Metamorphosis Alpha 2

by Craig Martelle

  The two muttbloods to her right threw down their hands. The dealer raised a brow, and the chunky pureblood narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decide if she was bluffing.

  “You are lying or I’m a jeget’s dinner!” The pureblood leaned forward, puffing out his chest, as if such gestures could intimidate Bekka. “I’m building three bridges and demand judgment for the trick. Prove you can back up your bet.”

  Bekka rummaged through the hidden pockets of her black cloak. In the third pocket on her left she found what she was looking for. With a bit of melodramatic flair, she slammed a hand onto the table. The metal object tucked into her palm thunked.

  Waiting till all eyes were on her, she pulled away her hand revealing a Domar. The practically mythical coins were so rare, she bet no one in the room had ever seen a real one.

  The dealer stepped away from the table and the two muttblood gamblers followed his example. The pureblood curled a lip. “It can’t be real,” he said.

  “You calling me a skunker?” Bekka practically growled the words, making sure that those sitting at the nearby casino tables could hear. “It’s real. Sow your hand, or water the garden.”

  “I demand judgment!” The pureblood cupped his hands and yelled. The casino went silent.

  Bekka knew upon serious inspection a judge would declare her Domar a fake. So instead of waiting for her doom, she kicked it in its metaphorical crouch. It’s not that she had to get violent, it’s that violence was a way to hedge her bet and ensure how House Felton would respond. Plus, it was fun.

  In a flourish of movement, Bekka threw up her cloak, distracting those watching. With her hands hidden, she drew her sonic dagger and flicked her wrist. A blade of pure white sound came alive.

  With her special sight, Bekka watched the other gamblers move to draw their own hidden weapons, but she was ready. Like a dancer crossing the floor, she made her way around the table, jamming her sonic dagger into each of them. The blade was set to stun and the two muttbloods were on the ground shaking before they knew what had happened.

  The fat pureblood, who she discovered smelled a bit like bacon grease, managed to get his hand to a holster, but that was as far as he got, before Bekka jammed her blade into his neck.

  The sonic dagger didn’t pierce the man’s flesh in the way a metal blade would. It phased into his skin, sending out violent ripples of sound that radiated across his body like ripples on a puddle. She held it there, and didn’t pull away till the purebloods mundane eyes rolled backwards in their sockets.

  As Bekka turned to take out the dealer, she felt a piercing pain in her right shoulder. Extreme warmth, like the touch of a flame, spread across her back and was quickly followed by a cold numbness. She didn’t have to look to know that the casino judge had arrived and had shot her with a fire dart.

  Bekka opened her mouth to stay something snarky, but her jaw went slack. Try as she might to stay standing, she crumbled to the floor.

  Chapter 2: The Voice

  Bekka awoke in an expanse of light. It wasn’t that the walls or ceiling were white, it was that the room had no shape. As far as she could tell there were no walls and even the floor itself seemed to be made of light.

  The theatrics were a smart move. Anyone who lived under the dome would find such a bright light intimidating and most would even find it painful. Bekka simply adjusted her upper and lower pupils, though even with her mutation, the white expanse was so bright that she still had to squint.

  “What ya think?” she called out. “Put me in the box and I’ll crack like a pureblood stepping outside the dome for the first time?”

  Bekka’s muscles were stiff, a side effect of being hit with the stunner. She reached up stretching toward the ceiling and then bent over. The raven black hair from the half of her head that wasn’t shaved flopped down, covering her face. It tickled her nose and she puffed out a breath, blowing it to the side.

  “I’m not one to crack.” Bekka laid down and placed her hands behind her head. “It be easier for the both of us, if ya just get this over with, aye? Otherwise I’m thinking neither of us will be having a good day.”

  The crackling sound of a speaker turning on rippled through the room. “Where did you get the counterfeit Domar?” a voice asked.

  “That’s how this will be?” Bekka asked. “No how-you-dos or names? Seems a bit rude.”

