Freeforce: The Gryphon Saga

by L. E. Horn

  He slashed at the crotch of Jake’s threadbare uniform. The fabric parted, exposing the prisoner’s skin to everyone.

  “Look closely, mates. Powers used to heal can also destroy.” He straightened, sheathing his knife.

  The men gawked. Faces paled. A few shifted and winced.

  The wound showed no blood or scar tissue, nothing to disable him either as a functional human or as a useful part of the division. Also, nothing that would ever again label him as male.

  “Be bloody grateful they’re on our side,” Drake said. “They work along with us, heal our wounds. Treat them with the respect they are due.”

  Lianndra stood beside Hannah, feeling sick. Hannah’s small hand folded into her own.

  “Pack up. We leave in an hour. Dismissed.” Drake spun on his heel and strode away.

  In silence the soldiers followed him, avoiding each other’s eyes. Released, Jake rolled onto his side in a fetal position, lying in the dirt.

  As she and Hannah turned to leave, Lianndra noticed Drake pause by the clearing’s edge. The captain stared at her, brows drawn. Only his eyes betrayed the activity within his brain. He knew I’d done something to that man, but he didn’t know I could remodel—remove—things. In fact, I hadn’t known until now just what I’d done either. She still tried to wrap her head around it.

  Hannah gently touched her arm as they moved to pack their few possessions. “Well, those guys won’t bother us anytime soon,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I don’t know if I could have done what you did. You are amazing.”

  Lianndra gave her a shaky smile. She bent to gather her things. If you’d asked me yesterday, I would’ve told you I couldn’t either. Lianndra wasn’t proud of what she’d done. Yes, she’d been blazingly angry at the man, but they were on a strange world far from home and living in a nightmare situation. You can’t expect people to act as they normally would. The violent attack last night still made her tremble. But I’m not surprised it happened. Did she blame him? She didn’t know. But it was done. She had to admit she wasn’t inclined to undo it.

  She remembered Drake’s reaction. Was he impressed with what I did, or repulsed?

  Aloof and unreadable most times, Drake was also fair. Lianndra knew he had her back on this crazy world. Because of him our lives are as good as they can get. She wouldn’t want that to change, for him not to trust her. They could have just as easily ended up with a cruel captain, or one who had a closer commitment to the Fang. Drake seems committed to doing his job well. He keeps us alive and off the Fang radar.

  Lately, she even wanted to talk to the captain to get to know him better. She also found herself drawn to the handsome, blond man named Sean, who was more easygoing than Drake. Lianndra had spoken to Sean a few times, and he seemed genuine. I keep thinking about Michael as if I will see him again. He could be dead, and there are other men on this planet. If they could possibly see me as a human other than an animal—I could seek something more. I’m so tired of being alone. Hannah was good company, but it was impossible to work so closely with other humans and not want more than just a functional relationship. We are social creatures after all.

  Lianndra pinched her lower lip beneath a fang, considering. Her nonhuman differences were too visible, and she remained afraid of rejection. Now, fear would fold into any social dynamic. What guy wants to risk being unmanned if I get angry?

  She sighed, thinking of the rodent she’d killed just before she’d maimed her human attacker. I hope when we break free of this, there will be something human left in me. As time goes by, the savage part just keeps getting stronger.

  THE TECHNICIAN WHO SLIPPED THE datachrys into the pocket of Ewtk’fisk’s gown did so skillfully. Ewtk’fisk didn’t realize she had it until after the Fara disappeared. The midday meal provided her first opportunity to listen to it without arousing any suspicions. She retreated to a quiet, remote spot near an exterior portal. Perching on a flotation cushion, Ewtk’fisk plugged the datachrys into her handheld device and sat back as if enjoying a recorded lecture.

  The short message provided a simple update. Long after it finished, Ewtk’fisk sat, gazing out the portal to the peaceful orb of green and gold far below.

  Her contact reported a development in their plans. The ripples were spreading.

