Max

  It was her unswerving determination that had first caught the were-fox’ eye and made Max pay attention to her. Being small in stature and female made her ability to survive in a world of massive male creatures impressive. Yet she more than survived, she inspired, drove them to become greater than they were. He knew that Micha had taken the time to learn what each member of her team was capable of and selected their tasks accordingly. What’s more she encouraged them to find out what they loved to do; whereas most made you how they wanted you.

  Max took up his position with Mitah at Micha’s left flank, prepared to move out. To the right of her, he could see the wolf brothers taking the same position and Holten was sticking to the center of their formation. Scouting ahead would be Ni’yell and Rennick would follow up with the rear flank. Aware of their team leader, there was no need for hesitation when she started forward; they moved in unison. They all knew where she wanted them. Touching the side of his helmet he engaged the link with the team leader’s terrain map and began watching for potential danger zones; marking their locations as he spotted several dead zones. He knew that she preferred to expect the worst and be surprised by the best.

  Max had been among the strongest were-foxes in his tribe before pirates had descended on his planet and taken them as prisoners. The pirates had immediately stripped their planet of males and females alike. This had not insulted Max, as a warrior he understood the spoils of war and the consequences of losing. What had insulted him was the degradation that had followed. Most of his people had been forced to assume submissive positions and treated like pets or worse.

  When Max had first met Micha, he had once again been sold because he had been unwilling to be submissive while he was being raped. Having once again fought back, Max had found himself sold to some warrior with a penchant for were-shifter flesh. According to his old master, this was one owner Max would not be able to win against. Believing he could handle anything he said nothing.

  The day that he met his new master, Max knew that he would not survive. The man before him was twice his size and had all the signs of a competent warrior; something that Max no longer was. Head held high he said nothing. Seeing the look in his new owner's eyes, he knew that he would die before letting that man touch him. When fight or flight kicked in, Max did the unexpected and fled.

  That he had managed to escape his master’s tent was by sheer luck. Ducking into what he thought was an empty tent he found himself face to face with a petite woman with pale skin and flames hanging wetly about her face. Barely wrapped in a towel, she simply stood still and watched him. Naked himself and too proud to hide, he readied to run if she called out.

  The roar of his new master caused him to flinch. Readying to bolt, he felt the small hand of the woman on his arm. She mimicked silence and moved passed him. Securing her towel she headed for the exit. She never looked back; she simply left the tent. Voices too low to hear Max had not been able to gauge the conversation. Crouching he waited.

  When she returned, she reached for her gear and dressed, never once looking in his direction. “Stay here,” she murmured. “Ni’yell has gone to fetch you some clothes. When he returns, he will stay until I return,” She looked at him then. “No one deserves to be treated like a whore simply because someone else has the money.” With that, she had left. On her return, she had smiled wistfully and handed him a bedroll.

  He never did find out what she had done to free him and had never asked.

  The next day he found himself geared up with her and the others. He smiled at the memory of that first mission. It still amazed him that they had succeeded. It had been his first mission with Micha and the first raid as a warrior in more years than he wanted to admit to and he had been certain it would be his last. As a warrior, he had been embarrassed at his inability to do the simplest tasks. She never got angry and never gave up. Even at the worst, when the mission went to shit, she stuck with him.

  With some minor scrapes, a lot of extra work, and some newly forged teamwork they succeeded in stopping the rogue slaver and managed to bring him in alive. After which he had begun his training with her team and been with her for the last two years. She had given him back his dignity, and he had sworn that he would protect her with his life.

  Mitah

  Sensitive to his partner’s movements the giant Renshaw adjusted his lumbering pace accordingly. Max, a were-fox, wore his thoughts in the open. It made knowing where his headspace was and how to pilot around his sensitive friend less of a minefield. At home in the dense brush, Max was almost too relaxed. Mitah, on the other hand, hated being caught in wooded or dense brush.

  Unique to a one K-star sun with almost thirty-one planets of which only one was habitable and gravity that never failed to break the ill prepared, the Renshaw were accustomed to a mostly desert planet. Renshaw adapted to the harsh environment and the denser gravity; making them strong and unmoveable with a tough hide. Their bodies developed natural armour plating in the chest, forearms, thighs and the front of the legs. Micha once referred to the Renshaw as an all-terrain vehicle.

