by L. E. Horn
The Fara stepped forward, and Lianndra couldn’t suppress a flinch.
“Please.” A single, slurred word that Lianndra understood.
Despite her fear, it shocked Lianndra. Farr had trouble with human languages, especially English. Even though Lianndra adopted a few Fang profanities as her own, she didn’t know of any human that spoke the language well, although some understood it. Farr mangled English words to a degree where they were almost unidentifiable. She’d always considered it the result of a mouth full of big teeth and a thickened tongue. Yet as this Fara spoke, Lianndra understood what she said. “Do not be afraid.” The black lips formed the words with ease despite the tips of the sharp teeth showing as she spoke. “I do not have much time. You must listen.”
The Fara waited for Lianndra to come forward, which she did; surprising herself. Something in the Fara’s demeanor spiked Lianndra’s curiosity, something furtive.
When Lianndra stood before her, the Fang raised a taloned hand, opening it to reveal a tiny disk. “The information on this will tell you what you need to know about the upcoming trials ahead. I will download it now onto your collar. The program will activate once the collar receives final modification at the laboratory.”
The huge orange eyes swirled with a burst of red. Lianndra knew the color change meant intensity of emotion for a Fang. She started to speak, but the Fara cut her off.
“I do not have time for your questions. Any attempt to talk of this meeting or the data on the datachrys, will result in it being erased from both your mind and the collar. It may harm the cellular matrix of your brain if such occurs.”
She reached toward Lianndra’s collar, pausing when the human stepped back. The eyes swirled again, meeting Lianndra’s for the first time. The lips parted, but the Fara didn’t speak for a beat or two as if assessing what words might reassure the human woman.
Finally, the Fara spoke. “This information could lead you to freedom.”
The words reverberated through Lianndra. Freedom. Was she serious? How do I know if she is telling the truth? The Fara might have her own agenda. She might be hiding something from her people. But what have I got to lose? This Fang can do what she wants with me regardless of how I feel. If there is even a hope of freedom . . . why not try?
Lianndra forced herself to step forward. It took courage to stand before the Fara while turning her head to one side, exposing the collar, along with her neck, to the alien. The Fang touched the datachrys to the collar. Lianndra felt warmth pulse through it, and she shuddered. She stepped back to look at the tall alien.
“I am afraid the next few days will be unpleasant, but be assured, better times are ahead,” the Fara said.
There was an air of finality in those words, and as Lianndra went to step away from the Fara, the stun feature in her collar activated. As her consciousness faded, she sensed the small, gray-skinned aliens step forward to catch her slumping body.
MY LIFE UNTIL NOW HAS been a party. Lianndra hung suspended from the laboratory ceiling. Newly de-haired and disinfected, she felt naked and exposed. The lab techs maintained her in a permanent state of low-level sedation, so she faded in and out of consciousness. It kept her unaware of the passage of time but did little to buffer the unpleasant side effects of the solution they injected.
Sometimes she lost it, fighting the restraints with the intensity of a tiger, only to end up hanging limp, breathless with exhaustion. There were times she tested the restraints and imagined they barely held her. Lianndra debated this scenario during one of her rare lucid phases. I seem to remember the Fang techs running in a panic.
Whatever the case, she had become familiar with some of her body’s new idiosyncrasies. These included the enlarged canines and strong curved claws instead of wimpy human nails. Her eyesight provided her with a wider spectrum of color than normal human eyes. Her skin itched all over as if there were more changes to come.
But by far the strangest offering was the tail.
At first, it appeared as a small bump at the base of her spine. After an excruciating series of injections, it developed into an impressive naked rat’s tail measuring about four feet long. It seemed prehensile, much like a monkey’s. Lianndra discovered the grasping ability just before the Fang did. It had led to a lot of frenzied activity among the techs until they fastened it into a restraint along with the rest of her. The tail possessed a mind of its own. Lianndra wondered if all mammalian tails were like this. It felt as though the appendage revealed her every mood. My cat’s tail always twitched when she got ready to pounce.
During her more lucid periods, Lianndra wondered at what point she’d stopped being human. Her foggy brain could not deal with the concept. She imagined what the reaction would be to her back on Earth if she ever made it home. Her family wouldn’t recognize her. Some might run away screaming.
Her thoughts switched to one human in particular.
Lianndra doubted Michael would want to see her like this. What good is freedom if I look like a freak? The thought made her fight the restraints, which sent a tech running for the sedation controls. Then she slid under again, rescued from thoughts that only grew darker with time.
Yet no matter how bad it got, Lianndra didn’t tell the lab techs about her strange conversation with the Fara outside the cube. Through the tortuous procedures, she held it close to her, clinging to it like a lifeline.
Perhaps they can reverse this one day. Then it’ll be worth it to be free.
BEING PINNED INSTEAD OF SUSPENDED woke Lianndra from her stupor. Something invisible pressed her down. Visions of dissecting tables flashed through her brain and she rebelled with all her strength. An inhuman scream filled the laboratory. The sound startled her until she recognized it came from herself. Techs flew to their consoles, reinforcing the table restraints as she writhed. Her heart pounded as though it would tear from her chest.
