by L. E. Horn
In the initial days of the war, the controllers numbered one to every five or so slaves. Now they were often responsible for two to three times more, and the dwindling war resources spread them thin. This was fortunate for the slaves. Many controllers had a vicious streak, and Lianndra’s was no exception. He ruled them with a cruelty bordering on sadism. Only the fact he supervised Healers kept him from rendering any permanent harm. The Fang needed the Healers desperately. They couldn’t afford to lose any, particularly to a disgruntled controller.
There were medtechs, and there were Healers. Medtechs came in many species, but the Healers were human females. Or rather, they’d been humans before the Fang changed them. Medtechs used Fang technology to diagnose illnesses and heal minor wounds, but much of it remained hampered by the planetary shield’s effects. The jungle’s humidity also affected the accuracy of small electronic devices while the lengthy war stretched the operable technology to the breaking point. The Fang soldiers reserved the surviving tech for themselves, leaving their wounded slaves to the genetically modified Healers.
If only the collars were vulnerable to the effects of the shield. Lianndra hoped that someday the wretched thing would just fall off. As long as it doesn’t take part of my brain with it.
Besides their enhanced mental abilities, many Healers featured some of Lianndra’s external modifications, but few showed all. Their major similarity was the ability to heal with their minds.
Although I don’t know why we need hairy bodies if we spend our time in makeshift hospitals, she thought.
Her tail possessed an annoying tendency to reveal her mood swings, but it became increasingly handy. At the moment, it helped support her by winding around a rafter as she balanced on the huge alien’s chest.
Something pulsed beneath the sensitive finger pads that occupied the space below her claws, and Lianndra brought her mind back to the task at hand. The body she worked on might be alien but all beings needed a circulatory system to move nutrients around and carry away waste products.
Zraph were massive, the size of a standing rhino, and contributed brute strength to the Fang war. Zraph resembled a mudslide come alive—all bulky, rounded muscles, no neck, and bald heads with four eyes. They were bipedal with legs like pillars and rectangular feet ending in thick, stubby toes.
The Zraph that Lianndra worked on suffered from a tear in a major artery leading to one of its seven hearts. If it wasn’t for seven hearts, this one would never have made it, she thought. Lianndra let her mind follow her fingers. She felt the torn artery at the gross physiological level and moved deeper to the alien cells surrounding the injury.
Mother Nature abhors a vacuum. Destroyed tissue created a void in the cells, and the intact ones along the edges automatically went into overdrive to fill in the gap. Lianndra helped with this effort by using her genetically enhanced telekinesis. She redirected essential nutrients, oxygen, and growth factors to the struggling cells before penetrating them through pores in the membrane. Identifying the crucial proteins necessary to trigger mitosis, she pushed them into action. An experienced Healer accelerated cell division, healing even massive wounds. Some cells divided more willingly than others. Organ or nerve cells took considerable encouragement.
Lianndra’s energy depleted as she poured herself into the healing. With her aid, the deepest part of the ugly tear filled in with new cells. She withdrew, healing as she went. Once she reached the external muscle, she pulled out. Zraph were incredibly tough, and they had trained Lianndra not to waste her energy on a complete healing when a few laser staples got him back to the front line.
Lianndra’s tail released the rafter without her conscious thought before she slid down the side of the huge, sparsely haired body. The long shift healing nasty wounds exhausted her. Two medtechs clambered up behind her, trailing the laser stapler along with them. Lianndra’s bare, clawed feet touched the fluid-drenched floor. She turned to find herself face-to-torso with her controller.
His species, the Rosk, wouldn’t win any beauty contests, which might account for their terrible tempers. Lianndra assumed the females of the species found their mates attractive, but she certainly couldn’t fathom it. She’d never seen a female, so maybe they didn’t exist. Her controller could be he, she, or a neutral gender.