  “This is not a game,” the voice said. “You were caught—”

  “Whatchya gonna do ‘bout it?” Bekka yawned hoping to signal her indifference. “Ain’t illegal to cheat a casino. Worst you can do is ban me. The Peace Enforcers won’t touch me. ”

  “Well…” The sounds of shuffling papers came through the speakers. “That may be. We cannot turn you over to the local syndicate, but the violation happened with House Felton. Until we decide what to do with you, you are a guest of The House.”

  Bekka stifled a smile. This whole thing was a bit too easy. That’s the problem with all the great houses, especially those of purebloods. They didn’t have vision and were stuck in their ways, which made them predictable. “You can’t do that!” She tried to sound enraged or upset, but she was too excited to be fully convincing. “I have my rights!”

  “You are a mutt in care of House Felton,” the voice said. “If you think…”

  The sound of a door creaking came through the speakers.

  “Sir,” the voice said. “What are you doing down here? We—”

  The muffled sound of someone else speaking interrupted the voice. A series of digital beeps crackled through the speakers before they went dead.

  Bekka sat up. This was not part of the plan.

  A door opened in the white expanse. A tall muscled figure stepped through it, and even though Bekka couldn’t see his face, she knew who it was. It was Jad, the only heir of House Felton.

  Time slowed as she took him in. Jad’s hair was scruffy and there was a bit of stubble around his chin and cheeks. Across his broad shoulders he wore a simple cream colored vest with a plain white shirt. The only bit of fancifulness that he wore was his black metal belt. It was woven of fine, nearly indestructible fibers into an intricate pattern. Bekka knew the pattern had a name, but she had no idea what it was actually called. The belt matched his charcoal earring that was marked with his family’s crest. It was a stunning belt and she should know. She had been the one who had given it to him.

  “Hello, Bekka.” Jad’s voice was as rich and soft as she remembered.

  “Jad.” She stood, regaining her composure. Her intel had said that Jad was on the other side of the dome, inspecting holdings of House Felton. This whole ordeal was supposed to have been over with before he returned.

  “What is going on here, Bekka?” Jad scowled. “I’ve not heard from you in over two cycles and you just show up here, like this?”

  “Sir?” A green skinned muttblood stepped through the doorway, behind Jad. Bekka recognized the person’s voice as the one that had been speaking over the intercom. “This is not proper protocol. She could be dangerous.”

  “Not now, Soz,” Jad said. “And for the record she is quite dangerous.”

  Bekka smiled. It was that blunt honesty and genuineness that had both kickstarted and ended their relationship.

  “Then I suggest you leave.” Soz, a bit taller than Bekka, had white, transparent hair, that looked like glass or frozen beams of rain. “If your father knew you were down here—”

  “If my father had his way you would be locked in here with her just for being who you are,” Jad said. “Now cut me some space.”

  “Fine,” Soz said, “but I will be on the other side of the door and will have my stunner drawn.”

  Soz narrowed his eyes at Bekka.

  Bekka blew him a kiss. It was the most inappropriate and unexpected thing Bekka could think to do, and judging by the grimace that slid on to Soz’s face it must have drove him crazy.

  “Be careful, sir,” Soz said.

  Jad waited till Soz was gone, before turnin
g back to Bekka. “Why?”

  “I needed the credits,” Bekka said in a flat tone.

  “No,” Jad said. “I don’t care about the fake Domar. I want to know why you never came to see me again. Why have I not heard from you?”

  Bekka let out a long sigh. This was not the time or place for such a conversation or a conversation she would ever want to have. She ran a hand across his cheek. “You are a sweet boy, and we—”

  “I’m older than you!”

  “In age yes,” Bekka said. “But growing up where you did, versus where I did, age isn’t dependent upon time.”

  “I’ve been outside the dome,” Jad said. “Even before I met you. I know what The Greyness did. I know the horrors it caused.”

  Bekka’s hands curled into fists and her cheeks reddened. The Greyness. It always came back to The Greyness and now, so close to having answers, she wasn’t going to let Jad get in the way. She didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t deserve that, but some things… some things were more important.