A hum came from beneath, sucking her body even closer to the table. It held her immobile while her mind raced in panic.
What now? As she woke, logic reasserted itself. Dissection isn’t their goal, not after the work they have put into me. It would be something else. Not pleasant. But also, not deadly.
The answer became clear when her collar moved.
Reason left her as she succumbed to the most primitive of instincts: protect the throat. Lianndra was now so accustomed to wearing the collar she rarely noticed it. Although she could never forget what it represented, in the normal daily routine it didn’t bear much thought.
But when the collar came alive, she panicked. Held immobile, her soaring heart rate was the only available outlet for her fear.
The collar pulsed as it moved on her neck, reorienting itself. A slim metal arm rose from the table edge, its pointed tip joining forces with the molten collar. She felt something penetrate her skin to insert its way through her skull and into her brain, something far larger than the spidery network that already existed.
The pain pierced her, a brutal invasion probing its way into her head. When it paused, Lianndra gasped in relief. Then it exploded, and a flaming starburst shredded every part of her brain.
Lianndra blacked out.
Chapter Nine
THE COLLARS ENSURE OBEDIENCE. THE simple slave one you wore has now evolved to the more advanced remote model, capable not only of instilling pain but also of killing. Your controller sends commands to a node within your inner ear via the collar. For most slaves, they either obey those commands or die.
Your collar is different. This interactive guide, downloaded from the datachrys, has disabled the kill function, but the pain node is still enabled. To disable this might alert your controller to a problem. There is no known way to fake a pain impulse reaction.
As a rebel slave, your safety and eventual path to freedom relies on your ability to obey as though the collar works normally. Bear this in mind.
Lianndra awoke, the Fang voice fading away inside her head. It seemed different than the Fara’s she’d met outside the c
ube. This one sounded older, raspier.
The restraints had disappeared, and Lianndra lay on a long, narrow bed in temporary quarters. Temporary because she saw places where light showed through at the corners. The walls themselves bore the drag and scuff marks of many moves.
Other than a headache, she felt good. She smelled something damp and pungent. It took her a moment to recognize it as the smell of decaying vegetation. Unfamiliar sounds reminded her of furtive wild animals in a natural setting.
I don’t think I’m still on the ship, she thought. Where the heck am I?
Lianndra sat up, flexing her joints. Her body’s weight pushing down on the base of her spine made her aware of a strange sensation. Squirming onto a hip to relieve the pressure, something brushed her leg, and she acknowledged recent events were not just a dream.
I do have a tail.
It twitched as she contemplated first it, and then each finger, turning her hands to examine her claws. Lianndra also noticed her arms were no longer naked but now sported a faint fuzz of golden, dense hair. In fact, as she pushed back the thin single blanket, the fuzz covered her whole body. The places usually hairy were still, well, hairy.
Great, she thought, Now I’m turning into a blonde Bigfoot.
Lianndra felt naked despite the fur, and experienced tremendous relief to see a simple green tunic lying across the foot of the bed. She stood to slide it over her head. The lower hem pushed down on her tail, and she worried twitching might show things she would rather not have revealed. Her fingers trailed over the slave collar, tracing the spot behind her left ear where a thick strand entered her skull. The collar itself seemed narrower, forming a thinner band across her throat. With a shudder, she snatched the fingers away.
The door along one wall opened without warning.
Could have knocked, Lianndra thought in exasperation, tugging at the hem of her tunic. She looked into the eyes of a creature that used to be human.
The female—woman—Lianndra corrected herself, who stood at the door possessed human features. At first, Lianndra thought she wore clothes, but then she noticed the woman’s entire body appeared covered with dark hair, thinner on her face and hands and longer on her head. It cascaded down her back to blend with the short, dense hair covering the rest of her body, and appeared interwoven in areas over the breasts and groin to mask those details.
“Come.” The woman turned to leave and obviously expected Lianndra to follow. As she turned, Lianndra noticed the slave had a tail, shorter than her own. Yet the hand left for a moment on the door frame, possessed normal human fingernails and not Lianndra’s strong claws.
The woman led her into a lush jungle. For a second, Lianndra’s heart soared, thinking she might be back on Earth. Then she noticed the strange plants. She’d never visited the tropics on Earth but she was certain her planet had never seen a vine writhing like a snake. It dropped from above to trail along her arm before recoiling as if scorched. After that unsettling experience, the more she looked around, the less the jungle seemed like Earth’s.
The strange foliage wasn’t the only difference. Lianndra noticed the extra bounce in each step, which indicated the gravity on this planet differed from Earth’s. It seemed closer to the gravity maintained within the Coliseum.
Her companion didn’t seem the talkative type. Maybe she’s just shy. “Where are we?” Lianndra asked.
The woman answered without turning around or missing a step. “We are on the planet Tarin,” she said in a clipped and unwelcoming tone.
Okay, this will be like pulling teeth. But there is likely only one place they would send me. “I take it we are near the front lines of the Gryphon war?”
“Tarin is the Gryphon home world. These barracks are a long way from the front lines.”
Wow, two whole sentences, Lianndra thought.
