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The Kitcoon
By L. J. Hachmeister[2]
“YOU’RE IN DANGER.”
Rex averted her gaze, hoping the old woman would lose interest in her. If she could, she’d have found another place to ride in the cargo hold of the star freighter, but the windowless ship was already jam-packed with other refugees, immigrants, animals, and illegal merchandise. Besides, being crammed between biohazardous drums was better than fighting for a place to stand in the congested, shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
“You shouldn’t be here, especially not alone.” The old woman, clinging to the black netting dividing a pile of luggage, looked Rex over with rheumy eyes. “How old are you?”
Nineteen; not a kid anymore. Clutching her rumbling and very empty stomach, Rex muttered, “Old enough.”
“I know those eyes,” the woman whispered. “Orange-fire, like the sunset. You must be from the southern tribes.”
Rex tensed. Seated on the grated floor, she brought her knees up to her chest and double-checked her surroundings. The drunk in the corner, slumped over a barrel, hadn’t noticed their conversation. Neither had the mother trying to feed her whimpering infant as the janky freighter rocked and shook in the turbulence of faster-than-light travel. Everyone had their own problems, their reason to be aboard an illegal transport bound for the sanctuary city of La Raja, on Neeis.
Old fears resurfaced: “You can’t escape this life.”
Heart racing, Rex tried to sound firm. “I’m human, like you,” she said just loud enough to be heard over the ticking engines. “Just modded.”
“Modded?”
“Modified,” she emphasized. A lie that had gotten her this far without too much scrutiny. Rex looked human enough, except for her eyes, but if someone looked underneath her jacket and pants, they’d see the marks—
Scars—
Of a monster.
“Mmmm,” the old woman replied, sounding unconvinced.
Frail and wrapped in patched robes, the elderly woman didn’t look like she’d amount to a threat, but Rex knew not to underestimate anybody. Especially someone suspecting her of being a telepath from Algar based solely on the color of her eyes.
The temptation to let her guard down and unleash her telepathic talent was there, but she couldn’t control the terrible thing inside her under threat. And in such a tight space, and with all these people—
She squeezed her eyes shut. Please, I don’t want to hurt anybody—
(—else.)
Rex let her breath out through gritted teeth. Get yourself together.
She thought about how the old woman sounded. Her Common, the universal language of the Starways, was decent, though heavily accented. She probably wasn’t from the Homeworlds, or the main planets that comprised the central Starways where most humans lived. But that didn’t mean much. Humans spread across the galaxy centuries ago and interbred with countless alien species. That’s what made it so hard to tell.
Maybe she’s like me, Rex thought. Humanish and poisoned by a telepathic lineage. Hunted by the Dominion military for her supernatural abilities. The enemy of the Starways.
A monster.
(Leech)—
“Shhh, sweet boy,” the old woman whispered as something wiggled beneath her clothing. Something small but feisty. A feline head popped out of the upper folds of her robe and let loose a pitiful meow. The skinny critter had a rectangular patch of hair missing at the top of his black-and-maroon striped head with a fresh pink scar running down the center, and big, saffron eyes that bade to give her affection.
The old woman gently pushed the thing back inside her robes. “Kio doesn’t like traveling.”
“What is it?”
“A kitcoon, native to La Raja. They’re considered a nuisance, like rats or pigeons from Old Earth. The Dominion use them in experiments because they’re so hardy. He doesn’t deserve that.”
Nothing deserves that, she wanted to scream. Even street vermin.
Rex eyed the old woman again, not hiding her suspicions. “So, you broke him out of a Dominion lab?”
The old woman’s forehead knotted. “I wasn’t alone…until now. It’s been a rough journey. I’m getting too old for this, you know.”
“You’re risking a lot for a, uh, pest.”
The woman frowned and patted the purring lump lying across her abdomen. “For Kio. He’s worth all the trouble.”
“No way,” she murmured as phantom pains lanced her stomach. Hunger pangs morphed into a roiling fire. Holding her abdomen, Rex couldn’t think of anything or anybody that would be worth that kind of a gamble. The Dominion’s military scorched worlds, used devastating weapons of mass destruction to control any threat, and with their objective set on imprisoning—
Eradicating—
—telepaths, Rex couldn’t imagine what they’d do to someone who, even on the smallest level, interfered with their plans.
Sweat dotting her brow, she dug her fingers into her stomach. Even through the clothing layers she could feel the scars burning all over again as needles punctured her skin, pumping poison directly into her organs, tearing her apart—
(“No, please, I don’t want to be a telepath. I’m sorry! Please, STOP—”)
The ship hit a bump. The other passengers cried out as they slammed into the walls, each other, as luggage, containers, and boxes tipped over. Rex braced herself between containers, heart racing, as the overhead lights flickered.
We hit something—?
Her senses screamed otherwise. Pulsating tension, stress, leaked in from beyond the bay doors, from down the corridor, where the cockpit was situated. Something’s wrong.
“They found us,” the old woman muttered, clinging to the netting with shaking arms as the engines whined. Passengers screamed as the ship rocked to port. People shoved and scrambled over each other, trying to get ahold of something anchored into the ship. “It’s too late…”
Rex barely heard the old woman as the ship lurched and the engines whined and grated. Cages and boxes tumbled from overhead storage, spilling critters of all sizes into the fray along with plumes of feathers and tufts of loose fur.
“What did we hit?” a passenger cried as the ship’s engines shut off. Distant thumps vibrated through the ship.
Nothing, Rex realized as smoke plumed from the vents, peppering the air with a metallic tinge. Those are explosives—
(—Boarding party.)
Scrambling to her feet, she took the old woman by the elbow.
“Slow down,” the woman cried as Rex dragged her through the tidal wave of people fighting to get to the cargo bay door. “Where are we going?”
White smoke made it hard to see, harder to breathe. Rex held the sleeve of her motocross jacket to her nose, struggling to push her way through the crowd and keep hold of the limping old woman.
“Stop! I can’t go that fast—”
Rex reared around and pointed at a pile of spilled luggage. “We have to hide.”
But as the old lady regarded the mess of clothes, packages, and debris, the cargo bay doors lifted. More smoke, and red emergency lights from the corridor, poured into the bay. Rex tugged on her elbow again, but the woman resisted, eyes as wide as saucers. “It’s too late. Take Kio. Protect each other.”
2
Author’s Note: A prequel short story in the world of