  She sighed. To date, she’d played only a small role in the rebellion. Small, but critical to the entire effort. The regular reports indicated her special Healers had been placed into the FHR units behind the front lines. But the disabling of the collars would take time, with no way for the rebels to track progress. With all the random factors that could intercede, success was far from assured.

  Others in the rebellion calculated these things. Rebel Tlok’mk much higher up the chain planned for contingencies and for the sequence of events that needed to occur to see their goals through to the end. Except for a few individuals at the heart of the rebellion, no single Tlok’mk knew more than what they needed to succeed with their personal contributions. Such compartmentalization might be necessary for security reasons, but on a personal level, it made it hard to feel they were accomplishing much.

  Ewtk’fisk sighed as she slipped the datachrys into her palm. Seconds after she removed it from her device, it disintegrated into a small pile of dust in her scaly hand.

  Go, little humans. Use those creative, cunning brains of yours. Save us from ourselves.

  LIANNDRA AND HANNAH RESTED HIGH in the canopy of a jungle giant with their tails wrapped around its branches for added security. Below them, their FHR division set up camp before preparing dinner. The Healers had time to themselves before the evening routine swung into gear.

  As part of her relentless effort to bolster her friend’s self-esteem, Hannah encouraged Lianndra to get more creative with her appearance. Today’s project involved growing the hair on their heads long enough to braid in long cornrows while adding anything perceived as decorative into them. Lianndra felt like a teenager primping for a prom date.

  Hannah supervised Lianndra through the braiding project on her own red hair. Lianndra’s effort led to irregular cornrows decorated with small stones and a few errant metallic feathers. Although it looked rather haphazard, Hannah seemed pleased with the results. The smaller Healer now hunched over a branch with lovely green inner wood. Her small fingers manipulated a mini-tool she borrowed from Drake to cut the branch into segments. She then drilled holes through them to create beads for Lianndra’s braids.

  “These will be great in your hair,” Hannah said. “They will pick up the color of your eyes.”

  Lianndra sighed. What difference does it make what my hair looks like? She’d become even more withdrawn since the human slave attacked her. The assault made her warier, but she worried most about her loss of control. Rage caused her to use healing powers to maim with no conscious thought on her part. Would I have taken it even further if the others hadn’t shown up? What if I’d focused on his brain and not his crotch? Could I have killed him? The more she explored her healing powers, the more she seemed capable of, and sometimes it frightened her.

  She tried to shake herself loose from her grim thoughts for her friend’s sake. Hannah worked hard to cheer her up. The redheaded Healer so obviously enjoyed herself that it made Lianndra reluctant to stop her. If she tilted her head and squinted, Lianndra admitted her friend’s hair looked nice, especially with the beads and feathers woven in.

  I wonder if she is trying to get someone’s attention? Although Hannah spoke to all the men, Drake remained the one with which she spent the most time. Lianndra couldn’t say she’d ever noticed the captain seeking Hannah. Of course, I’m always avoiding him, so how would I know?

  Hannah set her finished wooden beads down before pulling two metallic feathers from the pouch around her neck. “Okay, now sit still. These cornrows are tricky and I don’t want to get them crooked.”

  As Lianndra submitted to her friend’s concentrated work, she smiled. She would value the braids because her friend w
anted her to look pretty. As a symbol of our friendship, they will do just fine. I guess they’re making me feel better after all.

  LIANNDRA’S CORNROWS STILL HELD STRONG the day Drake’s command to hold position and wait for new instructions came through loud and clear. Lianndra propped a hip in the fork of two large branches, her tail holding her secure as Hannah dropped from above to sit opposite her.

  “Wonder what’ll it be this time?” Lianndra said.

  They’d been patrolling closer to the front lines than usual over the last few days. In fact, they’d retraced their steps as if waiting for something.

  Hannah leaned forward to check her friend’s braids. “Hey, you lost a feather.”