  Mitah winced as he pushed and snapped a branch off. Wonderful, the gentle giant thought. Looking about, he grimaced. There were too many places that an enemy could hide. It made his leathery hide itchy. Being massive in size and built to withstand most things, Mitah preferred the secure clarity of piloting. It required deft handling and delicate balance. It came with its own set of skills and used its own memory systems to engage reflexes and the mind. Adjusting to the noises of his teammates around him, he continued to plod along as he scouted the area as best he could. Ducking under tree limbs well above his teammates, Mitah wondered how Ni'yell was handling all the... plantlife?

  Moving with great care he kept up.

  It always impressed people how quickly Mitah could move with so little noise. Yet until he had met Micha he had been classified as a failure. It baffled people that he lacked the natural skills of a Renshaw. Mitah had failed to pass his training exercises time again, had grown accustomed to the abuse that always followed. The routine offered its own complaisant comfort.

  He had seen the tiny redhead about the compound, had seen the gentle hand, and the quick temper at such abuse. He secretly wished she would somehow save him too; would lay to sore to be hungry and dream about being rescued. The day they finally met he had dropped to his knees, waiting for the beating he knew was coming.

  The first blow connected solidly with his neck and shoulder causing him to choke, leaving him wanting to throw up; unable to catch his breath and his right ear ringing loudly like a cloud of angry wasps. Raising his arms in an attempt to block the next attack, Mitah heard the thump of it connecting with flesh but felt no further pain. Opening his eyes he saw two images of a tiny woman before him, the wild flames atop her head bouncing in the gentle breeze. Micha caught the massive bar which had nailed him seconds earlier, turned her head slightly to look at Mitah. Her mouth was moving, but he could not hear her past the ringing in his ears.

  Mitah gave his head a shake, trying to clear his hearing and the world spun on its axis. As his hearing began to clear he caught the sounds of a whiskey and smoke voice. Mitah was surprised by the anger in it,

  “…weren’t too stupid to train then maybe you would not have so many brain-damaged failures. If you think I’m going to sit back and watch you ruin a perfectly competent warrior then you are out of your mind!”

  Her statement met with silence. No one seemed to know what to say. Then his team leader laughed and sneering wrenched the bar free. Raising the bar for the next swing, he spoke to the tiny woman in front of Mitah, “Renshaws who cannot perform their basic task are failures. I am not the reason he is damaged! He was given to me that way. Now stand aside, he is mine to deal with.”

  Swinging the bar Mitah watched the woman brace for the impact. Stunned that she would defend a failure, Mitah reacted as rage bubbled inside. Not her. He would not allow anyone to hurt her. Before he even knew what he was doing he charged his team leader, taking the bar square through the gut. Reaching his target, he latched his hands around his team leader’s throat and squeezed. Locking his arms, Mitah growled, even as the man passed out.

  The unconscious man sank to the ground and Mitah followed; it was the soft touch of the fierce woman that disrupted his fury and stole the wind from his sails. Looking in her eyes, Mitah knew that she understood more than she was saying.

  Undone by her compassion, Mitah groaned in pain. With a huff, she turned to the shawling behind her. Even as he passed out, he could hear her giving orders to move him carefully and had continued to support him in whatever he wanted to learn. She had encouraged him to discover what he wanted to do and had fought to give him every opportunity. Two and a half years and not only did he become a pilot, but he had had the best scores of his class. Making the tiny human proud had given Mitah a deep sense of achievement. As long as she lived, Mitah swore he would serve her in whatever she needed.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Catching sight of hand signals from Alpha ordering a sweep of a nearby clearing, Mitah paused and let Max take the lead, Rennick took a position at the edge of the hill. Reaching the bottom he and Max made quick work of clearing the field. Moving together, they worked in tandem. they moved in a leap frog pattern with ease and gave great care for their surroundings; minimizing their noise index. Sweeping and clearing any unknowns that might pose a threat. Aside from the comical pose of a heritage creature (originates cellularly to the planet), there were little signs of life. Sure, that it was clear Mitah nodded to Max and they made their way back to the foot of the hill. Keeping his back to the hill Mitah watched for any changes, as Max gave the all-clear. Together they continued to monitor the open field as they waited for the rest of their team to join them.