At any rate, from a human perspective, he’d been hit with a giant ugly stick. He stood eight feet tall, and his warty skin defeated any attempt to clothe him. He settled for a cloth draping over a shoulder that bulged its uneven way to the double-jointed knees on all three of his legs. The few other Rosks she’d seen were also warty, so it seemed a species trait. He had no neck, and a triangular, amorphous head featuring two narrow nostrils and three gummy eyes rimmed with red. His favorite hobby involved setting the Healers up to fail so he could inflict more pain.
As she stood facing him, her neck craned at an uncomfortable angle, Lianndra braced herself for a reprimand. For once the controller seemed preoccupied. He issued a brief command sounding part wheeze, part grunt, before turning to leave. The command carried through her collar to the node implanted within her inner ear, where it translated into English.
Lianndra turned to trudge out of the medic bay and along the muddy path to the administration quarters. She’d only been there once before and wondered why they wanted to see her now. Her tail twitched, her body needed food to replace the precious nutrients she lost while healing. Feeling shaky and dizzy, Lianndra hoped whatever this was could be resolved fast.
Lianndra sensed tension as soon as she stepped over the “Welcome” stone and entered the administration building. The spindly alien in the central cubicle gestured to the third room on the right. Called Wraiths by the Healers, they earned their name due to the wispy, elongated necks and limbs.
Multicolored cables and conduits covered the hallway walls. The makeshift look and low-tech aspect surprised Lianndra. The Fang weren’t even using wireless technology within the building, and Lianndra wondered why. She was certain the slave collars relied on wireless technology to operate between controller and slave.
Why do the collars work on this planet while other devices cannot? she thought. Do they use different technology? Perhaps the collars are not designed by the Fang, but by someone else.
Regardless, it was amazing the Gryphon had reduced the Fang to such a crude existence. Their planetary shield is impressive, she thought as she paused in front of the designated door.
As the door hissed closed behind her, she noticed the Fang they called Jrk’sak, the commander in chief of the forces on the planet. It surprised Lianndra to see him. Only the war coordinator, Tark’tosk, exceeded him in rank. Strategic decisions came from the war coordinator, through Jrk’sak, then to the Central Intelligence Processor. The CIP then distributed the orders to the frontline fighting forces. A direct line of communication existed from Tark’tosk to Jrk’sak who was usually kept too busy to involve himself in mundane affairs.
Mundane like me, Lianndra thought.
The big Fang’s presence made her nervous, but having another Healer in the room provided comfort. A short, redheaded woman she’d never seen before stood near one wall. Lianndra noticed she and the smaller woman shared the same modifications. Her buzzed red hair showed she had recently completed her modifications; she hadn’t been on the planet long. It reminded Lianndra of how her new body hair caused her to itch, becoming so irritating that she considered trying life as a hairy nudist. Seeing this woman made her realize just how furry she’d become, and it made her uncomfortable.
Lianndra’s distress increased as the Fang commander in chief stepped aside to reveal the room’s other occupant, a stocky human male. Against brown skin further darkened by many hours in the sun, the man possessed black, tightly curled, short hair, and thick eyebrows over equally dark, piercing eyes. Like all the slaves, he looked fighting fit. He dressed in a soldier’s camouflage uniform that clung to his muscular body.
Lianndra heard from the other Healers about human mal
es at the war’s front lines, but she’d not seen one until now. These barracks didn’t receive humans as wounded, and she hadn’t seen them on the base. She lived in only one of many Fang barracks on this world so she assumed the men got healed elsewhere. In the beginning, she’d felt deflated when she discovered there were no men at their barracks. A part of her yearned to integrate with other humans, but the physical changes to her body gave her hesitation. She no longer looked fully human. The thought of potential rejection by her own species made her insides squirm.
The thoughts coursed through her brain as the human male finished examining the redheaded woman from head to foot. He seemed shocked by the woman’s appearance. When his eyes skimmed over Lianndra, she wanted to dissolve into the floor.
