left thigh, where the stolen gem rested securely in a secret compartment. All he had to do was make it across town, then he could meet his buyer and leave this planet for good. 

He heard the whine of a drone echoing through the alley. He turned his head, his visual software zooming in on it. The small disc hovered at the alley entrance, most likely scanning for movement. It was no bigger than one of A’Tral’s pocket grenades, and colored in the hunter’s signature shade of red. There was no more time for debate. He dropped into the sewer, ignoring the ladder and letting his cyberlegs absorb the impact of the lengthy fall. He was reasonably sure the drone hadn’t detected him, but he wasn’t going to hang around to find out. There was very little light in the tunnel, and once again he was thankful for his ocular upgrades. He picked a direction and ran, hoping to find a junction where he could orient himself.

He didn’t get far. He spotted the device on the wall a split second after it was too late to avoid it. A red metal tube – the same shade as the drone had been – flipped out from the wall, firing a cylindrical projectile at A’Tral. It separated into four smaller discs as it soared through the air, and a thin net unfurled between them. Before A’Tral had time to react, the net pinned him to the wall, each disc magnetizing itself to the metal girders lining the sewer wall. He struggled to reach one of his many pockets. The netting was incredibly strong for something that thin, but it was elastic enough to keep from cutting him. He couldn’t move much, but fortunately he had stowed a tiny AON blade in one of his cuffs. With a bit of effort he managed to retrieve it.

He pressed a button on the handle and the finger-length metal blade burst forth. The blade quickly heated up, glowing a bright orange. “I wouldn’t do that,” he heard a voice say. A’Tral stopped for a second, his eyes darting back and forth. His attention finally fell on the wall-mounted micro-cannon that had fired the net at him. There was a blinking red light on it, and most likely a camera as well. He also noticed something strange.

It’s not the kind of detail most people would pick up on, but being a cybernetics enthusiast, A’Tral had an eye for new hardware. And the micro-cannon... well, it wasn’t clean. It was covered in the same level of grime as the rest of the sewer walls, which meant the cannon had been here for a while. How long, he couldn’t say, but probably longer than he’d been on the run. Why had it been installed here, if not for A’Tral?

Whatever, he thought. He could ponder the bounty hunter’s methods some other day. For now, he had to get loose before the hunter showed up in person. He moved the blade to one of the thin strands of netting. As soon as the blade touched the strand, A’Tral cried out in pain as the net sent electric shocks through his body. The AON blade fell from his hands and clattered away. Then he heard footsteps echoing from down the tunnel.

“I did warn you,” a voice said. It was deep and sounded electronically amplified. A humanoid shape approached, casually strolling toward the criminal. A’Tral easily recognized the famous bounty hunter. Every criminal feared that black-and-red armored jumpsuit. A drone zoomed into view, and docked onto one of the hunter’s wrists. Then the hunter stepped closer, fiddling with a wrist-mounted control panel. “I’m going to release the net now,” he said. “If you try to run, you’ll regret it.” The net fell off the wall, and A’Tral collapsed to the floor. The hunter pulled out a pair of wrist restraints. “Hold out your hands,” he said.

A’Tral didn’t like his chances, but his fear of returning to prison was greater than his fear of a single bounty hunter. From his crouched position, he jumped forward with the maximum power his cyberlegs would allow. His head caught the hunter in the stomach, where the hunter’s armor was more of a flexible mesh, as opposed to the heavy red plates covering his chest. The impact hurt A’Tral’s head - a lot - but he felt great satisfaction at hearing the supposedly untouchable bounty hunter say “Oof.” Then he sprang past the hunter, sparing a second to drop a pocket grenade behind him. As he turned the next corner, he stumbled and skidded to a stop. His attention now focused on a shiny red cannon sitting on a tripod, tracking his every move. Still a bit dizzy from the head impact, he stepped backwards a few paces. 

Would it fire if he ran? Would it fire if he stayed still? What if he slowly inched back around the corner? And... shouldn’t he have heard an explosion by now? He had now backed up enough to turn towards the previous tunnel. 

