by PJ Schnyder
Women screamed. A few men did too. Aliens fell backward, dropped to fours or sixes and scuttled out of reach.
She leaped to a higher row of seating and shifted in mid-air. The pain of it almost blinded her. Half human, half cat, she let out a blood-curdling scream of her own and swiped at a fat merchant. Gold chains fell to the ground as the portly male squealed and shambled away.
A guard finally made his way to her and she shifted back to full human. Rygard’s shirt was in shreds, though the bindings over her breasts held for the time being. Good. As he approached, she dove into a handspring and caught him around the neck with her legs. Her momentum swung him around and snapped his neck.
She’d shifted fully back to panther again by the time she landed on the ground. A bounding leap and she landed on another guard’s back. The reptilian flailed as she bit deep into the back of its skull and crushed its spine. Different enemy, different set of natural weapons to take him out. She had plenty of targets with which to play, experiment.
If she took any hits, they didn’t slow her so she didn’t take notice. None of the beings she met directly scored a hit on her. Laser fire burned past her ear at one point. The scent of scorched fur burned her nose. A moment later, she rinsed it in blood as she buried her fangs deep in the side of a reptile guard’s neck.
Shift after shift, from panther to human and combinations in between, she moved up the tiers of seating. Every change gave her the advantage of shock and surprise against her opponents. Merchants, traders and gamblers struggled to get away from her rampage. Guards came for her, fighting against the tide of those fleeing.
Blood, fear and anger saturated the air around her. Her predator instinct to chase, run down her prey, overridden by the continual attacks. The guards were her real enemies. They had to be eliminated to make way for her teammates. It was important to get high up into the stands. Then pick a spot and hold her ground until the rest arrived.
“That’s good, Kat. You’re there.”
The comm still worked despite the repeated changes to her form and she let out a panther scream before slashing another opponent with claws.
“They’re almost all up on the wall.”
Slow humans.
An animal sounded a challenge. The call was like a trumpet, but the thing charging at her had six legs and a horn on its nose. Beady eyes targeted her from a triangular head, armored and made like a battering ram. The beast looked like a Terran rhino. She shifted to panther form, but didn’t leap out of its path. Instead, she crouched low between the stadium seats.
A rider sat astride but carried no major weapons, only a club. He wasn’t the immediate worry.
Stumbling over chairs, the animal swung its head side to side, battering seats and sending them flying in all directions. As it reached her, she darted up, closed her jaws around its muzzle and wrapped her forearms around its head. With all her strength, she yanked downward.
The sudden addition of her body weight was too much with its forward momentum. The thing flipped over her, landing hard on its back with a loud crack. It cried out, the sound of a stricken animal, and only the front pair of legs pawed at the air.
A wiry form landed on her before she released the crippled mount.
The rider.
The club rose and fell. He landed half a dozen hits across the back of her head and shoulders before she got her feet under her. Little bugger was quick. Good thing he wasn’t strong. Lying still, she feigned unconsciousness. Her attacker paused. Warm fluid seeped through her fur and the acrid scent of urine stung her nose.
Bastard was pissing on her.
Too early for a victory celebration like that, but she’d better make her move before he decided to defecate too.
She rolled on her back and shifted as she did. Her legs lengthened as her clawed feet caught the skinny rider in the abdomen. She completed her move and stood as a human again. His intestines spilled out before his face could register surprise. Her right hook knocked him over and he stayed down. It might not have been necessary, but hell, it felt good.
“Tell me he didn’t do what I think he did.”
Good thing she couldn’t answer her captain right then.
Explosions rocked the stadium. She dropped down behind a few seats as the ceiling finally gave way. A shuttle hovered above the new entrance to the Colosseum. Their shuttle. Dozens of tiny projectiles launched from the shuttle’s missile bays and landed on the sands below with sharp pops, followed by an ominous hiss.
“Funny how timing seems to be all sorts of fubar.”
Yeah, Dev didn’t sound overly distressed though. Good thing they were ahead of schedule too. Her chest burned as she sucked in air. Thick clouds of gas were issuing from the cans, but they weren’t the correct color for standard crowd control. The screams of the remaining slaves weren’t right, they weren’t falling unconscious. They were sounds of agony and dying. The lieutenant must have ordered more permanent measures. Not right. Their own men could’ve been caught in the gas.
“You smell.” Bharguest’s gravelly voice didn’t set her hair standing on end this time. Maybe she had too much adrenaline coursing through her.
“Let’s not talk about what I smell like.” She curled her lip, bared her teeth at him.
He chuckled. “Every fight has its sacrifices.”
Slaves were clearing the wall now, along with their own teams. They were trying to escape the deadly gas hanging low over the sand.
Bharguest stood with her, back to back. He swung his sledgehammer in an almost casual arc, catching another attacker and sending him tumbling back down the stands.
“Don’t slow our boys down.” She watched Rygard’s men struggle to reach their vantage point. Some of them were still able-bodied. All of them were in humanoid form. Well, mostly if you didn’t count fur. A few gripped the walls with claws, bared elongated teeth at nearby slaves. Others she watched with a predator’s gaze and found them more prey than threat. It wasn’t just about the injuries and blood stained rags. It was about the hopeless, glazed look in their eyes and the grim set of their mouths. They were resigned to die here.