“They’re new recruits?” he asked Jrk’sak. Lianndra’s heart lifted at the sound of a normal human voice even as she detected a slight accent—British or Aussie.
The redheaded Healer had shifted under his scrutiny, and out of the corner of her eye, Lianndra noticed the woman’s tail tucked to the back of her legs.
The almost indecipherable voice of Jrk’sak answered the man. “Both are. One here only a little longer.” The Farr had the usual problems speaking English and only an experienced ear permitted her to understand the garbled words.
“Both trained?” His accent sounded Australian, Lianndra determined. An Aussie human male slave. Much higher on the pecking order than her, it would seem.
The Fang nodded, refraining from verbal comment. Lianndra concluded the Farr’s heavier jaw and tongue made the human languages difficult. Certainly, she’d never seen a Farr speaking English like the Fara did.
“Well, we need ’em.” The Aussie turned to the women, addressing the air between them. “Report here at first daylight tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Disappointment stabbed at Lianndra as she and the other woman left. He didn’t even meet my eyes. Am I so hard to look at?
It wasn’t until she walked on the path, trailed by the redhead, that she absorbed what he’d said.
I’m leaving the barracks in the morning. Anticipation flooded her, and she didn’t mind if her life changed yet again, even if it meant following a human to the front lines. I’m ready to face something more. She only hoped the voice in her collar agreed and revealed the secrets she knew were there.
“My name is Hannah.” The soft voice broke into her reverie as Lianndra turned to face the smaller woman. Their eyes met for the first time and Lianndra felt a mild jolt from her collar.
Yes, the voice of the interactive guide came alive in her ear, she is one of us. Healer Hannah.
Lianndra saw the recognition dawn in the tawny eyes of her new friend as the other woman also heard her own version of the Fara’s voice. “I’m . . .”
“Lianndra,” Hannah said. “I know. I think we have a friend in common.”
Wow. Suddenly there were new possibilities. Lianndra’s heart skipped a beat. The surrounding jungle seemed more alive now than it had mere seconds ago. As they turned to head to the commissary, Lianndra felt empowered by more than mere claws and a tail. Finally, things are going to happen!
Chapter Ten
WITH THE GROUND OVER TWO hundred feet below, Lianndra released her tail’s hold on the branch and flew through the air. To her left, Hannah paced her through the canopy, a red blur in the dappled light. Claws penetrated rough bark, safely bringing them home against yet another huge trunk. Lianndra had her skrin on her forearm, but she rarely needed it at this elevation where the huge branches interlocked to form a high-altitude highway. The skrin helped to move them up and down in the forest.
It had taken weeks of practice at lower levels before the two Healers tackled the upper canopy. The flora’s tendency to possess distinct fauna characteristics added an element of unpredictability. They learned to stay clear of the mobile predatory plant species. In the first week of their deployment, both Healers required rescue by their caretakers on more than a few occasions.
But the Healers learned fast. They soon traveled beyond as well as above the men who hacked their way through the bottommost foliage. As they moved, they used special scent glands on their wrists to lay a trail back to the group, a technique that kept them from getting lost. Lianndra found swinging through the canopy invigorating, mimicking a freedom that in reality she didn’t have.
The tropical rainforests of the planet Tarin teemed with life. Lianndra remembered reading about the incredible diversity of Earth’s rainforests. If they were similar to Tarin’s, they were remarkable.
Every giant tree revealed a city unto itself, providing a home for vast numbers of plants and entire colonies of animals large and small. The life forms straddling the line between flora and fauna seemed unique, and many grew larger than the mobile vines Lianndra noticed her first day on the planet. She’d seen huge leafy tendrils snatch indigenous critters out of the air. They folded their leathery leaves around the victim until the animal itself remained visible only as a bulge along the stems.
The modifications to her human body finally made sense. Claws and a prehensile tail worked better than skrins, enabling the Healers to navigate the upper levels of the enormous trees. They moved ahead of the men, scouting for trouble, searching for sustenance, and looking for the frontline fighting units that needed their help.