  “What we had was nothing.” Bekka put her back to Jad. “I was a mutt, someone to tick-off your pureblood obsessed father. That’s why I ended it. I was just as good as anyone with a gill, or cyclopean eyes, or—”

  “That’s not true!”

  Bekka punched Jad on his beautiful, stubbled jaw. Before Jad hit the floor, Soz appeared and Bekka once more felt fire ripple through her body.

  Chapter 3: Cellmates

  Bekka rolled over and wiped the drool from her chin. It was stringy and she had a parched feeling in her throat. For her own preservation, she maybe should stop getting knocked out.

  Judging by the hardness of the bed she lay in and the dark metal ceiling, she figured she was in a holding cell. Swinging her feet off a top bunk, Bekka looked down to see a woman with orange skin, laying in the bottom. It took a moment of staring, but Bekka decided the woman was in fact a mutt and not just someone with a really bad tan. Lately, re-skinning was becoming a hot trend with purebloods, a way to seem like mutts without actually being ones.

  “Watch it.” The orange woman swatted the back of Bekka’s boots.

  “Give me a microncycle,” Bekka said. “Shaking off a stunning.”

  “I don’t care if you just gave birth and were nursing the last hope of your kind. Get your blazing feet out of my face or I’ll rip off your leg.”

  It had been a long day already and it would get longer, and yet Bekka couldn’t help herself. She grabbed the rim of the bunk and swung down, jamming her knee into the orange woman’s face.

  The crunch of bone drowned out the orange woman’s squeal.

  “Next time boya.” Bekka landed on the floor, and stood, looking down at the wounded woman. “If someone needs a bit, you learn to have some empathy, ya hear?”

  The orange woman used the back of her hand to clear away the blood, the color so bright it was lost on her skin tone. “You don’t know what you just did.”

  The orange woman stood, and Bekka realized just how much of a beast the woman was. Bekka, who was tall, only stood shoulder height to the woman.

  The woman punched Bekka in the gut.

  Bekka curled over. She should have thought this out a bit more, but in her defense the orange woman hadn’t looked so big and she was a bit worked up from seeing Jad.

  The orange woman kicked Bekka in the ribs, hard enough to leave a bruise, but before another blow could come, Bekka rolled out the way, tucking between the cell floor and the bottom bunk.

  “I see what happened,” Bekka said. “Bit of miscommunication. So let’s be back it up a quantum or two, aye?”

  “I will rip off your leg and shove it down your throat!” The woman flailed, trying to pull Bekka out from the bunk, but the woman’s bulky arms were too short. “Then I’ll rip off your other leg and hit you with it until everyone of your teeth has been knocked clear of your skull.”

  “Now I ain’t one to judge,” Bekka said. “But ya seem to be full of anger. Too much anger ain’t too healthy.”

  Bekka slid out the bottom of the bunk, but orange woman was ready. She grabbed Bekka by the back of the neck.

  “The first step of inner peace is understanding that it is alright to fail.” Bekka put on her sweetest smile and head-butted the orange woman on her broken nose.

  The woman grunted, but held her grip. Leaning in, the woman sniffed Bekka’s hair. “Say goodbye to hippo-town.”

  Bekka was’t sure what that meant, but didn’t think there was a scenario in which it meant something good.

  A hissing sound filled the room and the door to the cell opened. In the doorway stood Raxel.

  “Sorry boss, I was…” Raxel tilted her bald head as if assessing the situation. “Do you need assistance or do you have this situation under control?”

  “Do something…” Bekka said.

  “Who are you?” The orange woman looked from Bekka to Raxel. “Why are you so shiny?”

  It was a fair question. Even for a cyborg, Raxel had a habit of keeping her parts perfectly polished.

  “Are you sure?” Raxel touched a datapad on her metallic right arm, punching in a sequence of numbers. “The last time I intervened was with that biker gang from outside the dome and you were very upset.”

  “By the light, Raxel,” Bekka said. “Now is not the time!”