She could help them, the slaves. And not in the way she’d originally come here to. Death was a kind of mercy.
“Are they your boys yet?” Bharguest swung the sledgehammer up above them both and brought it down on a row of seats. A pack of slaves still chained together changed their direction and headed up and away from them.
A lot to say there for sheer intimidation factor.
“They’re Rygard’s.” She watched as Rygard helped his last man over the wall and up the stands. Tracer struggled only a few steps ahead of him, Max at his side. The handler moved like a dead man walking with blood trickling at the corner of his mouth and down his jaw.
The shuttle descended through the gaping hole in the roof, turning in a slow rotation as if hesitating.
“The team is scrambling to start the extraction.” Dev’s words were clipped, short. “I’m leaving my position in two minutes.”
Another moment of self-inflicted agony burned through her as she shifted to full panther form and bounded down the tiers. Bharguest could hold their ground for a moment. The men needed her help covering their retreat.
The Colosseum might be in chaos, but it wasn’t much different from the madness of the cages. The danger came in waves, the combatants moving in predictable flows. She watched the patterns, intercepted when Rygard’s soldiers were threatened.
Too many responded in fear and anger. They struck out at anything within reach, including her. No matter. None of the blows landed and her claws found targets in their foes. Flesh and blood tore under her fangs. Bones snapped.
“Annah kai al!”
The words had no meaning for her.
“She has the blood rage.”
Those d
idn’t make any sense either.
One of the bigger warriors, an armed gladiator, tossed a net over her. Lightning seared through her hands and arms as she shifted, grabbed the net and turned with it before it landed. A twist of her wrist kept the thing spinning and she sent it out low, entangling two Sketz’es guards. Movement flashed at the periphery of her vision and she launched skyward. Her leap took her in an arc and she landed hard on the gladiator’s shoulders, rotating as the force of her landing took them both to the ground. His neck broke with a satisfying snap as they hit plascrete and she rolled clear.
And there it was, an ebb in the flow of battle.
“Maa ta tomo. Friend.”
Not a word for the killing field.
The speaker repeated the words, hands held before him. Unsafe for him to do so. Risky. But there he stood with another figure crouched at his side watching the madness around them. She knew the pair. They’d made it off the sands.
“Come, little one. Your friends are gathered above us. Let go the blood rage.”
“Kaitlyn!” Rygard’s voice.
“Kat, let’s go!” Her captain.
She straightened from her crouch but didn’t let go of her current shape. She wanted hands with claws, required the greatest flexibility from both her aspects. Debris fell from the ceiling and random laser fire still shot across the amphitheater from the private boxes. Had to be trainers and slave owners. Guards had better aim. They needed to make themselves scarce before people with real weapons training arrived.
The big felid had already begun climbing the stands, his companion at his heels. She followed suit, leaving room between her and them. Clustered groups caught more attention. The only others left on the stands were straggling slaves and injured bystanders. The rest had fled or were dead.
The shuttle couldn’t land on the risers, but Dev had anticipated the issue. A gondola lowered by crane from the side door. Most of the survivors of Rygard’s team had already been lifted.
She’d been lost in the fighting too long.
As they arrived, Rygard gave the felids a long look. For a moment, everything stopped.
Dev had a rifle lifted to his shoulder, his head bent to the sight scope. “Whatever it is, we don’t have time for it.”
He fired once. A man far up in the boxes screamed and fell from the broken viewing window.
“Without them, I’d still be down there. You’d have had to leave me.” She motioned for the two felids to board the gondola. Bharguest, Tracer and Max were holding a perimeter.
“Better than ‘they followed me home, can I keep them?’ I guess. Get ’em aboard.” Dev understood. He always did.
She turned to Rygard. “Go with them. You’re the only one who knows everybody. You’re going to be needed up on the shuttle.”
No arguments, not in combat. Rygard handed her a gun and got on board. She shifted the rest of the way back to human, gingerly holding the weapon.
“You did learn how to shoot one, didn’t you?”
Well... “I know where the safety is.”
“Shit!”
The gondola rose and almost reached the shuttle door when the air around them exploded.
Kaitlyn crouched low, covering her head. Her tunic hung by a few threads and the binding around her breasts wouldn’t hold much longer. If she had to engage in hand to hand combat again, she’d shift to panther form. Fighting nude in human form was doable, but not preferred. In some ways, it was damned easier to be a cat. A moment later she peered up at the shuttle, watched the gondola sway wildly. Hands reached out to catch the top, haul the passengers in to safety.
“Complication, Captain.” Dev didn’t look up at her words, crouched low beside her, head still bent to the scope. Another man fell from a nearby balcony.
“Damned idiot was lobbing concussion grenades. Going to bring the whole place down around our heads.”
For her part, she got off two shots in the general direction of the oncoming guards. They ducked and took refuge behind some upturned chairs.