“Not. Wise.” The bounty hunter stood just a few meters away, holding the now-deactivated pocket grenade. His body language was like that of a disappointed teacher, and though the hunter’s blood-red visor was opaque, A’Tral imagined a stern expression on his face. A’Tral pulled out another AON blade, brandishing it menacingly, but the hunter just shook his head, unimpressed. A’Tral realized he wasn’t going to win this, and made a snap decision. Better death than prison. 

He moved to thrust the blade into his own throat, but the bounty hunter was quicker. He tapped an icon on his wrist pad, and the tripod-mounted cannon fired. A white ball of electricity hit A’Tral in the side, knocking him to the ground, once again causing him to drop his knife. 

Straining to stay conscious, A’Tral watched the bounty hunter step closer. “At least,” A’Tral said with exhausted resignation, “tell me how you knew where to set up the cannons.”

“Trade secret,” the hunter replied, in that electronically-enhanced voice. A’Tral flinched as the infamous bounty hunter reached toward him. But then something curious happened. A light flashed on the hunter’s gauntlet, and he stopped to stare at the readout. He pressed a couple of keys on his wrist computer, his attention completely focused on the tiny screen.

Still concentrating on the screen, he absently reached for A’Tral’s left thigh, retrieving the stolen gem. “It’s your lucky day,” the hunter said, pocketing the gem. “I have bigger fish to fry. Now get lost.”

ED.02499.12.31

InterGalactic Police Sergeant Daniel Malis had a knack for finding himself in crisis situations. When terrorists had taken hostages at the Galactic Nations Embassy six months ago, it had been during his shift. Two months before that he had been on vacation on a luxury starship when it was hijacked. And, even though he lived hundreds of kilometers away, he just happened to be in Los Angeles when the big one hit. The infamous “Malice Luck” was legendary at the IGP training camps. Most officers would chalk it up to coincidence, but that didn’t stop them from avoiding the sergeant whenever they could. 

As a large, intimidating, bear of a man, Malis would have had trouble making friends even without his bad luck. Not that he considered his luck bad. He actually felt very fortunate for these chance events. He always managed to turn these tragedies into opportunities for heroism. Once, he was making a deposit at the bank when it was held up by two robbers. In less than five minutes he had them tied up and on their way to prison. It was opportunities like this that had earned him his rank as a sergeant. 

Today was different. Today he was not on top of the situation. Today he was thousands of kilometers away from the danger zone, and he had never felt more vulnerable. 

He viewed the transmission again. First it showed the outside of IGP EarthStation 1. Orbiting the Earth at a slightly greater distance than the moon, it was nearly as large as a moon itself. As this solar system’s primary police headquarters, it was home to over fourteen thousand IGP officers. With its powerful shields and formidable weapons systems, as well as its sheer size, it was completely invulnerable to attack. But then, the designers had never expected an attack of this nature. 

The scene suddenly changed to show the face of a woman. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with short black hair, pale skin, and crystal blue eyes. She announced without emotion, “This is Alterra Sarr. Your station is under my control. Unless you submit to my demands, this station will be destroyed, along with everyone in it. You have two hours to decide.” The transmission ended there. The computers had downloaded a list of demands which included large sums of money as well as the release of several prisoners. 

“Can she do it, Esh?” asked Malis. The “Esh” in question was Doctor G’Heesh Eshton, a tall, gray-skinned humanoid with large, black eyes. The doctor was every bit as anxious as Malis, though possibly a bit less bothered about being “stuck” on Earth during the crisis. 

“I have connected to the station’s computers,” Eshton said in his stilted accent. “I am locked out as far as actually being able to take any kind of control, but I managed to sneak a peek at what she’s been doing. Somehow she has reprogrammed the propulsion systems to backwash into the ventilation systems. In addition, the gasses used in the power core would be released. Apparently she knows which gas combinations will cause a massive explosion.” 

“And there’s no way we can get in?” 

For a second Eshton looked offended. “I helped design the station myself, sergeant. If there were any way past the weapons systems, I would know it. She has somehow even locked out our own security override codes.” 

“How did she do this? Where did she get these authorization codes? I thought our system was unbreakable. Alterra Sarr is just a patrol officer. She shouldn’t have had access to any of these systems!” Malis was beginning to lose his temper. 

