by Tom Dublin
"OK," he said, fishing a copper coin from his pocket. "First one to catch Mist wins this pirate treasure!"
He twitched his shoulder to send Mist into the air, and with a happy SKAWWW! she flew toward the far end of the field with the giggling children on her tail.
"You're really good with them," said Adina. "Do you have children of your own?"
"Me? No, I haven't been so blessed," replied Draven, flipping the coin in the air, then tucking it back into his pocket. "How about you? Is there a Mr. Choudhury and lots of little Choudhurys running around somewhere?"
Adina shook her head. "No, just me," she admitted, keeping her eyes on the ground. "I have an uncle who lives in a care home but, other than him I have no family at all."
Draven's expression became more serious. "That's a real shame," he said softly. "I think family is important—as are friends. They can be like family, if you let them."
"Yeah, I guess so," agreed Adina, turning to look at her Yollin friend. Tc'aarlat was trying in vain to referee an argument between two mothers who each claimed one of the young females was her daughter.
Jack stood watching the proceedings with his arms folded and laughed as Tc'aarlat turned helplessly from one angry mother to the other.
"Jack and Tc'aarlat are good pals," said Adina. "I don't know where I'd be without them."
Draven pulled a pleading face. "Don't tell me you don't have room for a new friend to join in the fun."
Adina’s cheeks beginning to redden again. "I wouldn't say that," she responded, finally meeting Draven's gaze.
Draven reached out to take Adina's hand and smiled. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that. And I promise that I'm a very good boy. I don't shed on the furniture or anything."
Adina looked confused. "You don't what?"
"Shed," repeated Draven. "My fur, I mean. You did realize I was a werewolf, didn't you?"
"What? Yes, of course." Adina laughed self-consciously and pulled her hand free of Draven's. She cast a glance at Jack, who was now involved in the row between the two furious women. "I'd better go. It looks as if the guys need some help over there."
"Yeah, sure." Draven pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'll…er... I'll wait here for the kids to get back."
Adina nodded slightly and hurried to join the ongoing disagreement.
Draven watched her go, trying to work out what he'd said wrong.
If he hadn't been so lost in his thoughts, he might have noticed a pair of sharp brown eyes watching him from the shadows beyond the open doorway of the ship.
Moon of Persha, Maximum Security Prison, Conjugal Rights Trailer
Trace Byrn slumped back against the thin mattress of the bed, naked. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat.
That had been incredible!
She turned to watch the heavily tattooed back of Vimor Malfic as it disappeared into the trailer's tiny bathroom, then looked up at the cracked paint on the ceiling as the thin wooden door slammed shut and water began to flow in the shower.
No one had ever made Trace feel like that before. Like she was being taken and consumed and enjoyed.
Their lovemaking had been passionate, animalistic, and raw—better than a hundred bubble baths at the same time.
She never wanted to feel any other way again.
Trace and Malfic had not exchanged more than a dozen words, most of them small talk, while the guard on duty had shown them to the door of the ancient trailer.
This was the venue made available to those inmates who had earned a period of privacy with their visitor. At first Trace had been a little self-conscious, knowing the guard remained right outside the door but once Malfic had begun to tear away her clothing all thought of propriety had been jettisoned.
Within minutes, the trailer had been rocking from side to side and she had been screaming at the top of her lungs. There was no way the guard could have any doubt what was happening inside.
She heard the shower stop running and took a deep breath, ready for a repeat performance. From what Malfic had told her in his letters, he had called in several favors to earn use of the conjugal rights trailer but their stay would be strictly limited.
They just had time to take a rocket ship to the stars once more.
The door opened and Malfic emerged. He was naked and wet, his hair tousled and skin glistening.
And, oh...the way he looked at her. Like she was the only thing he had ever wanted.
"You brought the computer chip?" he growled.
"Of course," Trace replied, lifting herself up on her elbows and patting a hand against her tummy. "I followed your instructions to the letter. But, I'll need to use the bathroom before you can get your hands on it."
Malfic's lips curled into a sneer beneath the thick black hair of his beard and mustache.
"I can't wait that long."
He lunged forward, hands reaching for her. Trace arched her back, pushing her forward, her nipples stiffening as she readied herself for round two.
But Malfic didn't touch her breasts. Instead he jabbed his fingertips hard against her stomach, his sharp fingernails digging into her soft, trembling flesh.
"Careful, honey!" she exclaimed. "I like it rough as much as the next girl, but that kinda hurts."
"Shut the fuck up!" spat Malfic, lifting one hand long enough to slap his newfound lover hard across the cheek.
Trace gasped as the shock of the blow sunk in. She brought up a hand to touch the stinging skin on her face, but that pain was quickly obscured by the searing agony farther down her body.
Malfic was using his fingers to tear her open.
Gripping handfuls of flesh, Vimor Malfic ripped open Trace Byrn's stomach. She screamed and fought to free herself from her attacker, the bed and trailer rocking as she struggled.
The guard outside would simply presume they were doing it again.