“Shuttle might’ve already done that.” She watched as the men above wrestled with gondola and crane. “Crane’s busted. They’re going to be throwing down tow lines in a minute.”
True to prediction, Specs peered over the edge and shouted something. Too much noise all around to understand but she figured she already knew what was coming.
Specs tossed a black bundle out.
“Retrieve. I’ve got you covered.” Dev sighted and fired, paused and did it again.
She darted out into the open and grabbed the package. A quick slash with her claws and she had the bundle loose, pulling apart the harnesses. One was tagged with a bright orange patch, its configuration obviously not for a man.
“Max!” She called for the dog first because it’d take the longest to get the thing on him. When the big dog ignored her, she left a normal harness next to Dev and tossed another over to Bharguest. “Tracer, get Max’s harness on him.”
The first tow line dropped. Bharguest didn’t bother with the harness. Instead, he looped the line over the toe of his boot and took a grip with one hand. As they raised him upward, he shot in all directions.
Who’d been crazy enough to give him a firearm?
She fired off another series of shots in the direction Bharguest had been covering. Considering how bad she was, the same question could be asked of her.
“You’re up next, Kat.” Dev shrugged into his harness.
She slipped into her own. Tracer and Max were backing their way toward where she and Dev crouched. Their perimeter of safety was already crumbling.
Slaves and guards alike converged on their position. The shuttle was like a beacon. For some of them, a wild chance of safety. For others, a really big target.
The tow line came down and fell across her shoulders. Stars exploded across her sight with the impact of the heavy rope. A growl sounded and a shout. Dev cursed.
She blinked furiously to clear her vision and fumbled to get the hook fastened on her harness. Suddenly Tracer was there, batting her hands away. He not only got her hook set in the steel loop, but he hooked a second to it as well.
Squinting, she got a good look at his face. Blood ran down one side and what skin showed through was a ghastly gray under a thin film of grit and sand. More blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and a wet wheezing accompanied each breath he took.
Shit.
“Take Max. Take care of him for me.” The plea in his voice made her heart stop.
No. Skuld...
“He won’t...” The protest died, but she was certain the dog wouldn’t come with her.
Tracer coughed, spit more globs of blood. “Go, buddy. Go with Kaitlyn.”
Oh no...
Max lunged against the harness, almost yanked her off her feet. The tow line tightened and lifted them both. Not knowing what else to do, the big dog hanging heavy from the hook at her waist, she got a grip on the back of his harness to try to steady him as they rose.
Tracer stood for a moment, watching them both.
“Stay with her, Max. Stay with her.”
A pack of Sketz’es charged their position down below. She tried to shoot into the group of them. At least one fell with a scream. She couldn’t keep firing though, not as they got closer to Dev and Tracer. She cursed and stopped. Her shots were going too wild, would do more harm than good.
Max barked again, struggled. She flipped the safety back on the gun and held on to his harness as best she could with both hands. Another tow line went sailing down past her.
Tracer shouted something, a challenge. He rushed out of cover and into the oncoming group of Sketz’es. Her heart seized. Max uttered a tortured sound, part howl, part desperate bark.
“No!”
Dev fired another sh
ot and another. Then he hooked the tow line to his harness and raised his rifle to his shoulder again. Hands grabbed Kaitlyn, hauled her and Max inside the shuttle and shoved them to the side. Specs tossed her line back out the side of the shuttle.
“Keep that thing under control!” She didn’t know who issued the command, didn’t know if he referred to her or to Max, but she wrapped her arms around the German Shepherd Dog’s chest and held him back. Otherwise, Max would’ve jumped right back out the shuttle side door and fallen to his death. Max lunged, fought her hold, but he didn’t bite her. She held strong, tried her best not to break anything on either of them as she did.
Tracer’s face rose up in her vision, the blood at the corner of his mouth, the whistling sound as he breathed. She hugged Max closer to her, heedless as the dog growled and struggled. He might still bite her, but she wouldn’t let him go after his master, not when Tracer had asked her to take care of him.
They had a hold of Dev, pulled him inside to safety and at a grim nod from him, they closed the shuttle door.
Chapter Eighteen
“Wow, you guys look like you need a good cup of coffee.”
Kaitlyn narrowed her eyes at the hologram of Boggle. He had a talent for understatement. She and Rygard had taken time to shower and pull on ship suits, but Rygard hadn’t shaved and the both of them were covered in scrapes and bruises.
She healed fast and clean, but not that fast.
“It was a long mission, man.” Rygard spoke over her shoulder from where he sat on her bunk.
Close enough to touch, but he wasn’t. Another twist added to the knot inside her that’d been growing since the free for all in the Colosseum.
“Data transfer incoming.” She hit the send command on the control board.
“Receiving.” Boggle’s nimble fingers flew across his console. After a moment, he reached off screen and lifted a handful of popcorn to his mouth. “So. Whatcha sending me?”
“In depth reports,” Rygard answered. “My entire team made individual reports to be included in the package to Terran headquarters. The most detailed is DeSarto’s. The rest, might not be as coherent. Consider this a...back up.”