“I do not know how she could have done it. She must have been setting this up for a long time. She could have had help from one of the station’s engineers...” Eshton broke off, frowning. “...but, to accomplish all of this, she would have to have known passcodes that only a select few of us possessed, possibly even codes that only I know.” 

“We’ll worry about security problems later. Right now we need to stop her. Have you read her file? Maybe we can talk her out of this.” 

“I have read her file, sergeant, but this takeover does not match her profile. She has always been an exemplary officer. She was even in line for a promotion. In fact, some of the prisoners she wants freed are ones that she captured herself. It does not make sense.” 

The video screen flickered on again. This time it was a split screen. On the left was Alterra Sarr, broadcast from the IGP station. On the right was the face of IGP Captain Trent Dellwood, broadcast from the IGP Earth Headquarters in Greenland. 

“We can’t submit to your demands, Alterra, you know this. We don’t give in to terrorists. There is no way you can get away with this. If you destroy the station your life won’t be worth spit anywhere in the galaxy. Start releasing the officers and maybe we can talk. If you give up now I’ll look into reducing your sentence.” Captain Dellwood had conducted terrorist negotiations before, but never one of this magnitude. He was visibly nervous. 

Alterra Sarr still showed no emotion. “It was worth a try,” she said, and that was all. Her transmission ended, and the left side of the screen now showed the outside of the station. Dellwood, still on the right half of the screen, had a look of confusion on his face. Then, at the stroke of midnight, the station exploded. 

It was a spectacular sight as the station’s exterior panels suddenly blew outward, one after another, while the burning gas and the vacuum of space caused some areas of the station to explode while others imploded. Huge metal segments blew out in every direction, while other parts of the station caved in. Bright flames flared out from the center for a few seconds and then vanished as the station’s atmosphere dissipated into space. In less than fifteen seconds the entire station became a cloud of debris. 

Sergeant Malis just stared, unable to speak. 

Several solar systems away, in a squalid bar on Chirminon, the entire crowd became silent as the news came on. This was significant for two reasons. It was not the type of crowd that watched the news, and it was not the type of crowd that became silent. All eyes turned toward the large video screen as the reporter spoke. 

“Tonight’s top story: Over fourteen thousand InterGalactic Police officers were killed today when a terrorist destroyed the Earth IGP space station. The terrorist has been identified as former IGP officer Alterra Sarr. Officer Sarr, shown here, reportedly took control of the computer systems and used pirated codes to create a systems malfunction which destroyed the station. She is still at large.

“Due to the sudden extreme shortage of IGP officers, the United Galaxy Organization is encouraging all bounty hunters to participate in the search for this dangerous woman. A collection is being crowdfunded, and the governments of several planets have contributed large sums towards the reward for her capture. So far the total is up to seven million credits. Money is still rolling in, but one thing is clear. Whoever brings in Alterra Sarr is going to be very wealthy. 

“If you have any information, or would like to make a contribution, please report to your nearest IGP terminal. For more information on this case, and complete files on Alterra Sarr, download file SarrAlt382 from our site.” 

Then it cut to commercial. At once the bar was no longer quiet. Boasts of “I’ll be rich!” and “She’s mine!” were heard as a room full of cutthroats all ran toward the computer terminals. There was one who did not run, however. This single figure stood in the back of the room, not speaking a word. Watching the crowd through a blood-red domed helmet, the figure contemplated this turn of events. When the bounty hunter finally spoke, it was just one word. 

“Fools.” 

The few who heard him knew that he was correct. No one stood a better chance of finding her than Bloodstone.

Like what you read? Check out the full book here!

Trailer for Book 1

This is just a mockup trailer for Bloodhunters V1: Bad Blood. I'm still working on it, but the end result shouldn't be too different. Like what you see? You can purchase the book here.

Bloodhunters v2: Blue Blood - Now Available at More Retailers!

 

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Short Story: Blood Guardian (Blood Samples 6)

 

This short story takes place before Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood. If you enjoy it, please consider purchasing my other books here.

ED02499.08.31

IGP Officer Zhari Ze-Rastt was sick of EarthStation 1. For every four hours she spent on the streets, she spent another four filing paperwork at the station. It was also where she slept, ran her training exercises, and ate most of her meals. And while the station was beautiful, a true testament to the power of engineering, she wished she could spend more time in the sun, breathing non-manufactured oxygen. She was getting married in a few months, and was greatly anticipating her honeymoon. She wasn’t sure where they were going yet, as it was supposed to be a surprise. The important thing was, she’d be spending a couple of weeks planetside.

