Tevun-Krus #35 - Best of '16

Apex - A Short Story by @bloodsword

"At once, commander," the addressed figure in green replied before it began speaking into a communications device.

"I have living research subjects," Trahd shouted as the armored figures tried pushing it out the door. "You can't just throw them into a technocron stasis pod."

"Don't worry, professor," the commander said, motioning for the troopers to take it away before turning to look at the bank of maturation tanks. From it's position, it could see the shadowy shapes within the tanks begin to move on their own.

"The central government has plans for your research subjects!"

****

Chapter 1: Variant

"Hold still, Fletch," the medic snapped as the powerful young man twisted against the restraints holding him into the treatment chair. "I can't seal these claw tears with you moving around like that!" With gloved hands and sleeves already liberally painted in the young man's blood, she was desperately trying to close a series of long, raking gashes along his ribs.

"They ambushed us, Min," he snarled, trying to get back out of the chair. "Those damn cats ambushed us in the maze and cut us to pieces. I swear, I will make them pay!"

"Not leaking a centiliter of vital fluid per minute you won't," Min hissed, using all of her considerable strength to push Fletch back into the treatment chair. Then she was leaning in fast, cauterizer in hand, to burn the longest rip closed.

Feeling his flesh seal with a flare of heat, Fletch grit his teeth and forced his heart to slow and the adrenaline fueling his rage and need for revenge to subside. The dark haired medic was right: he needed to hold still or she wouldn't be able to seal the heavily bleeding gashes that had scored his ribs and nearly penetrated into his body cavity.

Then she was done. Leaning back, she used the back of a sleeve to brush her sweaty bangs out of her finely sculpted face.

"There," she announced. "That should hold long enough to get you into a proper resealer. Just don't go tangling with anyone until then or you'll pop a seam."

"Copy that," Fletch said with a nod. Hearing the implied promise in his voice, Min nodded in satisfaction before she reached out with a bloody hand and released the restraints.

Now significantly more subdued with his adrenaline levels back to normal, Fletch eased out of the chair and accepted a plain brown tunic from a medical quartermaster as they stepped by. Pulling it one, he turned back to Min, who was changing her gloves as two large male medics lifted an unconscious and badly beaten man next into the chair.

"Thank you," he said with not a little sincerity. She favored him with a quick smile in response before turning to join the other two in working on the newcomer.

Sucking in a quick cleansing breath, Fletch made his way out of the medical quarters, stepping past the impromptu morgue near the door as he did. There, lying under bloodied sheets, were the unmoving members of his team. They had all died out there in the maze, victims of the cats' ambush, leaving him as the sole survivor.

While that was aggravating, Fletch living through the viciousness of the ambush when they didn't was no accident. He was a variant with a high degree of survivability, a version of human called a 'psionic', capable of tapping the powers of his mind to do incredible things. As such, those abilities were something the fight masters had attempted to exploit time and time again.

"I will avenge you," he said quietly as he paused at the head of the first stretcher with its bloody and unmoving passenger to look grimly down at it. Then he was moving on.