The group came to another huge open cavern, and their flashlights flickered over a mess of strangely shaped equipment. Owen’s mind spun as he took in odd metal bulges and complex forms that looked like no machining he had seen before. Tall floodlights hung from the walls and ceiling, while thick power cables snaked up into the darkness. Banks of computers converged on a central plinth, atop which stood a row of hemispherical glass chambers, each much larger than a man.
To one side was an enclosed booth, and Rayker strode directly to it. The cave echoed with the tapping of a computer keyboard, and within moments a dull hum filled the air as floodlights flickered to life. The soldiers spread out, examining everything carefully.
Owen shivered. The hall had a lifeless and sterile feel that gave him the creeps. His gaze was drawn back to the chambers at the center of the room. They looked perfectly formed, and only a hairline crack hinted at their openings.
He wasn’t an engineer, but he didn’t like what he was seeing. Alien machinery? Advanced technology? What if he was looking at some type of weapons laboratory? He wasn’t interested in politics either, but everyone knew the Helvetic League was both in decline, and ruthless enough to do whatever it took to hold on to power. What if they had discovered something that would help them do that? It would certainly explain why they had sent soldiers.
Owen made a decision. Nothing that Rayker and her men wanted with this lab could be good for the colonists of Caldera. He had to get out and warn them.
He backed away as adrenaline flooded his veins, and he struggled to recall the path they had taken through the maze of tunnels.
“Owen—you’re not leaving yet, I hope?” Rayker called from amid the machinery.
He cursed. She had shown unnatural perception throughout the hike, hearing distant animals before they were even in sight.
“Uh… you know, I’m just a mountain guide,” he stammered. “All this… it’s not my area of expertise.”
Reed stepped forward, a machine gun now in his hands, as the other soldiers began withdrawing weapons from their backpacks. “The lady has requested that you stay,” he said in an icy voice.
Owen knew he couldn’t make it to the tunnels before they shot him. Ice ran down his spine, and his mind filled with the horror of the unknown. What would they do to him?
He put his hands up. Another soldier walked over and grabbed his coat.
“Do be gentle, Captain,” said Rayker. “Fortunately, the manual my benefactor provided appears to be accurate, and we need our test subject in one piece.”
Owen wanted to throw up. What manual? What kind of machine were they going to test on him? If they were armed, they had to be here for something dangerous that they would need to protect. Some kind of biological or chemical weapon?
He struggled against his captor’s firm grip, but his muscles felt weak and useless. There was no way out for him.
They threw Owen into one of the glass chambers and sealed the door. He yelled, and beat his fists against the smooth wall of his prison, but it didn’t crack or bulge. Tears ran down his cheeks as he cursed his stupidity. He should have listened to his instincts, and escaped while he had the chance. But his lust for exploration had led him too far.
The colonists would have no warning; they would assume he had fallen off a cliff in a storm.
Rayker emerged from the booth and approached the chamber. “If it’s any consolation, had you refused earlier, we would have taken you at gunpoint. We needed a test subject for the transformation process. No need to blame yourself, but your willingness to go along speaks to the open and curious nature of frontiersmen, and that is something I do admire.”
Owen banged a fist against the chamber. “What are you? You’re not human.”
She grinned and gestured to the soldiers to spread out around the chamber. “That’s not really your problem anymore.”
Owen collapsed to his knees, head in his hands. Whatever they were going to do to him, he could only hope it would be over quickly.
Rayker flicked a switch on a control panel, and a buzz filled the air as the system powered up. She smiled at Owen and punched a button.
There was a faint hiss. Gas poured into the confined space from vents in the floor and ceiling, accompanied by a sharp chemical scent. Owen tried to back away and felt like a fool when his back hit the glass wall of the chamber. The world spun around him as he began to cough. Pain lanced through his belly, and the coughing turned to retching. He dropped to his knees and vomited blood.
Agony shot across his body like lightning as bony spikes broke out from his back with wet cracking sounds. Skin tore apart as his throat let loose a gurgling scream. His arms lengthened into claws, and his legs grew longer and more muscular. Bloody spines and sharp fins erupted along his limbs, while a chitinous armor hardened over his flesh. His torso bulged and expanded, and when he tried to vomit the acid that flooded his guts, his voice gave out only a dry shriek.
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Owen clutched his head and lay still for some time. He was almost drunk with the pain; couldn’t feel, or see, or remember a thing. Where was he? What was he doing here? Why couldn’t he focus?
The electric shocks jolting his body eased, though blood was still boiling in his veins. As the heat cooled, he felt tension throughout his muscles. They felt coiled, ready to explode into motion with incredible strength.
He was almost sick with rage, as though it were forcing its way up his throat until he would spew vile black poison onto the floor. But the floor of what? Reaching out a claw, Owen felt it brush against a smooth wall.
A dim flash of memory told him he had feared the glass, but now he hated it. He had to destroy it, and he raised his arm, but another image flashed into his mind—a figure, and a voice.
It was not the glass he hated, but what was beyond it.
Owen curled his claws into fists and sat up. Beneath him was a ragged pile of blood-stained material. What did that mean?
Clouds of vapor cleared from the chamber, revealing an approaching woman. Through the fog of confusion, a beam of bright clarity flashed for an instant. He hated her more than anything. He was going to kill her.