But which planet? Earth was nice, but she was hoping she’d get to visit her homeworld of Galea. She hadn’t been there in years, and she looked forward to showing Vik her favorite landmarks. She’d been dropping hints for a while; had Vik picked up on them? She wasn’t sure. He was keeping it close to the vest, but she could tell he had something big planned. Even if it wasn’t Galea, it was going to be a spectacular trip.

She glanced at the picture of Vik on her desk. They couldn’t be more different. He was human, square-jawed and duty-driven. Zhari, meanwhile, had cat-like facial features and a more relaxed attitude. Not that she didn’t take her job seriously, but it seemed like Vik stayed in officer mode even when he was off the clock. Nevertheless, she loved him. She wanted to talk to him, right now. She didn’t have anything to say, really, she just had to hear his voice. She grabbed her comm, and her thumb was hovering over the call button when a message flashed.

Duty assignment. But not just any work detail. This one would keep her off the station for a couple of days, at least. She grabbed her things and headed for the landing bay, practically skipping with glee.

“You’ve all read the briefing,” Officer Tannish lectured. “And you know why they picked us for this assignment. Each of us has dealt with this fugitive before, and our unique insights give us the edge in recapturing him. Time is of the essence here. We believe he’s headed to Cytrine Delta to get black-market facial reconstruction. If he succeeds, we might never get our hands on him again. It is vitally important we get to him before he goes under the knife.”

Zhari looked around the cockpit. In addition to Zhari and Tannish, there were two other officers on board. Officer Blake had close-cropped red hair, and always looked like she was bored. She’d been the one to process the crime scene after the murder. Agent Renn was bald, with olive-brown skin. He was a profiler, and he’d interviewed Hezler in prison. Zhari was the only non-human. She’d been the one to recapture Hezler after his first escape two months earlier.

“But there’s something else you should know,” Tannish said. “Something that wasn’t in the briefing. Against my recommendation, they’ve posted a bounty on Hezler.” Blake and Renn sighed with disgust. “I know, I know,” Tannish continued. “As if Hezler wasn’t enough, we also have to deal with bounty hunters getting in the way. But with such a tight time limit, they didn’t want to take any chances.”

Zhari understood the reasoning. As long as Hezler was a danger to society, it didn’t matter who brought him in. But she also understood the reactions of her fellow officers. If the bounty hunters got to Hezler first, it would make the IGP look bad. And there was always the chance the bounty would attract carrion hunters – unscrupulous mercenaries who would have no compunctions about killing an officer if it meant they got the reward.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tannish said. “But don’t worry. We know more about Hezler than any bounty hunter, and I’m confident that we can bring him in without incident. We land in two hours, be ready.”

The IGP shuttle sped toward the warp gate that would take it to Cytrine Delta. No one in the galaxy stood a better chance of apprehending Hezler than the ship’s five passengers. The real question was whether Hezler would be caught by one of the four officers, or the stowaway.

The sun was sinking on the horizon when the ship landed in Silicon Bay. Most of Cytrine Delta’s major cities had science-themed names, because the planet was known for its high-tech research centers. The local scientists were annoyed by this sort of pandering, but the tourists ate it up. Unfortunately, there were fewer tourists every year, as more and more cities became slums. The tech-themed names of the world’s cities and streets seemed increasingly incongruous as the years went on.

With an entire planet to pick from, choosing a landing site could have been a major decision. Fortunately, someone matching Hezler’s description had been spotted in Silicon Bay. Their informant swore that they’d only notified the IGP and no one else, so hopefully they’d be in and out before any bounty hunters got wind of Hezler’s presence.

The officers disembarked from their shuttle and headed for the local police headquarters. A few minutes after they left, the shuttle’s door opened again. A shadowy figure slipped out the door and vanished into the dusk.

Reylund Hezler paced in his tiny motel room, wishing time would pass faster. He was supposed to meet his contact in three hours. He couldn’t be early, or his contact wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t kill time in town, or he might be recognized. His best bet was to stay put until time to go.