Blood sprayed from the tear in her flesh, coating the stained walls of the trailer with a fine red mist as Malfic dug deeper, working his fingers through the meat and gristle, pulling apart both organs and intestines as he rummaged around.
Trace felt her life force begin to seep away, the regret for the many opportunities and events she would never experience matching the physical pain of her disemboweling.
But worse than that was the shame. The knowledge that the beautiful things Vimor Malfic had said in his letters and poems were nothing more than a deception.
So many friends and family members had warned her not to stay in touch with “that criminal” or “that monster.” They had told her no good would come of a relationship with a convicted murderer; that it would end badly and she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
It had been the final mistake of her life.
Finally, Malfic located her stomach and tore it open as if it were a bag of chips. Inside, awash with acid, were the remnants of the sandwich and juice she had bought and consumed on the shuttle flight from the planet this morning and, of course, the tiny computer chip this had all been about.
The only thing he had ever truly wanted from her.
After wiping the blood and gore from the chip, Malfic held it up to the single light bulb and smiled. On the bed, the bloodied body of Trace twitched as she tried to speak, to question his actions, to ask why.
Her lips moved slowly, but no sound came out.
She could no longer speak.
Instead, she cried.
Without looking down at her again Malfic returned to the bathroom, the computer chip clutched inside his bloodied fist.
The last thing Trace Byrn ever heard was the sound of water running as the shower started again.
6
ICS Fortitude, Crew Quarters
Adina cupped her hands under the faucet of the tiny sink in her cabin and splashed the ice-cold water on her face.
She plucked a threadbare towel from the end of her bunk and used it to pat herself dry, then inhaled deeply. The towel had been one of the few items she
had been allowed to pack and take with her when she had left home to live with her Uncle Yousuf, and although after thousands of washes it no longer smelled of her parents' house, she still liked to imagine there was some lingering connection with the family she'd once had.
Carefully folding the towel and setting it aside, she opened the battered metal locker that served as both her closet and storage space and plucked a small bottle of pills from the top shelf.
Inside were dozens of tiny black tablets, each with a single yellow dot stamped on one side. She took the medication to dampen certain strands of her DNA.
The strands that gave her the ability to transform into a wolf.
Adina had taken the medication—first purchased illegally from backstreet drug dealers by her uncle—ever since her first-ever transformation had ended disastrously.
Unaware that she carried the same lupine gene as her distant female ancestors, she had suddenly transformed on her thirteenth birthday in front of her entire family.
When she came to later, she was smeared with blood and the dead body of her mother was on the floor beside her.
Her father had disowned her at her mom's funeral, forcing her to move in with Uncle Yousuf.
He had tried hard to help Adina cope with her abilities, but the young girl had wanted no part of it. She’d even gone so far as to threaten suicide if her uncle couldn't find a way to stop her from ever transforming again.
She had been taking the DNA dampeners ever since but recently had cause to transform specific parts of her body into their wolf form in order to save lives during the Shadow's first mission.
She had even fully transformed when threatened by a terrified crowd of people attempting to flee from a gravity storm.
Jack and Tc'aarlat had both offered words of comfort and had tried to convince her that she shouldn’t be ashamed of who she really was. But, it would take more than a few isolated incidents to undermine the belief that she had been responsible for her mother's death and the total destruction of her family.
So she continued to take the drug, which was now provided legally by pharmacists in the Federation thanks to her new benefactor, Nathan Lowell and his lovely wife.
She flipped the top off the pill bottle and shook out one of the tablets, then tossed it into her mouth and washed it down with some water from the sink.
As she tucked the medication bottle away there was a soft knock at the cabin door.
Adina closed the locker and checked her reflection in the mirror above the sink before opening the door.
Draven was standing outside.
"I think I owe you an apology," he told her immediately, "although I'll admit I have no idea what to apologize for."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Adina responded.
"Neither do I," admitted Draven. "I just know we were getting along really well and then a barrier came down. Did I say something wrong?"
"Of course not."
"Well, something happened," Draven insisted. "And whatever it was, I'm sorry for it."
Before Adina could comment, she and Draven were forced to grab the doorframe when the ship began to move.
"We're taking off," Adina told him. "And we're lucky Solo hasn't insisted that we—”
"This is Solo," the EI announced over the ship’s comm. "Would all personnel please report to the bridge, where safety belts and harnesses are available to ensure the welfare of crew members and guests alike."
Adina smiled wryly. "And there it is."
"Look," Draven took Adina's hand, "I don't know what went wrong, but I'd like to fix it. Jack's offered to drop me off at the closest Federation base station. By way of an apology, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me when we get there?"
Adina pulled her hand free. "I... I don't know."
"Lunch, then," offered Draven with a sparkle in his eye. "Elevenses, a light snack, a breath mint..."
Despite her anxiousness Adina laughed. "A drink," she countered. "I'll let you buy me a drink."
"It's a deal.” A beaming Draven held out his hand. Adina smiled as she shook it…and didn't pull away as quickly as the blond pilot had expected.
All of a sudden, the ship lurched hard to starboard and alarms shrieked through the speakers.
"Emergency! Emergency!" bellowed Solo. "A missile of unknown origin has locked onto the ICS Fortitude's heat signature."