Lianndra paused, leaning against a branch while tapping a small oval disc she’d woven into her hair. They sent messages back to their controllers using comm units since the collar’s communication systems only worked within the line of sight.
The Aussie who’d recruited the two Healers from the barracks was their captain and their controller. He is far and away nicer than my previous controller. Mind you, she thought of the ugly Rosk, I guess that’s not saying much.
“All clear along this vector. No sign of them yet,” Lianndra’s soft-spoken words relayed back. Captain Drake gave her a new vector to search over the comm.
She and Hannah proved their value as trained Healers, but they also excelled as mobile scouts. In fact, the two skill sets were not as divergent as they seemed. Drake’s small human division searched for and rescued injured or missing frontline soldiers. Their human adaptability meant they could work through any situation while keeping themselves alive. Find, Heal, and Reactivate. The so-called FHR divisions formed a new initiative straight from war coordinator Tark’tosk’s office, one that served the Fang war effort well.
That it came directly from the war coordinator explains Jrk’sak’s presence in the office, she thought. He ensured each group got off to a good start. I’ve heard it isn’t wise to annoy the coordinator.
The FHR divisions consisted of two Healers and six human male soldiers overseen by a human captain. The soldiers protected and sustained the Healers, who could heal and reactivate an entire Fang fighting unit within a few hours.
Each FHR division had an assigned patrol area, defined by the fighting units they served and coordinates fed into the FHR controller’s collar by Jrk’sak. Even Drake must stay within this designated perimeter or face pain and then death via the collar nodes. The slaves reporting to him could only stray a set distance from Drake, or they met the same fate. It formed a tidy method for keeping slaves within boundaries without direct Fang supervision.
The permitted area coordinates for each FHR division could be manually altered by any Fang commander, as long as he possessed the device necessary to do so. So if the fighting units shifted positions, their commanders could reprogram the FHR coordinates to keep pace with them.
The Healers moved within their safe distance from Drake. Lianndra made the course correction he’d requested and Hannah followed suit. Their enhanced vision, hearing, and sense of smell made it possible for the two women to connect in ways appearing telepathic. They moved through the canopy as one, each aware of the other’s presence.
Soaring through the jungle lifted Lianndra’s spirits, and she knew Hannah felt the same. Away from direct Fang contact, they were the happies
t they’d been since their capture. The veneer of civilization, Fang or otherwise, fell away with their first leap into the trees and didn’t return until the end of the day. From the roughness of tree bark beneath their claws to the sounds and scents, the jungle spoke to the Healers. It represented a connection to nature lost long ago, not only by the earthbound humans but also by the technologically advanced Fang. A connection abandoned, yet not forgotten. Deep within the women, something essential was being reborn.
If only we were here by choice and not serving the Fang, Lianndra thought.
As the division patrolled, they hunted. The jungle provided rich protein sources suitable for human consumption, which meant the soldiers could keep the Healers in top condition. As Hannah and Lianndra moved, they spotted potential food, reported them to Drake, who sent soldiers to collect them. Every night, the women rested while the men erected the sleeping tents and cooked the day’s bounty. The Healers joked to themselves about the role reversal. Some men were less than happy with their situation, but Drake, as their captain and controller, called the shots. If he wanted it done, it got done.
Drake stayed aloof. If he knew of the occasional resentful glance sent in the women’s direction, he didn’t let on. He treated everyone with the same aura of detachment, expecting each person to perform their duties as assigned. He verbally corrected if someone fell out of line. As the FHR division worked its way through a savage jungle on an alien world, Lianndra recognized the captain’s attention to detail kept everyone not only focused and efficient but safe.
One particular thing got under Lianndra’s skin: Drake rarely looked at her. She wondered if he saw the Healers as animals and not human, or if she put her own spin on things. Lianndra stayed away from him regardless, not wanting to witness him avoid meeting her eyes. She didn’t want to have her suspicions verified.