But this room… it was smaller than his cell had been. He could barely breathe in here. He’d only been here an hour, and he already felt like screaming. Three more hours seemed insurmountable. What was he going to do?

He sat down on the bed. It was old, and the mattress sagged in the middle, but it was much softer than the beds in prison had been. He briefly considered taking a nap, but he didn’t think he’d be able to get any sleep. And if he did, he might sleep through his alarm and miss the rendezvous. He stood up again, and thought about ordering some food.

But he was too nervous to eat. What if the surgery went badly? What if the doctor put him under, then turned him in to the IGP? What if the police found him mid-surgery, leaving the procedure half-finished? Scenario after scenario whirled through his mind, and he began to feel nauseous.

He wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. Hezler was no criminal. He’d taken the rap for his boyfriend, Vinz Kacy. It was a complicated set of circumstances, almost a comedy of errors, that had led to Hezler’s conviction. At least… that’s what he’d thought at the time.

A year earlier, on a Friday morning, Vinz gave Hezler a stuffed platypus as a surprise. Hezler took it to work to show his coworkers, and left it on his desk. But it turned out that inside the platypus was a second surprise, tickets to a play on Saturday night. The office was closed on weekends, but Hezler had keys, and offered to go get the platypus. But Vinz still wanted to keep the title of the play a surprise, and was afraid Hezler would peek, so he offered to go to Hezler’s office instead. It was against the office’s security rules, but Vinz convinced Hezler it would be fine.

While Vinz was in Hezler’s office, he found the body of Hezler’s boss, Virra Spinner. While trying to revive her, Vinz got Virra’s blood all over his clothing. Rather than call the police, Vinz panicked and returned home. When Hezler heard the story, he called the police. But he didn’t want to get in trouble at work, so he told the police that he’d been the one to go to the office, and that Vinz’s bloody clothes were his.

Things spiraled out of control from there. The killer had taken the office’s data drives, including the ones that held security camera footage. Hezler wasn’t fond of his boss, and his coworkers knew it, so there was motive. Even if he’d wanted to tell the police the truth, that Vinz had been the one to find the body, they wouldn’t have believed him at that point. There was simply too much evidence against Hezler.

At first, Hezler was content to bide his time in prison, sure that more evidence would come out, and the real killer would be revealed. After a few months, he realized no one was still looking for the truth. Vinz never came to see him in prison. When Hezler escaped the first time, he tried to pay Vinz a visit. But Vinz had moved on, and was dating someone else. He’d sold off all of Hezler’s possessions, and had somehow made it rich by buying stocks. Vinz had never shown any interest in finance before; how had he gotten so lucky?

Once Hezler was back in prison, he started putting the pieces together. And now he had a theory. It was Vinz who had suggested that he go to the office instead of Hezler. Once there, Vinz found data that gave him insider information on stock tips. But he was discovered by Virra, and he killed her. Finally, he convinced Hezler to take the blame for breaking into the office, assuring him that it looked less suspicious.

And I fell for it, Hezler thought angrily. That was the worst part about it. If he’d known he was being set up, he would have fought harder in court. He would have thrown Vinz under the bus, instead of protecting him with lies. But it was too late to do anything about that. If he were to bring it up now, he’d just be a twice-escaped convict desperate to stay free. No one was going to believe him without hard evidence.

But how was that going to happen? Hezler was having a hard enough keeping the cops off his trail. He didn’t have the time or resources to play detective, too.

He checked the time again. Damn. For all his brooding, only ten more minutes had gone by. He sat down on the bed again, pulled his knees up to his chest, and tried to calm his breathing.

Whisper was practically invisible from her vantage point. Her species had the ability to manipulate shadow, allowing her to blend into the dark recess of the building. She crouched on a ledge on the second floor, in one of the building’s many exterior alcoves. From a bystander’s point of view, the alcove might have looked a bit darker than it should have, but they probably wouldn’t question it.

She was familiar with police procedures. The four IGP officers would be scattered across the city right now, first questioning known informants, then every local surgeon, starting with the ones who specialized in facial reconstruction. But Whisper knew better. Hezler wasn’t dumb enough to hire a surgeon listed online. No, he’d go for someone experienced, but no longer practicing. So while the cops and other bounty hunters were on a wild goose chase, Whisper had an actual lead to follow.

