Disclaimer:
Beauty
By Metis
Chapter One: Hunt
It is 2262, and our Houses, the many clans of Were, had long since allied as one House to traverse the stars for our now long established home, our colony of Lyra in Vega sector. We have always been a rich and powerful Kin, able to succeed and dominate where humans can only hope to survive. We claimed the rich and verdant planet of Lyra for ourselves, developed and mined where we deigned and destroyed any who dared to approach our space without permission. We held ourselves independent of Earth and its Alliance of colonies; the petty squabbles and politics of the humans did not concern the One Kin. Our centuries old, covert ties and influential wealth proved enough to keep Earth's eye off our welfare.
We send the message clearly, that no one trespasses near us without penalty of death. As it was on Earth when we once protected kingdoms and domains, now we do so with Lyra. We nurtured our ominous reputation of a mysterious, savage band of former Earthers. It is the way of our people that humankind cannot know of our true nature. Our ancient laws had since been modified to adapt to our new world, where it became necessary to have humans in our clan, but as for the rest who arrived uninvited....
We killed them.
I left our shuttle pad on foot, eager to feel the earth of our planet beneath my feet once again and feel the ever present wind that flows through our green valleys and abundant forest growth. Upon the scent of that wind I inhale every stimulating particle that tells me the identity of each living thing the wind has touched. This is the sensation of home.
Andrei Ivanov, clan elder and my father, made me the business woman to negotiate the House's dealings with the Outside. I find myself constantly off-colony now, speaking to other sentients or to our human contacts, keeping our interstellar businesses running smoothly. Though I play the face of our civilized front--of a people capable of significant success in commerce and trade--the games and small wars of business soon bore me. Ours is still a rough and unforgiving homeworld; we defend it zealously. I long to have my brother's job, of flying our starfury fighters in constant patrols of our space, engaging whoever has the lack of common sense or luck to enter our territory.
I long to hunt such prey.
In our starry sky, I see the flash of a strange shuttle, hurtling in reentry.
An intruder. I run for our communications tower to hear firsthand, what has happened in our space above.
Ganya, my brother, reports on a black shuttle's success in eluding his squadron. He details how the ship first appeared on our space perimeter, apparently pursued by another unidentified intruder who altered course once it had forced the black ship into our space. The damaged shuttle then managed to negotiate our minefield, even as it fled my brother's fighters. Ganya succeeded in damaging the shuttle further, forcing it to our surface, but the frustration and excitement was evident in his eager voice at having lost his prey.
In the far distance, I and those in the communications room catch the muffled scream and final thunder of a ship making its forced landing.
Within the hour I am at my family estate, changing rapidly out of the business attire I wear for off-colony into my 'hunting' clothes. I luxuriate in wearing leather once again.
In the next hour, I've joined scouts and other clan mates to covertly view the crash site from our position in the forest. The ship had landed roughly, but quite intact, in the vast, dry crater bed of an old meteor strike site. A small lake would gather in the center during the rains, but for the most part, the crater remained dusty and dry.
The dust did not obscure the black, now dull facade of the ship, nor its bold, imposing, greek lettered insignia.
The ship is Psi-Corps.
Our elders send affirmation to proceed as usual in the dispatchment of the intruders. We clan mates communicate how best to deal with prey who are obviously high level telepaths, for only Psi-Cops would have such a craft. We watch long into the night, waiting out the humans inside their dead ship. Many of the clan take to their wolf forms, their howls flowing about the surrounding forest in long distance songs....
The shuttle door hisses open when our sun reaches the treetops.
We had jammed their distress signal. We sent one communication to their ship and ignored any attempts to contact us. Our message was simply a warning: Leave your ship and you will be killed.
Many hapless intruders, wisely, choose surrender, but some are the type of warriors, needing to face us on our ground. Once they step on our soil we accept that unspoken challenge.
The first to leave the craft are three in black, carrying PPG rifles. The last to join them is one female in green--a dark green, verdant like our forests. Her hair is the color of sun.
She carries no weapon, yet takes their point position.
As they cross the flat plain of the crater, we observe their progress, but from a maintained distance. Silently we move ahead to keep out of range of telepathic senses. The fair-haired one stops at the edge of the forest and turns to hold a silent conversation with the short male in black. The male Psi-Cop ends the discussion with a curt gesture of his black gloved hand. He is their leader; he has made the decision to engage us.
The female once again turns to take their point position. I can feel the curiosity among my hidden clan mates. The silhouette of her body beneath the tight uniform reveals no concealed weaponry--not even a knife. Her shape is that of a female who should bear and rear children, not walk the recon position of a patrol of formidable Psi-Cops.
Formidable in their own sterile, civilized settlements, perhaps. Here, their mind powers will not avail them.