Another man grabbed her, but she brushed him away as she approached closer. Owen realized she was not afraid. She would let him out.
The woman walked right up to the door. Around the hall, more men aimed guns at him. They were all so small, and he sensed they were fragile too, while he felt so strong. He would easily kill them. All he had to do was wait.
The woman’s hand was steady as she reached for the lock. The door swung open, and she backed away, eyes fixed on Owen.
He emerged, sniffing the air, and grunting with suspicion. He felt light, as though he could jump over mountains. His arms moved so freely, and he felt a rush of energy.
The woman stepped closer; her eyes were wide with curiosity. “Can you hear me?” she asked.
Owen stared at her as she reached out to touch his arm. Why did he hate her so much? Did it matter? Blood hammered in his ears at the thought of destruction. It would feel so good, but why was he still waiting? Why couldn’t he think?
She spoke again. “Do you remember anything?”
Rayker. The name flashed through Owen’s mind, washing away the uncertainty. He screamed, swung his arm round, and struck her, sending her body flying into a row of cabinets. The hall erupted with gunfire, but the soldier’s bullets bounced harmlessly off his hide. He leaped forward, grabbed a man in both hands, and tore his legs from his torso with a wet ripping noise. Pure joy flooded through his veins. He was so fast, and powerful, like a god. He turned, saw another man frozen in fear, and skewered him with his claws.
The others hid amongst the machinery, taking potshots as he destroyed everything in his path. Pain blossomed in his shoulder, and black blood sprayed across the floor. Owen didn’t care; could barely feel the wound. Nothing was going to stop his limitless rage.
On the other side of the lab, a man ducked behind a machine. Owen covered the twenty yards that separated them in a few powerful strides and crushed the metal structure in his grip like a tin can.
His prey darted from cover, but Owen tossed a scrap of steel that struck him in the temple, dropping him to the floor. The man’s leg twitched, and Owen closed in for the kill.
Another flash of memory threw up a name—Reed. Owen nearly had his hands on his enemy when something punched him hard in the chest, stopping him in his tracks. He looked down at a long needle of bone poking through the armor below his shoulder.
Numbness slowly consumed his arm. Owen tried to move the limb, but it flopped uselessly, while rivulets of his blood poured onto the floor. He looked around to see the woman a dozen yards away, standing in the open, one arm outstretched, and mad determination on her face. The smooth white skin of her forearm was torn open, revealing a fleshy cavity.
She raised her other arm.
Owen tried to turn and lunge towards her, but the stings of more bullet wounds were taking their toll. His movements had become slow and awkward, and his endless reserve of strength had drained to nothing. He felt tired and weak, stumbling forward with a roar of pain as he fell to the floor.
The world became cold, while the rage that had consumed him was washing away with his blood. He raised his head to see the tip of a second spike rip through the flesh of Rayker’s arm. She drew her fingers back and aimed carefully. Owen screamed in defiance, but the spike shot forward and everything went black.
Rayker stared at the protruding tip of the bone needle she had fired into the monster’s skull. Her chest rose and fell in ragged pants, while fire burned in her eyes. Eventually, she regained her composure and glanced at her arms, watching as the skin curled back into place. Torn strips of flesh merged, cells stitching themselves together to cover the small cavities that housed her weapons. Even under stress, her body would regenerate new spikes within hours. One of the more enjoyable gifts her benefactor had lavished on her.
She turned to see soldiers emerging from the destruction that covered the lab. Several were badly wounded, while others lay in pieces on the floor. She certainly couldn’t say the test had been unsuccessful. Owen had seemed like the obedient type, but apparently impetuosity could lie hidden beneath the surface, like an alligator waiting for prey.
When Rayker checked the unconscious Captain Reed, she found he was still breathing, and her expression softened. He was a good officer, and loyal. The years of work ahead of them would need his leadership.
He regained consciousness and tried to haul himself to his feet. “Sergeant Venta?” he called, but received only morose looks from his surviving men.
“Dead, I’m afraid,” Rayker said, “along with three others. And our unfortunately powerful test subject.”
Reed stumbled as he tried to move, but she grabbed his arm and helped steady him as he recovered his balance.
“I’ll unpack the medical kits,” he said, and turned to Rayker, his eyes glancing at the bloodstains on her arms. “Are you injured, ma’am?”
“No,” she said. “But you have a concussion, Captain, and I insist you rest for a moment. I will take care of the wounded.”
Reed checked his body. “I’m not hurt. Just let me gather my senses.” His brow furrowed. “Owen… was he conscious after the transformation? What happened?”
Rayker sighed. “I believe the thing recognized me, and it waited until it got out of the chamber to make a move. It must have retained something of Owen’s memories and intelligence.”
Reed nodded. “I thought that was the goal? A killing machine that can think?”
“Yes, but intelligence without obedience… well, you can see the consequences. Building an army isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. Once we’ve cleaned up this mess, we will have a lot of work to do.”
“Will we be needing to find more… test subjects?”
“Just the local wildlife, for now. There will no doubt be some trial and error until we understand the transformation process better. It looks like are going to be here a while.”
“Yes, ma’am.”