The guy’s name was Ryfush Weglan. He was a Vhelran, with dark orange scales, and a scar across his left cheek. He’d once been an expert in the field of body modification, but he’d abandoned the career after some malpractice suits. But he still had connections, and now made a living illegally procuring painkillers for people who didn’t qualify for a prescription.

He’d also gone to the same high school as Reylund Hezler. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but Whisper’s intuition told her that this was the guy she needed to watch. She’d headed to his place immediately after leaving the IGP shuttle, staked it out until he left, and followed him to this alley. Just a few minutes later, another man showed up. This newcomer wore a hood, but he was about the right build to be Hezler.

The two spoke for a few minutes, and Whisper strained to hear their conversation. Some bounty hunters could afford fancy tech that would have allowed them to hear them from a distance, but Whisper didn’t have that kind of money. But then, she wasn’t in it for the profit, she just wanted to keep violent criminals off the streets.

Whisper considered leaping down from the ledge and grabbing Hezler, but she couldn’t be sure it was him. If she was wrong, and Weglan was planning to meet Hezler at a later time, acting now would blow her whole plan. Weglan would cancel his meeting with Hezler, and Whisper would be back to square one.

After a few minutes, Weglan gestured farther down the alley, and the duo walked away. Whisper followed, keeping her distance, blending back into the shadows whenever one of them started looking around for witnesses. They ended up at a nearly abandoned office building, its doors closed for the night. Weglan unlocked the door and led Hezler inside.

“So, what do you want to look like?” Weglan asked. The office had originally been used by a talent agency, and some of their posters still hung on the wall. The room was poorly lit, illuminated by a single hanging lamp in the center of the room. The partially-open doorway also let in a strip of light from the hall, but it was still unusually dark for a doctor’s office.

“I don’t care,” Hezler answered softly. They were the only ones in the building, but Hezler still kept his voice low. “I’m only doing this so I don’t get caught.”

“Sure, but you’re going to have to live with this face,” Weglan said. “Might as well get one you like.”

“Can’t you just change it back once I prove I’m innocent?” Hezler asked.

Weglan laughed. “You make it sound like I’m going to store your old face in a freezer somewhere. Doesn’t work that way. Look, some time down the road, if you want to look like your old self again, I can recommend a surgeon who might be able to get you there. It’ll be expensive, though, and it won’t be perfect. And that’s only if you actually manage to catch the real killer, which is a big if. My advice is to accept reality, and pick a face you can live with.”

Hezler’s mind reeled. Before, facial reconstruction had seemed like a nebulous idea, something he’d seen fugitives do in the movies. It was just one of those things people do when they’re on the run. But now that he was sitting in Weglan’s eerily dark office, surrounded by medical equipment, the full weight of what he was about to do hit him. He was going to change his face, permanently. He was going to look in the mirror, and see a stranger staring back.

He liked his face. He’d never really thought about it before, but it was a decent face. Not super handsome, but clean, average, the kind of face you might see in commercials. He’d never looked in the mirror and thought, “I wish my nose was narrower” or “I wish I had fuller lips.” There were no celebrities he envied, nobody he wanted to emulate. 

“Do you have a book or something I can look through?” he asked.

Weglan grunted in annoyance and handed Hezler a tablet. It contained thousands of pictures of noses, eyes, chins, and other facial features. As Hezler scrolled through the images, Weglan asked him a few questions, trying to narrow down what face would make him happiest. Weglan knew Hezler wasn’t getting this done out of vanity; he just needed to keep from being recognized, and to fool facial scanners. But they were friends, even if they hadn’t spoken much since high school, and Weglan wanted to do the best job he could.

Whisper watched them from a dark corner near the doorway. She could absorb sound as well as light, so sneaking in when their heads were turned had been easy enough. Fortunately there were plenty of shadows to hide in, the office’s hanging light leaving the edges of the room in darkness.

This was it. Whisper could easily subdue Hezler from here. With her skills, she’d have him tied up in seconds. Even if they fought back, she’d be able to take them without a scratch. She’d handled crowds of armed criminals before, so two average joes would be a cakewalk.