  “Snagged it on a branch and it got lost in the leaves.” Lianndra pulled a ration bar from a pocket she had formed from hair so densely woven it looked like felted cloth. Hannah noticed the pocket and laughed. “Wow, nice trick. You always come up with new stuff. I’m still carrying them around my neck.” She gestured to the ration bar tied to a tether. “Stupid thing keeps trying to string me up. I’m going to try the pocket idea.” She frowned at the red hair on her ribs, poking at it. After a few minutes, she formed something that might hold a ration bar—at least through the first few leaps.

  With a smile on her face, Lianndra looked away to survey the open canopy. A flock of brightly colored flying creatures ducked and dodged through the branches. Did they shed the bright feathers decorating her and Hannah’s hair? They often found them lying discarded on a branch or leaf.

  The reptilian creatures appeared pretty, if you didn’t see them up close. The flocks zeroed in on wounded or sick creatures in the upper canopy, but the Healers remained safe as long as they didn’t bleed. They had to be careful when healing the wounded for it left them covered in blood. Whenever she spotted them, Lianndra dropped into the dense foliage of the lower branches just in case.

  She kept a wary eye on where the creatures vanished as Drake’s voice dictated new instructions via their comm units. Lianndra and Hannah were instructed to split up and watch for an incoming unit.

  “Oh, damn. More Fang commandos.” Hannah grimaced, and Lianndra’s stomach twisted. After her last experience, healing Fang made her more nervous than ever.

  Hannah swung off to her allotted sentry point as Lianndra moved to hers. She caught another glimpse of the flying reptile flock but it moved away. Lianndra settled herself in a tree offering a view of the jungle floor for a good distance around her. Both Healers used their ears and noses to detect activity through the thick undergrowth. The native flora and fauna provided an excellent early warning system for anything moving on the ground.

  With one ear on nature’s grapevine, Lianndra wrapped her tail around a branch as she made good use of her downtime. Lately, she practiced meditation to enter a self-healing trance, permitting her to address any health concerns while they were in the earliest of stages. Making herself comfortable, she went within. When she first tried going within her own body, she’d been afraid of losing herself. Lianndra discovered if she left one of her senses attuned to the outside world, she could use it as an anchor to draw her back to consciousness. As she gained confidence, she meditated every few days to keep herself in the peak of health and ready for any eventuality.

  Today she found little to concern her as she drifted within. A slight tear in one muscle, easily mended, and the merest trace of congestion in the lobe of one lung, simple to clear. On the periphery of her awareness, she sensed an energy flowing like a river through her body. She’d noticed it before, and although initially unsure as to its purpose, she finally recognized it as the lines of energy corresponding to the meridians used in Chinese medicine.

  Lianndra knew little about the energy meridians, or rivers of energy. Curious, she experimented by manipulating the concentrations of energy at each point along the meridians while noting their effects.

  Sitting on the branch, she followed an energy path and found an interruption in the flow at one point—a spot pulsing erratically. She backtracked to the blockage and pushed it forward with her mind until she restored the current’s flow. As she awoke from her trance, Lianndra longed for a meridian guidebook. Was the blocked point related to the congested lung? She wished she had studied them back on Earth, so she could understand the effect of manipulating the energies. Using the meridians would be a helpful addition to my healing techniques. For now, she could use her own body as a template while she attempted to learn from it.

  Lianndra had emerged from her meditation and eaten her last ration bar before the Fang unit finally showed. By that time, darkness had fallen. Being closer to their approach, Hannah alerted Drake and Lianndra.

  The Healers fell in along the flanks of the incoming unit, watching and listening for predators.

  Drake met them on the way to the camp. Out of a team of fifteen commandos, only five had survived. To Lianndra’s horror, the Fang had a captive, who turned out to be the reason they sought the FHR division. Their captive had received an injury during her seizure.

  When they reached the clearing, Lianndra and Hannah swung out of the trees behind the last limping Fang.

  “We need you both,” Drake stalked across the camp to where three burly Fang dropped a bundle on the ground.

  In the darkness it proved difficult to see what the bundle contained. As Lianndra stepped forward, a Fang shoved her toward the shadowy form lying in the dirt. It shocked Lianndra to see a small Gryphon, seemingly less than half-grown. She remembered the Gryphon child she and Andrea saw in the Pitfight. This one retained its feathery fur, but dark blood covered half its body.

