“Why did he leave everyone inside? And why didn't they leave?” I asked.
“They couldn't leave because he had them sealed inside,” Varnog said in a grim tone. “It was common practice for him to simply discard those who ceased being of any use to him. He considered the Creckels a failed experiment. From what little I read from him, they were not malleable enough for his purpose.”
Stran growled and pushed out his leathery chest with pride. He projected an image of Creckels standing on a pile of chains. Understanding his meaning took no effort this time. Creckels could never be chained, bound, or coerced into acting against their wills. Doom was the only one among us to fluently speak the Creckel’s image-based language. It wasn't surprising after thirty-five years of partnership between them. I still struggled to correctly interpret the imagery he sent my way. Thankfully, Stran fully understood four different spoken languages, including Universal, which was the common language used by every planet of the Coalition when addressing foreigners.
“How so?” Madeline asked, a little taken aback. “I’ve had a look at the control chips Khutu has used on some of his own people. Wouldn’t such an implant have forced the Creckels into doing his bidding?”
Varnog shook his head. “The Creckels are too smart a species to be controlled or brainwashed. Their base IQ actually puts most species to shame. But more importantly, they are able to deliberately shut down specific functions to resist such invasions. They are truly phenomenal creatures. They fought the implants to the point it either fried its circuits or killed them. Either way, they could not be subdued.”
This time, despite the sadness in his eyes, Stran once more lifted his chin with pride for his people.
“So, as with all experiments he can’t control, he destroys them,” Reklig said bitterly. As a Scelk, his species was also the result of experiments by the General. “But I’m confused as to why he didn’t use their DNA to create other chimeras.”
“He wanted to,” Varnog said with a smirk. “The Creckels, both modified and still untouched, rebelled and killed the Kryptid Soldiers inside the base. So, Khutu had them gas the underground base, bomb it, and seal its only access.”
I whistled through my teeth in disbelief. “That bastard really didn’t like losing.”
It was odd using such a term in reference to my sire. However, I felt nothing but hatred for him. I couldn’t help that he had been the sperm donor that resulted in my birth.
“He definitely didn’t. Also, be aware that we will have some excavation work to do in a fairly hostile environment,” Doom said. “As the Coalition fleet has been reporting, the access to or exit from many of the abandoned bases is restricted by hordes of roaming feral beasts. It was the easiest and cheapest way to keep his captives trapped without having to leave Soldiers behind to prevent them from fleeing in their absence.”
A short Q&A followed, after which we all moved out to prepare for our first light departure.
Being single with no prospect of a mate—at least not on Khepri—I was always ready for a mission. The one female to have ever touched my heart had recently found her true mate in Varnog. My hearts still ached that I hadn’t been able to claim her when she had been infatuated with me for so long. But my Dragon blood didn’t allow me to be with any woman other than my soulmate.
I had been so convinced Linette was the one and yet, my mating glands had never activated for her. It had disturbed me to long for her presence and for my hearts to swell with affection for her, but for my body to react with revulsion at the mere thought of sexually touching Linette or of being touched by her. With more of my brothers finding their mates, witnessing their happiness only further poked at the wound of my loneliness. I genuinely rejoiced for them, but the envy I felt shamed me. Thankfully, missions always helped distract me.
The twelve-day trip to the Moon of Melibos dragged on painfully. I never cared much for extended travel and idle time. While a part of me hoped for blood-curdling action at our destination, another part hoped there wouldn’t be, for Stran’s sake.
Thanks to Varnog telepathically sharing images of what he had plucked out of the General’s head, we were fully prepared for what lay ahead. As we began our descent towards the secret base, we stared in awe at the swarm of Zebiers roaming in the area.
The mostly flat terrain had a few rock outcroppings, which served as natural camouflage for the entrance of the base. However, in this instance, traces of visible bombing lingered in the unnatural damage and darkening of the rocks. Patches of grass were scattered around the plain, with little skullberry bushes here and there. It had been clever of the Kryptids to plant those bushes in the area as the Zebiers ate the normally lethal yellow fruits to refill their venom sacs.
Thanh, our pilot, broadcast a high-pitched sound to the surface that sent the Zebiers fleeing, the frequency painful to their sensitive ears, but impossible for us to hear. The dreadful creatures vaguely resembled a bulkier version of a velociraptor with longer front arms that they could use to run on all fours if they wished, although they also could walk and run on their hind legs. Their faces looked like it had been smashed into a wall, making the snout much shorter than it should have been. Large, globose eyes akin to those of a chameleon gave them a nearly 360-degree view of their surroundings. Their thick scales, similar to an alligator’s in appearance, but far thicker and more impenetrable, were oddly colorful, almost shimmering in soft, pastel colors.
Their long tail, seemingly unremarkable, could wrap around an enemy like a snake before toxic needles would jut out from it, inflicting close to a hundred punctures in the area constricted. The toxin could cause temporary paralysis on top of a rapidly spreading painful rash. But its deadliest tool was its tongue which it could launch like a harpoon over close to two meters before reeling in its target. The wretched thing behaved like a grappling hook, the pointy tip of the tongue opening up inside the flesh once it had harpooned its victim to prevent it from freeing itself.
It took a good ten minutes of flying around the area to drive the Zebiers far away to reduce the chances of them messing with us. Sitting in the Science Officer’s chair, Madeline dropped a series of sensors on a wide radius that would give us an early enough warning should the creatures creep back here. After performing a smooth landing, Thanh deactivated our cloaking shield and lowered the ramp of our vessel.
As the two crewmates with the rebirth ability, Doom and I were the only ones to step out of the ship and approach the pile of debris that surrounded the beaten down, reinforced door barring the access to the secret base. Kryptids had the bad habit of laying traps everywhere. Our surface and deep scans hadn’t revealed any active ones. However, a series of contraptions a short distance underground on a vast radius around the base led us to believe that if they ever awakened, things would become extremely unpleasant for us.
A part of me wished if anything should happen, it would do so now. Even as we descended the ramp, our Soulcatchers—Jessica and Martha—were preparing Shells for Doom and me. Should we die, our souls would seek refuge into our Soulcatchers’ psychic vessels until they could be transferred into a new Shell: an identical replica of our current body grown in an incubator.
“Well, that’s going to take a while,” I mumbled under my breath as I eyed the damage.