Page 4 of Hooded

Sometimes tiny is mighty too. On their planet, vidra are known as loyal pets who can perform a number of incredible tasks, including pulling or even carrying things many, many times their size. I never ask him to do anything, but somehow he knows.

The passage winds its way slowly up an incline. I keep checking on Beebie, but he’s still dragging the mark, its head occasionally bouncing against a rock, but I guess I’ll have to deal with all of that later, once I have him on my ship and we’ve made it off Trefa.

A place I am NEVER coming back to.

The passage ends. I glare at the comm, but then, as I take a step forward to examine the wall ahead, it pops, light streaming in as it slides to one side.

I am not going to question anything at this stage if I’ve made it out of the dome. I punch in my coordinates and call up the ground transport.

Above me, the dome burns, and if that isn’t a sign to leave, I don’t know what is.

KLYNN

I don’t hurt. At all. I am the exact opposite of hurt. But it’s not due to any narcotics, as far as I can tell. They always leave me with the taste like I’ve slept with Blayn’s foot in my mouth (don’t ask me how I know), and my taste buds are not unhappy.

Also, wherever I am, it smells clean. I don’t like it at all. A bright light sears at my eyelids, and I give in, opening them to find I’m in a cell, probably not large enough to spread my wings.

But it is large enough I can launch myself at the door, the dark lines running around the edges meaning I know exactly where to put the pressure.

Doors have never been much of a problem for me. I slam into it time and again as the metal slowly buckles. I will not end up at the mercy of the Bogarok or the creature they sent to take me.

I will not live with their mistake, and mine. I was prepared to die and I still am. But I die in battle, not on some specimen slab.

“Stop!” A distorted voice echoes around the cell. “Please stop,” it continues.

Please?

The use of the word does cause me to halt my onslaught.

For about half a nova-second. Then I’m back at it. A few more good blows and I’m sure I’ll be through. I don’t have the patience to wait out the time needed for my usual exit from locked places.

“Don’t make me use the jets.” The voice comes again.

I want to hate it, but I don’t. I want to…do what it says…but I don’t. Instead my body continues.

And I’m knocked off my feet by a jet of water. It pushes me to the back of the cell and spins me around. Underneath, the water runs a sludgy gray.

I guess I got quite a lot of Bogarok on me. Now they can have it back.

The jet stops, and I’m back on my feet, back at the door as it crumples outwards. Just one more hit and it will…

This time the jet which hits me is even stronger. It pins me against the wall where I can see the door and I can see the jet itself, but I can’t move.

“I don’t want to do this,” the voice says.

To my left, there’s a slow grinding noise, and I watch, blinking water from my eyes, as the door reforms until it returns to its previous shape.

I throw my head back and laugh.

“I can do this all nova-day and night,” I roar at my captors. “I can do it until my body gives out, until I’m nothing but blood and sinew. Are you ready?”

The jet stops as suddenly as it started, and I’m not ready for it, slumping to my knees before scrambling back onto my feet.

“Just remember,” the voice says, “you made me do this.”

“Bring it,” I snarl into the air.

And the cell fills with foam, right up to my neck.

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