  “We need better light,” Lianndra said. Behind her, Hannah directed a soldier to fetch it.

  Lianndra crouched beside the small female Gryphon. About the size of a pony, the creature’s back would be level with Lianndra’s waist. The white-feathered crest lay flattened against her head and the large, violet eyes were dull with pain. Lianndra noticed the fur shone pale blue in the moonlight, marked with white stripes and spots. I didn’t know they were so colorful.

  Lianndra heard the ominous gurgle of a compromised respiratory system. She’d never worked on a Gryphon. By the dark looks of the surrounding Fang, she’d better do a good job of working on this one.

  When the lights arrived, Drake combined diplomacy and brisk commands to back the Fang away from their prize. Lianndra appreciated his bravery. It takes balls to stand up to the Fang.

  Hannah crouched on the other side of the little one’s body, holding a lamp. The light, although dim, allowed Lianndra to assess the most critical injury: a long, deep tear in the Gryphon’s side, between its arm and foreleg, that bubbled air with each breath.

  “I’ve got this.” Lianndra placed a hand into the tear. She heard a sharp gasp and the violet eyes widened.

  Hannah cushioned the long head between her hands, turning it so one large eye met hers. A newly installed collar on the graceful neck of the Gryphon gleamed in the lamplight. Hannah glanced at Lianndra before closing her eyes and reaching for the pain centers.

  With Hannah on pain patrol, Lianndra reached deeper into the wound, casting her mind on a wider swath than normal, trying to get a feel for the Gryphon’s physiology. Rather than two lungs as in a human, they had a series of air sacs running through the torso. A laser had sliced right through the sacs of this Gryphon. Enough remained intact to enable the creature to breathe even with such massive damage. The equivalent wound in a human would have been fatal. Fortunately, the laser causing the injury partially cauterized it, minimizing the blood loss.

  It took a delicate and patient touch to heal the wound. Lianndra sighed as the last air sac inflated and the Gryphon’s breathing improved. Lianndra healed the overlying membranes and muscle tissue, withdrawing until the skin re-knit over the muscle. Soon, only a gap in the blue and white feathery fur along the creature’s side indicated she had been hurt.

  Lianndra sensed the Fang’s restlessness while he waited for her to
finish, but she left her hands on the Gryphon’s skin for a few moments longer. Going back within the creature’s body, the Healer unfocused her mental eye, searching for something out of the corner of her vision.

  She found them—the alien possessed energy meridians similar to her own. They followed different pathways, and Lianndra had no idea how they connected to the creature physically, but she traced the energies, anyway. She smoothed out any interruptions as best she could. Satisfied at last, she pulled out. Hannah stared at her with questioning eyes. The instant she and Hannah backed away, the Fang stepped in, attaching restraints to the groggy Gryphon.

  Restraints and a collar, this is one important captive, Lianndra thought.

  The night stretched on as they moved to heal the Fang. Both the Healers shook with exhaustion by the time the last wound healed. Drake settled them in a tent with a heaping platter of stewed rodent and a container of fruit cider.

  “Eat well and get some sleep,” he said. “We leave with them before dawn.” He left before either Healer could ask questions.

  LIANNDRA THOUGHT ABOUT MICHAEL EVERY night before she slept. Occasionally, those thoughts led to restless dreams of what could have been, if their lives had proceeded as normal back on Earth.

  After Drake departed, Lianndra buried her head in her bedroll to block out the nocturnal animal sounds as well as those of the men settling in for the night. She still shook with exhaustion but remained too wired to sleep. To calm herself, she mentally traced the planes of Michael’s face, drawing an outline from memory, and framing it with a disorganized mop of dark hair. Fighting the panic of not remembering—it’s been so long—she would mentally draw the arch of his eyebrows, the line of a slightly crooked nose, the wide mouth, and the white-toothed smile. Last, she did the eyes, striking silver irises fringed with dark lashes.