  Rennick

  Rennick kept watch on the path behind him and waited for the team to reach the bottom of the hill. Alert to his surroundings he scanned the area monitoring for potential threats. The sound of leaves rustling just out of his range of vision caught his attention. Shifting to the right, Rennick let his scope search out the cause of the noise. An almost lazy ease swept his rifle from right to left. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye he shifted his position a second time, attempting to locate the cause. Unable to quickly locate the source of the movement Rennick switched lookout points so that his scope could monitor the team’s location and began scanning the area with his eyes. Seeing the underbrush move, Rennick turned on his radio. “Alpha there is movement six feet to the left of my position. I am going to check it out.”

  “Alpha confirms. Desohta rendezvous with Rennick just in case.”

  “Roger,” Rennick said.

  Standing still, Rennick waited for Desohta to join him. Moving at a gentle loop the wolf made quick work of climbing the hill. Silently, Desohta tapped Rennick on the shoulder, looking for the direction of the movement. Rennick motioned straight ahead. Nodding to Desohta, he pointed to the left and the right and then started left. Rennick barely heard Desohta move and worked to keep his steps just as light. Once they were on either side of the bush, Rennick shifted his rifle to his back and nodded once. Desohta readied his rifle as he got into position. Rennick reached for the leafy branches and what was hidden beneath. The moment the leaves were clear Desohta lunged and prepared for anything; neither expected to find a child hidden there. Squatting down Desohta shifted his gun to the side and stared.

  Rennick activated his comm. “Alpha, we located the source of the disturbance. It’s a child.”

  “Roger. Rennick, Desohta, rejoin the team.”

  “What about the boy?”

  “Is he hurt?” Micha questioned.

  “No, but he is a native.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Doubt he’s eaten in a while and there is evidence of beatings. All in all, the cub seems to be a survivor.” Desohta shrugged. “It can’t hurt to feed him in exchange for information.”

  “Fine. Ni’yell spotted a patrol coming this way. We’ve got thirty minutes before it’s on top of us.”

  “Roger!” responded Desohta and Rennick.

  Desohta opened his visor and held his hand out to the boy, “Come we need to leave now.”

  The boy did not attempt to reach out. Fear permeated the air and clung cloyingly to the young boy as he sought about for some means to escape. Noting the boy’s mounting fear. Desohta stood and motioned for Rennick to do the same. Dropping his hand he watched the boy. “We have no intention of hurting you, but we need to leave. I cannot promise the patrol will leave you be. The choice, however, is yours.”

  Stepping back Desohta pulled his rifle to the front and nodded to Rennick. Together they stepped away from the boy. As they moved to rejoin the group neither looked back as they heard the boy move to join them. Feeling a small hand grip a pocket on his right leg, Desohta looked at the boy and nodded. Closing the visor, Desohta motioned that he would take the lead. Unhooking the boy he started forward. Within moments the three of them caught up with the team. Nodding at Micha, Desohta shifted his pack to his front and lifted the boy to his back. Saying nothing, the team started forward.

  For the next four hours, the team moved without hesitation. Fanning out, each member of the team kept a close eye on his partner, while their visors monitored their surroundings. Micha held the lead, while Ni’yell scouted ahead. Spotting trouble, she made quick adjustments to the team’s location. As the patrols increase, the team was forced to slow down to avoid detection. Maintaining stealth, the team slipped behind one patrol while avoiding the other. The only sounds that could be heard were the natural footprint of the forest and the soft clicks from one team member to the next. Feedback from Ni’yell, as he scouted the path ahead, made it easier to slip past some patrols, while giving just enough time to get out of sight of others. Capable of communication through a network of sounds and hand signals they continued to maneuver silently through the oncoming patrols.

  Micha

  Reaching the first map marker, Micha hissed. Two patrols were covering the items they needed to collect. Wracking her brain to remember if there was anything vital and weighing the odds of taking out two patrols silently, Micha hissed again. It did not appear that the patrols had found the small box, or were aware that they were being watched, but experience had taught Micha the dangers of assumption. Lifting her hand, she gave the signal to pull back. If they were to succeed, she would need all of her boys able to fight. The locator beacon’s only value was in clarifying the landing zone, if they needed to change it; and the few maps of the target compound were not worth the risk of exposure if the patrols did not know they were there. Micha smiled ferally; if they were expecting her team to risk everything on some token items then they were in for a long wait.