And yet, she still hesitated.

As Hezler thumbed through the tablet, their conversation drifted away from the surgery, and back to Hezler’s conviction, incarceration, and escapes. Weglan explained how he unjustly lost his medical license, due to false claims of incompetence. Whisper listened intently, studying Hezler’s posture. Aurorans were raised to read body language in addition to spoken words, a skill they used to predict their opponents’ moves during hand-to-hand combat.

Hezler was telling the truth. Whisper could tell by his shoulders, his breathing, his eyes, and even his speech patterns. Either he was innocent of his crimes, or at least he believed he was. Weglan, meanwhile, was embellishing his own story. The former surgeon believed some of what he was saying, but he was definitely keeping some significant details to himself. The contrast between the two was undeniable.

Most bounty hunters wouldn’t have cared. Money was money. Whisper was paid to bring them in, and the courts could work out the rest. But that just wasn’t how Whisper saw the universe. If this man was innocent, she wanted to help him, even if it meant giving up a reward. 

But what if she walked away, only for Hezler to get caught by another bounty hunter? There was no way he could stay on the run forever, even with a new face.

Whisper was still debating when there was a loud crash from down the hall.

“This is the police! Come out with your hands above your head!” Zhari didn’t have a warrant, but police procedure was pretty lax on Cytrine Delta. Her team’s leads had been dead ends so far, until an informant gave her a hot tip that led her here.

Having just kicked open the outer door, she now stood in a long hallway, lined with numbered doors that led to long-abandoned offices. She jogged down the hall, gun drawn, looking for any indication of which office to investigate first. She reached a side hallway and peeked around the corner, wary of any potential danger. Halfway down the hall, she saw an open door. As soon as she spotted it, it slammed shut.

“What exactly is your plan, here?” Weglan asked bluntly, as Hezler pushed the operating table in front of the door.

“Shut up and help me,” Hezler said, in a panic. He turned around and grabbed a chair, and started pulling it towards the door as well.

“There are no other exits from this room,” Weglan said. “You don’t have any weapons, and I don’t think you’d use them if you did. You think that cop’s going to go away just because she couldn’t push the door open on her first try? No. She’s going to call for backup, they’re going to bring in the drones, and you’re just going to make things worse for yourself.”

“I can’t go back to prison,” Hezler said, wedging the chair under the operating table.

Weglan sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Hide behind this chair, and let me do the talking.”

There was a pounding on the office door. They heard a muffled voice shout, “Open up, this is the police!”

Hezler dragged the chair back to the far corner, and hid behind it. “One minute,” Weglan shouted, pulling the operating table back from the door.

The officer kicked the door open. She was Galean, with a catlike face. She had light gray fur, and her face was framed by a blue mane. She wore a navy blue IGP uniform with lightweight armor plating. She quickly looked around the room, then turned to Weglan. “Where’s Hezler?”

“Behind that chair,” Weglan said, pointing.

“Jerk!” Hezler shouted, emerging from his hiding spot.

“Realist,” Weglan countered.

The officer stepped forward, her right hand pointing the gun a Hezler, her left hand reaching for her bracers. She paused when she saw Hezler’s shocked expression. He wasn’t looking at the cop, but past her.

From the corner closest to the door, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was as if the darkness itself coalesced into a feminine, humanoid shape. Then the shadows dissipated, revealing a woman dressed in black and gray. She wore a tight-fitting jumpsuit, with a black vest and boots. Her helmet featured a mirrored faceplate.

The officer was about to turn around when this shadowy newcomer grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. “Run,” the shadow woman said. Hezler didn’t have to be told twice. He ran past the two women, past Weglan, out the door, and down the hallway. He didn’t stop running until he was back in his motel room.

What is this thing? Zhari wondered, trying to break free of the creature’s grasp. She couldn’t turn to get a good look, but it felt humanoid. Zhari had scanned the room upon entering, as per her training. Where had it been hiding? Zhari couldn’t move her arms enough to aim her pistol, no matter how hard she struggled. Instead, she lifted her right leg and stomped hard on her captor’s boot. The woman gasped, momentarily loosening her grip, enough for Zhari to break free.