  A tube popped out of Raxel’s forearm and a dart pricked the orange woman’s neck.

  The woman raised an eyebrow as if unimpressed.

  “So be it.” Raxel shot the woman with seven more darts.

  The woman belched twice and fell to the floor.

  “A bit of an overkill?” Bekka stepped over the orange woman.

  “Calculated risk,” Raxel said. “With her approximated weight and size I used what I felt necessary.”

  “You got my back-up dagger?” Bekka asked.

  A cavity along Raxel’s left side slid open and a sonic dagger identical to the one Bekka had used in the casino was there. Bekka took it and strapped it to her belt. “You have any trouble?”

  “You’ll see.” Raxel pointed to the cell’s door.

  In the hallway, bound and gagged, lay Jad squirming like a worm.

  “Really?” Bekka asked.

  “He recognized me in the loading bay,” Raxel said. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Leave him,” Bekka said.

  “We should bring him.”

  “No.”

  “Security must already know I have him,” Raxel said. “If we take him, we’ll have collateral. They won’t flood any of the lower floors with poison and such.”

  Bekka cursed. The day kept getting better and better.

  Chapter 4: Swarmed

  The detainment units for House Felton were five floors below their casino, which was already six floors below the ground level of the city. The eleven floors were filled with high tech security. There was no way they could make it back to the city streets, but that was ok with Bekka, because they didn’t intend to go up.

  Bekka peered down the ladder. The shaft so dark that she couldn’t see past a single story. “You sure?”

  “Positive,” Raxel said. “We can take it down three floors to the waterworks, but any further and there will be no way to connect to the vaults.”

  “You first,” Bekka said. “If you drop him because he wiggles I don’t want him knocking me off the ladder.”

  Jad’s eyes went wide. He spoke, but the gag muffled the sound.

  Raxel made a whirring sound as if agitated. “I will have you know that I have never—”

  “How about that time,” Bekka paused trying to pick which time, “we were being chased by that sled-gang?”

  “I had to drop you to fight that hawkoid flock!”

  “You still dropped me.”

  “True.” Raxel scooped up Jad and slung him over her shoulder. He kicked and she retaliated by patting him on the back as if he were a baby. “Keep that up and I will drop you on purpose.”

  Jad went limp and
Raxel slid down the ladder.

  Bekka turned back to the hall behind them. They had a bit of time but a mutt doesn’t get into a position like the one Soz holds by being stupid. It wouldn’t be long before they were being chased again.

  Climbing through the hatch, Bekka sealed it. The moment she did her ears popped and darkness swallowed her. It reminded her too much of The Greyness.

  They descended in the darkness. After what felt like far too long, a dull clanking sound echoed through the shaft and light streamed forth as Raxel opened a lower hatch. Bekka made her way down to it and climbed through, stepping onto a catwalk.

  “Where is your tracker?” Bekka poked Jad. “I know you have one.”

  Jad grunted through his gag.

  “Basic protocol to prevent ransoms,” Bekka said. “Either fork it over or I’ll find it.”

  Bekka ran her hand down Jad’s neck to his shoulder blades. He responded with a deep growl that was followed by more mumbled words. She plucked the gag from his mouth so it hung around his neck like an old timey kerchief from a space western. “What?”

  “Left shoe,” Jad said. “Also my earring.”

  “This should buy us a bit of time.” Bekka took both of Jad’s shoes and his earring. She tossed them into the shaft. They fell out of sight. “You can put him down now.”

  Free, Jad rubbed at his wrist, peering around the room. “Where are we?”

  “Waterworks,” Raxel said.

  They stood on a catwalk that was but one of a series of catwalks. The whole space was a vertical maze of pipes, pumps, and dozens of valves delivering both water and steam throughout all of House Felton.

  “This is a bad idea,” Jad said. “I mean I don’t even know what you two are doing, but I know for a fact that it’s bad.”

  “Can I re-gag him?” Raxel asked. “His voice is pleasant, but I do not like the things he uses his voice to say.”