  Re-examining the terrain, Micha located a water source and started towards it. With any luck, they would find some sort of temporary shelter. That would provide her with the time she needed to reassess their strategy. Feeling her team fall into their positions, Micha gave a couple of clicks and continued onward. Seeing the overhang that Ni’yell had marked on the team map Micha began to move along the brook. She spotted a clearing on the other side of the brook under the heavy branches of a mighty pine-like tree. Its heavy limbs covering a section of the brook and sheltering them from sight. She headed in. Another set of clicks on the headset and Micha halted. Slinging her rifle to her shoulder, Micha removed her helmet. Hearing the soft click-hiss of several helmets told her that her team was following suit. Coming into the clearing from a separate direction Ni’yell nodded and squatted.

  Desohta

  The next to last to enter the clearing, Desohta noted the relaxed pose of his team leader and reached for the locking mechanism of his helmet. Even as he removed his helmet, Micha turned to face him. Setting the boy down, Desohta reached for his pack and removed nine bars. Handing them out to his teammates, he reached Micha and handed her two of the bars. Saying nothing he turned and sat down. The boy stood quietly at the edge of the clearing. Micha could taste his fear, could see it in the way he stood ready to bolt.

  Angered that someone would be so cruel to a child, Micha hissed and watched the boy wince. Exhaling, she considered the boy. she worked to dismiss the anger; all it was good for was agitating the pot. Although he looked humanoid, she was uncertain what race he might be from. the too-long arms, the oil slick in his eyes were alien to her. Opening one of the bars, she watched the boy as she took a bite. Noting the way he followed the open bar only served to increase her frustration. Yet even though he licked his lips he never asked. Swallowing, she offered the unopened bar.

  “We are looking for someone. We were told that he is hiding around here, but we have no way to look for him.” Stepping forward Micha continued. “It is our job to stop him before he hurts anyone. Can you help us find him?”

  The boy never took his eyes from the bar. The moment it was in reach he snatched it from her and dashed behind Desohta. Once behind him, he tore into the bar like a starving beast. Micha watched the boy. Not moving she waited. When the boy finished, he came around and sat beside Desohta. Tucking his knees to his chest, he seemed to struggle internally. The tug-of-war enacted on his expressive face. Slowly he came to a decision and nodded. Lifting the remains of the tattered shirt, the boy showed the marks, scabs, and scars that had been etched into his chest. The story of abuse would never be wiped out or expungable, the tale would follow him always. Recognizing the symbol of their target Micha squatted down.

  “That is quite the mark. How'd you get that?”

  The boy groaned, rubbing his throat agitatedly. His distress causing her heart to ache. Looking to Desohta, Micha lifted an eyebrow.

  Desohta shrugged. “It is possible Alpha that the boy cannot speak. Either he never learned or he has suffered damage to the throat making it impossible. Without a scanner it’s hard to know for sure. He is showing he at least understands...”

  Micha sighed. Removing the wrapper from the last of the bar she took another bite. Turning to Ni’yell she swallowed, “Did you find out anything useful?”

  “There is a compound north of here. It appears to be heavily guarded, if he is in there, we do not have the tools to get in.”

  Fear riding him the boy stood and trembled hesitantly, all but crawling into Desohta’s mobile suit and tapped him on the shoulder. Chewing his lower lip, he ducked down, his back to Desohta, mimicked sneaking past sentries; then nodded. He looked at Micha with a half-hearted watery smile. Tapping his chest with his thumb, he bobbed his head once more.

  Resisting the urge to smile at the boy, Micha asked. “So, you know how to get in?”

  The boy bobbed his head and touched where the scar was on his chest.

  Once again Micha looked at Ni’yell “Go with the boy and see if his route is plausible?”

  Ni’yell stood and began moving towards the compound. At the edge of the clearing, he waited for the boy. When Desohta did not move the child froze. Hesitating, the boy looked at Desohta. Desohta shrugged, “It is your choice.”

  Stepping towards Ni’yell, the boy started out of the clearing. Tapping the boy’s shoulder Ni’yell motioned lifting him. Securing the boy on his back he waited for directions. Within seconds they were out of sight. Micha moved to where Ni’yell had been sitting and finished her bar. “Ipino, work up a couple of possible scenarios. Holten, what are the chances of getting a signal out?”

  “There has not been any evidence of high tech communication, which is not to say they have none. As long as it is kept short it should be alright.”

  “Then compose a message and send it. Let command know what we have so far.” setting her helmet in place next to her as she sat, back to the wide trunk. Micha continued, “Rennick you have first watch. Wake me when we either get a response from command or Ni’yell and the boy return.”