Aberrant

Chapter 8

A reminder of why his kind stayed to the shadows.

If their existence was ever confirmed publically, there'd be chaos.

The cat alterant's mask flickered as his HUD fed him data. "Images circulating the local data net indicate the docked ship is a 4-M Bullhead. Probably the vessel we observed twenty-four hours ago. Damage reports vary. Officially, the Bullhead has unspecified electrical, engine, and environmental problems—results of a failed predator attack."

Kaplan considered that unlikely. The local system was known for ore transport, not convenient commodities and ransom targets. However, a group of mercenaries might take on a foreign military vessel if a paying client was involved. It was a scenario that could also explain his downed vessel. But if it was the same hostile ship, why attack both his vessel and the Xykeree's?

The reasons that came to mind fed the pain building behind his eyes—a side effect of his age and being near multiple life forms. War was profitable, and anarchy was often motive enough for some.

"Stay on it." His team might be wounded and grounded, but their mission was still in effect, even if survival and extraction were now their primary goals. "Find out what happened to that ship. It might give us a clue as to why the Xykeree are in this area." The starsec wasn't a typical hunting ground for the aliens—too few unprotected species to prey on—and they had no known local trade agreements. "And keep looking for tracers and jammers."

"This place is where bad tech goes to die, Kap." A feline growl. "And there are plenty of criminals on this rock who'd have reasons to monitor and sabotage tech. The coms might always be this erratic."

Kaplan didn't take any reassurance from that fact. Nor did his e-specialist. Despite proof of the planet's corruption bleeding on the tunnel's floor, Fero's thoughts ran along the same path as his. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to blow their vessel out of the void. They needed definitive answers, not convenient explanations.

They also had more immediate problems than their unknown enemy.

Kaplan crouched beside one of the human addicts he'd knocked cold. Certain details spoke volumes about the planet's culture: thermally protective overshell; breather unit for respiration on the planet's surface; permanent i.v. port in the forearm. The weapon the man had drawn wasn't an enviable piece, but it said something that a man enslaved to chemical highs hadn't sold it.

Searching the unconscious men and the Vok's corpse, Kaplan located and disabled any coms, although he suspected trackers would be unlikely. The group weren't the types to want to be easily located and didn't look worth the effort for someone else to trace. However, they had gone to some trouble to display a common purple colour: the hair on one human; a facial tattoo on the other; and a painted jaw on the Vok. Gang affiliates.

The passage was part of some drug lord's territory.

"They get a signal out?" Kaplan rose, deactivating but not sheathing his blade.

Fero grunted. "You're not slow, Kap, banged up or not."

Kaplan brought a hand to his cracked rib. Another solid blow to the injury and painful would become life threatening—the reason the Vok was dead, not just down like its human associates.

"Make sure no reports of our presence reach the local data net." He glanced back as other dark-suited figures started to emerge from the airlock: three humans, another combat-bred cat alterant like Fero, and a second psi specialist, her mind shielded but familiar. His cousin Sia Samsun—Sun—a lithe shadow with hawk-gold eyes. All were injured to some degree. One dragged out the addict he'd taken down in the wastes.