Vitalis Omnibus (48 page)

Sasha, Klous’es mate, dragged the matriarchal concept kicking and screaming backwards with her devotion to Klous. She’d follow him into the spitter mound if he asked her to, taking their son Kelsey with her to the slaughter.

The thought of the spitters drew Fiona up short. She’d been daydreaming—a dangerous pastime in the safest of times. She scowled and moved ahead, slipping silently through a thicket of jungle ferns that marked the edge of the jungle and the beginning of the hills. She emerged into a small clearing a moment later. Fiona dropped to one knee, her bow held horizontal with the arrow in place. She stared around, seeking out what shapes she could in the moonless landscape. Nothing looked out of place or more threatening than usual, though each shadowed depression in the hills or dark spot beneath trees promised to hold dozens of flesh eating animals.

She glanced down at last, seeking to pick up the hybrid spitter’s trail. Her eyes widened when she found the ground smooth and free of any tracks. It was soft and covered in thick grasses so close to the jungle, an easy place for a skilled tracker. She didn’t have Kira’s skill at tracking, but other than the huntress only Tarn was rumored to be better than she was. If the spitter was no longer ahead of her, that left only one place it could be.

Fiona lurched to her feet and spun around. Her timing was almost quick enough. The humanoid spitter swung at her, its arm moving so quickly in the darkness it was barely even a blur. She blocked the strike with her bow, but it was a onetime maneuver. The weapon was ripped from her grasp and sent flying.

Fiona backed away, shaking her tingling left hand while she pulled her spear around and slipped it over her head. The spitter pressed on, mandibles wide to let her see human-like lips open. Its teeth were sharp and vicious, but what made her shiver was the warbling cry that came from its mouth.

She backed away faster, taking in the creature and staying low so she could leap to the side if it tried to spit at her. It was taller than she was and it had been ‘born’ only half a day before. Dark shapes on its back rose up like wings, then folded in on its back. They weren’t wings, she remembered, but a semblance of the shell the four legged spitters possessed. Its arms and legs looked all too human, but a thick dark carapace covered its chest. Below its chest, she noted, it also resembled a human. In particular, a very mature human male. Mature and alarmingly well endowed.

It kept making noises as it walked after her. The tone changed, almost as though it was trying to talk to her. Was it trying to communicate? She shook the thought aside. It didn’t matter, it was as close to evil as anything they’d found on Vitalis. It existed to hunt, kill, and propagate its species. To see just how intelligent it was Fiona took a risk and feinted a lunge forward. The humanoid jerked back, swiping both arms in front of it defensively.

“Smart motherfucker, aren’t you?” Fiona muttered. She retreated again, putting more distance between them. From what she’d seen it was faster and probably stronger than she was, running was out of the question and going head to head against it had long odds, given the intelligence it showed. Humans could be dumb as rocks but it seemed human DNA had a lot more potential than people gave it credit for.

What she had that the hybrid didn’t was weapons. Her bow was gone but she still had her spear and, she realized, her arrows. She reached over her shoulder to her quiver and pulled out one of the arrows. It was her off hand but Kira had drilled her repeatedly on using both hands until it seemed almost natural to her. Throwing an arrow, on the other hand, wasn’t her idea of a dangerous attack. Jeremy had been experimenting with some natural poisons they could coat their weapons with but so far nothing lasted long enough to be worth it.

She threw the arrow underhand, hoping the low trajectory and lack of daylight would confuse it. The creature failed to protect against the arrow, no doubt expecting it to be another feint. It hit it low in the abdomen, missing what Fiona hoped would have been a very sensitive region by only a few inches.

It screamed at her and grabbed the arrow stuck in its flesh. The hybrid yanked it free and squeezed, snapping the shaft in half, then threw it to the ground. Fiona took the distraction and lunged at the creature, trying to jam her spear into its chest. Strong as she was, it turned just enough so that the sharpened wooden tip glanced off the rough chest plate. The force of the strike drove it back two steps.