We allow them to move further into our forest. We watch their defensive pattern. They seem determined to head to our nearest settlement, a few kilometers east of their crash site. Sometimes they sense us, but we move too quickly for them to fix upon our thoughts and learn more. It is good to let them know we are here. It makes them smell of fear.
I watch the blonde female. She is the most wary, as she should be, her blue gray eyes scanning for our locations, her senses open for any hint of our presence. Her body radiates her awareness and readiness for whatever should happen. I admire her prepared state. I eagerly anticipate her worthiness as prey.
She stops the group once more; by her regard of the forest, I believe that she is now aware of our true numbers...and of our true intent. It is like watching her hackles rise. I lean forward in the brush, awaiting her next action.
This time she does not turn around to make eye contact with her leader. Whatever she has silently communicated to him makes the young, small man's pale face even whiter. Our brave little Napoleon has realized his folly.
They retreat back through where they had come from, the blonde female taking the rear. I wonder briefly how it is that she should be perceptive enough to know the true danger when the Psi-Cops she accompanies are reputed to be the strongest of human telepaths. Perhaps psychic power does not merit when the telepath lacks instinct.
She watches the patrol's back, keeping wary track of our positions. She has very good instincts.
Ecstatic howls suddenly carry through the air from afar. Our pack members who were left to watch the shuttle have taken care of the prey left behind.
Good. We will now deal with the rest.
I rise with my clan mates to rush silently and swiftly towards our prey. The hunt was on.
The woman's voice breaks the forest silence.
"GO!!" she orders her comrades, and they do not question, they run as fast as humans can when fear nips their heels. Perhaps all she had to do was send them the mental image of what was clearly happening behind her--of our human forms rising from the forest cover with killer intent in our eyes--of both human forms and wolf forms now running in fierce pursuit for them--for our prey. I watch her gold hair whip behind her as she flees, urging her comrades on with her speed. Joy pounds in my heart.
The telepaths operate like a pack; they move as one. Psychic communication makes it easy for them to adhere to improvised strategy. They execute one such move admirably.
The blonde human suddenly accelerates and disappears ahead--before we can assess why, two of her black uniformed comrades take position, PPG rifles primed. The thunderclap burst of their weapons take down some clan mates, but we press on. Even as members of my pack fall in agony I hear the distant howls of pain from clan mates who had circled ahead of us--yet there is no sound of distant PPG fire. The Psi-Cops before me shoot again then abandon their position, turning to flee once more.
When I have them once again in my sights, it is the fair-haired female who now takes their rear. I wonder briefly on what she was doing when the Psi-Cops had taken their temporary stand.
Their maneuver only bought them a little time. They broke upon a clear area of grass at the foot of an incline--above was where they had to climb to reach the crater and their shuttle craft. Had we guns we would have taken them down easily, but the Were disdain modern weaponry. We take down our prey with teeth and hands--with claw and muscle, a contest of bare will upon will. I favor knives for I like to mark my intended. Such a hungry blade is now in my hand, ready for the sun-haired female.
The telepaths try something surprising once again.
At the foot of the incline the woman in green stops, spinning about to meet us. Her comrades do not look back but climb upwards. It is stupid for her to take a stand here, when she would be advantaged in fighting us from above, but I quickly dismiss the thought, leaping forward with a snarl to be the first to reach her.
Somehow I am hit--a fallen log strikes me from no where--I fall heavily upon my back and momentarily see stars. As I struggle under my burden I can hear the howls and cries of my clan mates as they clash with the woman. I see two sail above me to land with bone-crushing impact to the ground. What is the female doing??
When I manage to roll the log off, I see her standing, black gloved hands out, as if to ward the pack off. Whatever she had done had been thoroughly effective; not one of my present pack is standing. A horrified human cry sounds above us and I see the alarm in her blue eyes--more of our pack had circled ahead. She turns to run up the incline, intent on saving the rest of her comrades. I leap to my feet and pursue her.
I lose sight of her for only a moment when she disappears over the incline's ridge. She shouts a name and then I hear the cut-off roar of one of the Were as he is silenced--possibly by the female. As I mount the ridge I see the blonde bending over the torn body of one Psi-Cop. The intense, expressive emotion in her wide eyes when she raises them to me is fascinating.
Another human scream slices the distant air--echoing among our trees. She takes swiftly to her feet once again and I pursue her.
When she reaches her second comrade, I still do not know what it is she does--her back and the trees obscure my ability to observe. All I know is that I hear the cries and crashes of my fellow clan mates as they fall inexplicably before her. Even as I am about to reach her standing form at last, I feel a force too fast for me to see, strike hard and hurl me against a tree. If it is a secret martial art it is exceptional. I shake my head once again to clear the stars.
She finds her second comrade torn apart as well. We hear the futile PPG fire and screams of her last companion--the little Napoleon. She closes her eyes a moment, gloved hands supporting her above the body of the dead Psi-Cop as she feels her failure. I push myself off the tree.