Zhari turned, but only got a glimpse of her attacker before the lights went out. The dark woman had thrown something into the air, smashing the room’s only light. While the light from the hallway still illuminated the room enough to see Weglan and the furniture, the dark woman seemed to completely vanish in the dimness. 

The officer raised her weapon, only for it be kicked out of her grasp. Then Zhari lunged forward at where she’d last seen the woman. Grabbing her foe around the waist, Zhari wrestled her to the ground. She still couldn’t see the woman, which was confusing. Galeans had excellent night vision, but all Zhari could see was blackness where she felt her opponent to be.

Weglan carefully stepped backward, away from the women, and out the door. He pulled the door shut as he left, leaving the two in total darkness.

“Whoever you are,” Zhari grunted, trying to get a better grip on her invisible opponent, “You’re under arrest for aiding and abetting a known fugitive…”

The dark woman didn’t answer, she just kept trying to hold Zhari still. Although Zhari couldn’t see her opponent, she could tell that it was a woman, probably human, stronger than average, with formal martial arts training. The woman seemed to sense every move Zhari planned to make before she made it. But as they wrestled and fought, another realization dawned on Zhari – this woman wasn’t trying to hurt her, only delay her. She had passed up several opportunities to deliver crippling blows, going for grabs and holds instead.

Zhari wrestled herself free again, and slowly stood up. Instead of attacking, this time she backed up until she felt the wall at her back. “You’re protecting a murderer, you know,” Zhari said, breathing heavily.

There was no response, but Zhari thought she heard a drawer open.

“He’ll kill again,” Zhari said. Her firearm was lost in the darkness, but she had a few other tools at her disposal. But what did she have that would affect this woman? She’d felt a helmet while they’d grappled, so that ruled out mace. She had gas grenades, but the woman’s helmet might have its own oxygen reserves. She had a stun baton, but her opponent might be wearing a shock-resistant flightsuit.

Finally she reached for her AON knife. She didn’t want to use lethal force, but it was the only weapon guaranteed to breach her attacker’s defenses. Plus it gave off light, which was what Zhari needed most right now. She held up the weapon and clicked the switch on the hilt. The blade immediately started to warm up, giving off a blue glow.

Zhari jumped, seeing her own blue-tinted face reflected in the woman’s visor. The shadowy woman was leaning towards her, mere centimeters away. Before Zhari could even register what the woman was doing, she felt a prick in her shoulder. She thrust her knife forward, but the woman jumped back and disappeared into the shadows once again. Zhari touched her shoulder, already starting to feel dizzy. What had she…

Of course. It was a doctor’s office. It had to be some sort of fast-acting sedative, taken from the drawer. Zhari knew she only had seconds of consciousness left. She sheathed her knife and pulled out her comm unit. “Tannish,” she said. “I need… need… baffllezerrrrm…”

As Zhari fell forward, the dark woman caught her and gently set her on the floor.

Someone spotted Hezler leaving the planet, but after that the trail went cold. The four officers returned to EarthStation 1 and filed their reports. They were given a stern lecture, but ultimately it was determined that they’d done all they could. A few days later, a surprise piece of evidence arrived at the station. It was the stolen data drives from Hezler’s office. An accompanying note apologized for the interference on Cytrine Delta, and claimed that the drive had been found in the possession of Vinz Kacy. While the drive had since been wiped, a data recovery team managed to restore most of the deleted files, including security logs.

It was all there, in full color, high definition, pixel-perfect video. Indisputable evidence that Kacy had entered the office, accessed restricted files, and killed Virra Spinner. Kacy was quickly arrested, and Hezler turned himself in. Hezler was still sentenced to probation for the minor crimes he’d committed while on the run, but he would soon be able to resume a normal life.

In Zhari’s report, she described her attacker as a “woman seemingly made of shadows.” For a couple of weeks, she took a fair amount of ribbing over it. Her fellow officers joked that she’d been attacked by the boogeyman, and one of them even gave her a night light as a gag gift. But then Agent Renn fell into a vat of relish while chasing a suspect, and Zhari’s story was immediately forgotten. “Agent Pickles” became a sensation, the most joked-about officer on the force, for the rest of the year.

Right up until the disaster. After that, nothing seemed funny anymore.