The pathway opened to a large clearing featuring many dilapidated buildings of various sizes. The clearing bustled with activity. Fang in uniforms walked with purpose between the buildings. There were no vehicles of any kind, so everyone relied on foot power. Surveying with interest, it appeared low-tech to Lianndra, especially for a race as advanced as the Fang. Her guide turned along another pathway. The jungle closed in once more.
“Where are the transports? I don’t see any vehicles,” Lianndra said.
There weren’t even sounds other than those of the jungle and the harsh murmur of Fang voices behind thin metal walls. No clear signs of high-tech—no fighter jets, no battle cruisers, not even any all-terrain machines or whatever else they used for planetary warfare.
Lianndra thought she saw a hesitation in the woman’s stride, but she might have just been adjusting to step over a giant root—they were everywhere. Lianndra saw the short tail whip back and forth once.
“The Fang have tried to disable the planetary shield but have not met with any success so far. Until the shield falls, they cannot bring in any heavy mechanical equipment. It limits them to a foot war,” the woman said.
That surprised Lianndra. Shields preventing equipment use? No wonder the Fang have trouble with this war. The Gryphon were at least as advanced as the Fang if they shielded their planet. Wait a minute. “Then how did we get here?”
The woman stopped and turned to face her. “Drop ships carry replacements, and they follow an entry trajectory to the barracks. The ships don’t possess independent drives so they aren’t affected by the shield. The only way off the planet is with simple projectile technology. Now, enough questions.” The tail whipped. It reminded Lianndra again of her annoyed cat.
Glancing behind her, she noticed her own tail waved like a weaving cobra. Lianndra felt it moving but didn’t have any conscious control over it.
The two slaves resumed their trek. Lianndra kept silent but her mind stayed abuzz. She didn’t know why the war existed between the Fang and the Gryphon, but she assumed it an attempt by the Fang to obtain more slaves.
I expected races so advanced would pound away at each other in huge metal space battleships around the planet, or at least with tanks on the ground. A low-tech foot war put a new complexion on things. They must want these slaves pretty badly for it to go on for so long.
Lianndra followed the woman along a worn path to a large building that looked just as decrepit as the others. As they entered, Lianndra’s eyes caught an English word etched neatly on a flat stone placed in the mud at the foot of the steps. “Welcome,” she read.
Despite exhaustion, her lips twitched as she contemplated the slave who’d placed the stone, adorned with his touch of humor. Whoever thought a silly bit of slave nostalgia would be the highlight of my day? Earth feels like a lifetime ago. Still, as she stepped on the makeshift welcome mat, her heart lightened at the human refusal to surrender the spirit. We may wear collars, but that doesn’t make us less human. Only more determined to survive.
YOU SHALL BE A HEALER and we will use this mutation to further our cause.
The words reverberated in her mind as Lianndra sank her hands deeper into the body before her, past the torn skin and muscle, seeking the vessel pumping the alien’s lifeblood away.
The rebel program installed in her collar activated the voice of the old Fara to the node in her inner ear. Lianndra often repeated the scratchy words within her head. At first, she had no idea what the Fara meant by her reference to Healer, but Lianndra soon found out. From her initial day on the alien planet, she trained with other, older Healers. They taught her how to use her new genetically enhanced skills to heal.
Lianndra discovered that beyond the physical enhancements, the Fang geneticists had tapped into the depths of the human brain to enhance latent telekinetic abilities. These skills might have evolved naturally on Earth if given enough time. Lianndra had heard of people back home that healed with their minds, although it was rare and often discredited.
With this new skill and training, Lianndra manipulated a living body at the cellular level. Once shown the key molecules essential for cell division, she fo
und it easy to identify them again. She used her mind to move the molecules, supplying the cells with nutrients while using the proteins to initiate division. She looked within any injury placed before her and knit it back together, one cell at a time.
Lianndra caught on fast—her veterinarian training had schooled her in the basic building blocks of life as well as cellular histology, biochemistry, and animal physiology. Although she worked on aliens, all life forms possessed things in common; their structure, form, and function could be assessed on this basis. Comparing the damaged cells of the injury site to healthy cells in the same individual enabled her to repair almost anything. She flew through the training program and started healing without supervision.
Every night, the scratchy Fara voice invaded her mind. At first, Lianndra had been afraid the collar enabled someone to overhear the rebellious thoughts, but she soon discovered the collars didn’t form a telepathic connection. Rather, they worked via computerized nodes implanted in her brain. For her controller to trigger the pain nodes he had to have Lianndra in a direct line of sight. He would stare at her and clench his fist; his collar read the nerve impulses of his hand while interpreting his visual orientation before a wireless signal engaged the shock feature on her collar.
Her fellow Healers informed her the collar also had the ability to track a slave’s location relative to their controller. If they strayed beyond a certain distance, the collar first warned—then caused pain—and if ignored—would kill.
Lianndra certainly didn’t want to give her particular controller any excuse to exact punishment. As it was, he never strayed far from causing her pain. All he needed were his eyes and a clenched fist.
Controllers were fellow slaves. They could be any species but they shared one thing in common: they served their Fang overlords with unswerving loyalty. Not all of them required the threat of their own collars to do so.