She takes one look at me and then springs to her feet once again.
It is now only she and I; I chase her merrily through our forest. I decide not to herd her, but allow her to head straight for her shuttle. We burst out of the green growth and our feet strikes the hard earth of the crater edge. The rhythmic pounding of our legs are as one.
I admire the movement of her shoulders, the supple power in her slim back. She has grace like our deer. I wish to take my deer down now. I growl deep in my chest and push off to tackle her.
In midair, I catch the slight turn of her golden head as she stares intently at me with one, light, blue gray eye.
I feel something grab my body and roughly throw my leap off to the side-- my outreaching hand misses my prey's hip by inches. I impact the hard earth, tumbling head over heels upon it. I stop my sweeping fall by digging my heels in.
Even as I sought to plant my feet, still skidding upon the surface of dry, cracked rock, I push myself up by my hands. Her wide eyes are upon me.
She is telekinetic.
She manipulated my very body with a thought.
She turns to run for the shuttle once again but I am faster--I close in at a wide loop--I know she can hear the pounding of my boots just as I can hear her own ragged, desperate breath--
She turns to me again, gold hair arcing a path in the air and leaving strands to touch her face as she focuses intense blue gray eyes upon me--
I feel the invisible thrust of her power like a hard blow across the face. As my head snaps back my body flips from the force, throwing me back three meters.
This time I am ready; I recover in midair.
My fierce grin as I land on my feet unsettles her--even at this distance she recognizes the white glint of my sharp incisors. My open hand has thrown a blade to mark her.
It clips her side and she cries out at feeling its searing bite; the slice in her clothing is stark in its cleanliness. Her blood stains it almost immediately. I go mad at the rich, fresh scent.
She is running again, her fear perfuming the air, and I set after her.
Only a few moments until the shuttle door and she is hard to catch, adrenaline lending power to her desperate flight for safety. I come close enough to touch her fleetingly on the back; I move close again to touch her knowingly on her hurt side. I cannot help a burst of laughter to hear her desperate sound of frustration at my play. She runs even harder.
We have already killed her companions who had remained with the craft. She can see their bodies as we had laid them outside. We have gutted the ship of its communications unit. We have jammed the door so that it would never be able to close, the evidence of our handiwork in the battered black surfaces of the metal frame. Another moment and she will recognize the complete futility of her desperate desire to escape from me.
Had she given up before now, I would have had no respect for her.
She leaps the three boarding steps for the gaping door and I am right behind her, but I suddenly stop short to grip the rails and relish the cornering of my prey. I do not enter. I will wait to see what she decides to do.
She has stopped as well, her back shuddering from her deep gasps as the shuttle's shadows play upon her. Even in the dimness of the powerless craft she will see what we have done to the cockpit. She will see the emptied locker compartments, the gear and supplies we had taken, essential to her survival. She holds her hurt side and heaves from her exertion, her fair head turning slowly from side to side.
She stands there, and I cannot resist; I reach into the shuttle entrance and run my light, exploratory touch upon the taut surface of her trembling back.
One slender gloved hand suddenly snaps up to strike a compartment panel above her head. I watch almost dumbly as a hidden PPG pistol falls into her hand. She whirls around and the metal nose is aimed at my face.
She pulls the trigger.
I barely manage to dive over the railing, feeling the thunderclap burst. I feel another shot explode dangerously close to my side as I leap from where I have landed by the craft door to roll for the safety of the underbelly. As I wait, tensely alert beneath the ship, I can hear the distant, mocking laughter of my clan mates who had witnessed my hasty retreat.
I beat a fist on the dry ground, momentarily angered to have been humiliated by a mere human.
I hear her try to close the shuttle door, struggle awhile at our sabotage, then give up.
I roll out from under the craft.
I walk deliberately before the dark entrance, at a safe enough distance where I know I can move fast enough to avoid her fire. My eyes scan the dark for her and finally I see the glint of gold hair and the wide eyed regard of intensely focused blue eyes. She leans heavily upon the far inner wall of the shuttle, cloaked in darkness with a hand pressed to her bleeding side. Her gun follows my every move.
I smile darkly. I show her my fingers, which had touched her side and had come away stained with her blood. I put the fingertips in my mouth and savor their taste in front of her. Turning away, I trot easily across the dry plain back to my waiting comrades.
"Resilient prey," one of my clan mates comment, easily resting the Psi-Corps issued PPG rifle within his hard arms.
"She could have killed you but did not," another observes.
"Not that kind of killer," I state, grinning with the still fresh taste of her in my mouth.
"You've laid claim upon her then," the first one questions.
"Yes, she is mine!" I snap. My clan mates nod without further comment. no one challenges my claims.
| Chapter 1: Hunt |
"Delta leader to delta wing, show's over. Let's collect the straggers and return to base." ( Signs and Portents )