Fiona grunted as a dark shadow smashed into her face and knocked her head to the side. She scrambled, rolling to her hands and knees and trying to put distance between herself and the creature that had knocked her senseless with a single strike. The entire side of her face tingled and felt hot. Blood was splattered on her arm and hand and it continued to fall from her chin in a stream.

Cruel claws grabbed her leg just below her waist. The talons of the hybrid’s hand dug into her flesh as it tried to yank her back. Fiona pulled against it. She clenched her teeth and discovered that something else was wrong. The blow seemed to have dislocated or possibly even broken her jaw. The fresh pain brought enough focus back to her to realize she still held her spear in her hand. The same hand that was coated in her own blood.

Fiona reared up and twisted, swinging the spear in a backhanded strike that caught her assailant in the side of the head with a resounding crack. It stumbled back, stunned by the blow. The Marine’s spear was broken by the impact but she gained a few precious seconds.

Fiona lurched to her feet, throwing the broken shaft of the spear to add insult to injury. She stumbled away, running crooked at first then gaining her balance. She climbed up the hill, breathing hard and wondering how she could escape in the open terrain of the hills. Even making it to the nearest cache of weapons was at least a ten minute run, something she knew the spitter would never let her do. An arrow in the eye or mouth? She had a better chance of getting the beast to agree to a game of three dimensional chess.

A great weight slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground. She felt fetid breath and felt the rough texture of the short black hairs that emerged from its hardened exoskeleton. It babbled at her again, its tone shrill and unmistakable. It was pissed off. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder that made her gasp. It’s hands were holding her arms, that left only its mouth. She’d been bitten.

Rather than tear out a chunk of flesh and leave her to bleed out, the teeth retracted and the weight lightened on her back. Fiona pushed back with her arms, then shifted and felt the hot flesh of its abdomen and maleness against her back and buttocks. She gasped again, terrified at the fear of such contact. She jerked against it, twisting to drive her elbow into it and knocking the hybrid off to the side. She rolled and lashed out with her leg, her foot glancing off its thigh and catching it in the most offensive part of its anatomy.

The spitter’s mouth gaped open and she heard air rush through it. It howled a moment later, after its hands grasped to protect itself. Fiona rolled away and sprang to her feet. For the first time in months she regretted the lack of clothing. She felt vulnerable after the brief and all-too-intimate contact. Vulnerable and dirty. She turned back to the spitter, which was curling up to protect itself, and spat on it. One of its arms reached for her but it made no move to get up.

Fiona jumped back, stumbling as she did so. She felt hot and off balance. She spun away, trying to think which direction the nearest weapons cache was at. It needed to die but even with it in pain she knew she needed more than her hands and feet to kill it. She started to run but her right leg wasn’t moving quickly enough. She twisted, struggling to stay upright, and fell up the side of small hill. She picked herself up but her legs were too sluggish to obey.

The spitter was back on its feet and approaching, though one hand still covered its genitals. The hybrid moved with a limp.

Each breath she took was pained. Her body felt like it was on fire and it wasn’t responding to her. She fell back, her arms slipping as her strength left her. It hadn’t spit on her, but it had bitten her.

It stood above her and stared down, dropping its hands to its side. She stared up, unable to move or do more than moan in defiance. Why hadn’t it killed her? Was she to be taken back and serve as a host? She struggled inside her body. Her arm twitched then lay still. Her eyes were burning now. They were dry and on fire. She tried to blink and, with a herculean effort she managed to close her eyelids. A moment later the spitter picked her up roughly, pulling her back from the brink of a great blackness. She couldn’t open her eyes, they felt like they weren’t even attached to her body anymore.

Terrified but unable to do anything, the venom worked through her until it stole even her mind from her.

Chapter 10

“You’re not ready for this!” Jess was persistent.

“None of us is ready for the alternative,” Elsa said. She shrugged and brushed her hand over her stitches. They itched and she was aching to take them out as soon as she got out of Jess’s line of sight. “Besides, I feel fine. Well, I’m really hungry, but that’s about it.”