Adina pushed past Draven and ran for the bridge. "Not this shit again!"
Moon of Persha, Maximum Security Prison, Security Zone
Vimor Malfic tightened his grip on the terrified guard's arm and pushed him toward the entrance to the visitors’ security area.
"Don't try anything stupid," he growled, jabbing the guard's own pistol into his ribs.
"N-no..." stammered the guard. "I won't."
Nerk Wassel had always enjoyed being the official assigned to watch over the prisoners who used the conjugal rights trailer.
While his colleagues moaned and complained when that particular duty was assigned to them, Wassel actually looked forward to it. The passion had well and truly evaporated from his marriage—if such a thing had ever really been there in the first place—and standing guard outside the rocking and juddering metal caravan while those inside grunted loudly and screamed in ecstasy was something of a turn-on.
In fact, there had been occasions when he'd been required to hastily fasten his trousers when the trailer door had opened unexpectedly.
As a result, he now enjoyed his duties farther around to the side of the courtyard in which the trailer was positioned. He'd heard of people who became excited at the prospect of being discovered mid-tug, but he knew it wouldn't be easy to find a new job if he was fired for indulging in a quick five-knuckle shuffle on the company's time.
He'd been very surprised when Vimor Malfic had requested use of the trailer during visiting hours and had been inclined to deny the request, like the majority of his fellow guards would have. That was until the guy in charge of checking the inmates' incoming mail had shown him the photos included in Malfic's sudden flurry of perfume-infused letters.
The floozy who was sending him the scantily-clad photographs—three of which he had snaffled for his own enjoyment before the letter was delivered to Malfic—was worth bending a few rules for.
Nerk Wassel had been pleasantly surprised when the woman had turned up for the visit. Usually these wannabe convict-fuckers sent prisoners pics from when they were much younger and more attractive, and frequently shots of other females entirely. By the time they showed up in person, the inmate in question was far too horny to complain about the deception. So long as there was a willing body to use and abuse, who cared if you had to close your eyes and imagine someone else?
Wassel swallowed hard when he saw the duty guards at the security station. His immediate boss Sergeant Tanx was in command.
If he somehow managed to get out of this fuck-up alive, Sergeant Tanx would almost certainly cut off the parts of his body he had been abusing when Malfic had burst of out the trailer and taken him by surprise.
Thankfully the criminal had allowed him to re-fasten his trousers before taking him hostage.
Briefly releasing his grip on Wassel's arm, Malfic stabbed the barrel of the gun into the guard's side a little harder, then produced some kind of silver chip—much like the one embedded in his own prison pass—and swiped it over the sensor on the door to the visitor lobby.
After the light on the lock turned green and the door unlocked with a clunk, Malfic took the guard's arm again. Then, raising his foot, he kicked open the door and dragged Wassel through it to the security zone with a furious snarl of rage.
"Every one of you donkey-fisters—get down on the ground now or this wank-happy shit-sucker gets a bullet through the heart!"
ICS Fortitude, Bridge
When Adina and Draven reached the bridge, Tc'aarlat was racing out.
"Tc'aarlat!" yelled Solo over the blaring alarms. "Get back in your seat and refa
sten your safety belt this minute!"
"Kiss my crusty Yollin ass!" he shouted as he dodged the two humans and continued running.
As Adina stepped onto the bridge, the ship swung sharply to port.
"There's another missile chasing us!"
Jack, clinging to the console in front of him, glanced over his shoulder. "And by all accounts, it's more powerful than the last one."
"Who's doing this?"
"Fuck knows!" replied Jack. "But whoever it is, they've taken quite a dislike to us. Solo, mute those Gott Verdammt alarms!"
Silence flooded the bridge.
"Or maybe they only dislike one of you," suggested Draven.
Adina's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Well, this could be an attack on the Shadows as a group, or perhaps one of you three have pissed off whoever's behind this to such an extent that they're willing to sacrifice innocent lives to get even."
"Well, I'm pretty sure I haven't annoyed anyone enough to warrant a price on my head," Jack told Draven as the ship suddenly dropped a few hundred meters. "Adina?"
"Not that I know of," Adina replied after she caught her balance. "Not unless my fifth-grade teacher Mrs. Swarbrick is still upset about the picture of her I drew on the girls' bathroom wall."
"That leaves you and Tc'aarlat," Jack pointed out.
"Can't be me," said Draven. "I wasn't on board when the first missile was launched, remember?"
"Speaking of Tc'aarlat, where was he heading?" asked Adina. "He shot out of here like a kid chasing an ice cream truck."
"No idea," replied Jack. "He just jumped up and—”
A new alarm began to sound and a small, red light began to flash on the main console.
"Shit, I do know where he is," spat Jack. "He's just activated the door to the Pegasus' hangar!"
By the time Adina and Draven reached the hangar Tc'aarlat was already sitting in the pilot's seat of the Pegasus II, impatiently running through the pre-flight checklist while the wide turntable it sat on spun the ship to face the rear doors.
Mist was motionless on his leather shoulderpad.