The medic scowled. “I can’t stop you, but please be careful.”

“Careful’s my middle name!”

Jess’s eyes narrowed more, if possible. “No, your name is Elsadora How-bad-can-I-fuck-myself-up-this-time Quinn!”

Tarn coughed out a laugh and turned away, hand covering his mouth. He turned back, a grin slowly fading. “I’m the first one to pay admission for a good old fashioned hair pulling and clothes ripping cat fight, but this ain’t the time. Sorry Doc, but this Marine’s coming with me.”

Jess scowled again and turned away. Elsa watched her then yelped in surprise when the medic turned back and gave her a brief but firm hug. Jess turned away and walked stiffly away without a word after that.

“That make sense to you?” Tarn asked.

Elsa sighed. “FIST team three is her responsibility. Mine too, but keeping my boys and girls alive is secondary to the success of the mission. For Sergeant Robinson her priority is keeping us alive.”

“You ain’t FIST team three anymore,” Tarn pointed out.

Elsa nodded. “We know that, but old habits die hard. Besides, Jess and I have known each other a long time. We’re close.”

Tarn grunted. He’d had enough of trying to understand the inner workings of the female gender. “Let’s go, time’s wasting.”

Elsa’s stomach grumbled. She glanced at it. “My stomach disagrees, but let’s go. Won’t be the first time I’ve been hungry.”

“Might be the last,” Tarn said. He turned and peered up until he saw a woman walking along a bridge between trees holding the hand of a small child. “Lizzie! Can you toss down a couple of rockfruits?”

“What’s a rockfruit?” Elsa asked. Above them Lizzie waved at him and kept walking to the next platform. Once there she appeared near the railing and held up two melon sized spheres, each the color of slate.

“Just wait,” Tarn said, holding out his arms. Lizzie dropped one of the fruits to him, then a moment later the other. Tarn held one out to Elsa then started walking to the stream to the east.

Elsa studied the fruit. It looked and felt like a stone but the weight was wrong. “What do I do with this?”

“Hold on to it,” Tarn said. He kept going, not stopping until they reached the stream. Once there he found a real rock and smashed his rockfruit against it carefully. The cracking noise it made was dull but unmistakably organic.

Tarn pulled the two halves apart and showed them to Elsa. Inside was a colorful mixture of green and yellow pulp. At the center of one half of the fruit was a white mass with tendrils stretching out from it into the pulp. “The white thing is the roots of a new tree, but they ain’t matured yet. Least that’s what Jeremy said. That part tastes the best, but the whole thing’s pretty good.”

Tarn dug the center out with his fingers and popped it in his mouth to prove his point. Elsa stared at it doubtfully, then shrugged. Less than a week ago she’d been eating half-cooked bugs to survive. She moved over to another rock and had to crack her fruit against it twice to figure out how hard she needed to hit it to open it. Once she had it open she dug into it and sampled the juicy fruit.

It tasted incredible. Her mouth felt like it was alive with colors and sensations. She couldn’t describe the flavor if her life depended on it, but she could say it was a mixture of sweet and bitter and altogether wonderful. When she looked up from the suddenly empty half shells in front of her Tarn was chuckling.

“Hungry?” He asked.

She nodded, then added, “Good! Everything’s good here. Even the bugs I ate after I crashed.”

Tarn nodded. “Coral said she thought it had something to do with appreciation. You know, we appreciate it more because we’re working hard for it.”

Elsa frowned. She’d worked her ass off for the right to eat something in the past and it was nothing like this. “I don’t know about that, I think it’s like everything else here. This place is deadly and unforgiving, but once you get past that the rewards are incredible.”

Tarn raised an eyebrow. “You already spent too much time with Kira. Next you’ll be babbling about the spirit of Vitalis.”

Elsa grinned, she’d had the same concerns about Kira and she’d only spent a little bit of time with her. “Hey, it beats MREs!”