SUPERIOR TECHNOLOGY ALLOWS the Dragon to transport objects without the use of both a sending and a receiving platform. A distinct advantage lost when the extra bright white light flashes during molecule reassembly. An active transport announces Ki-Ton’s arrival inside the dilapidated remains of a once-great theatrical auditorium.
Crunched seats and shattered beams decorate the once-majestic building. Faded murals, of humanoids performing famous works of their culture, peel from one wall. The stink of rot and refuge hangs in the air. His boot kicks past a pile of trash. Every scavenging bug scampers away from him.
He takes the scanning device from his belt. It should detect life forms and transmit the information back to the Dragon for the crew to interpret. He needs none of their help, nor does he need such a device to detect his prey. Illusion of a need keeps the crew guessing about him. The technology could detect possible chemical traps even his olfactory system’s unable to sense. Many humanoids have such devices to compensate for their physical limitation. Osirians seem to utilize them the most.
He sniffs the air soaking in the rot. Even escaping insects trail fragrances, none of which are the aroma he searches for. Time won’t erase scents from his memory. He knows it. It’s like his own perfume. It hints in the air. What he seeks has been here. He kicks up trash and more smells with each step, but never loses the whiff of what he came for. It hangs in the air.
It gets stronger—fresher.
Strange?
The smell, familiar as himself, is not as it should be—tainted.
“I smell you.” Echoes from everywhere at once in the theater. The acoustical design of the building has lost no efficiency despite the decrepitude of the structure.
Even with his superior hearing Ki-Ton’s unsure where the voice originated from. Logically, he steps toward the stage where it would be effective to remain concealed.
“I almost forgot how we reeked,” it calls out from the shadows.
Ki-Ton triangulates where the voice originated. “You don’t smell as I remember.” Or as you should. Ki-Ton crunches burnt lumber under his step. He lowers the useless scanner. “Why don’t you smell right?”
This brings an unnerving quiet to the chamber. Ki-Ton hears the clicking of tiny insects fleeing his presence. The absent breath of his prey keeps him on edge.
“You’re not experiencing degradation?”
“I know your DNA matches only thirty-five percent of mine,” Ki-Ton answers.
“That much? I didn’t know I had so much of me left.”
Ki-Ton knows the voice hides in the dark backstage behind the shredded curtains. “Enough! Tell me.”
“You’re as demanding as the royals, subjecting us to exile.”
“We both failed to follow their commands,” Ki-Ton notes.
“I wouldn’t return to release them even if I knew where they were.”
Ki-Ton swivels on his heel, marching up the auditorium to the exit.
“Just going to leave? Wait. It’s been thousands of years. I’ve never encountered another. Don’t leave.” The pleading voice draws closer from the darkness.
“I came only for the location of our home world.”
“Never. Never should they be released,” the voice booms.
Tearing through the tattered curtains leaps a manticore of a creature with tiger legs and bat wings. Claws sink into Ki-Ton as they crash through rows of broken chairs. Ki-Ton grabs the jaw snapping at his face. His biceps bulge as he twists the mandible away from him, punching the bear snout until a goop flows from it. The strange beast recoils as more blood spurts from its nose. Ki-Ton drags it into better light and notes the beast’s chimeric form. It has some of the best adaptive features of a dozen species.
The creature recoils once more to pounce, sending Ki-Ton plummeting over five rows of chairs.
It leaps.
Ki-Ton bats the beast away with backhand movements of his now Icto frost bear arms. The white hairy arms are three times the size of his body, but he swings them as easy as a bat. The paws of the frost bear have no gripping power. Ki-Ton metamorphoses his arms back into that of a humanoid and grips the larger incisor of the chimera. He twists and pulls down at the tooth until it wrenches free.
Still dazed from the backhand impact, the creature howls. It gathers enough strength to push at Ki-Ton, but weakens.
Ki-Ton drills the tooth into the soft tissues of the chimera’s throat. “How long have you been awake?”
“Sulmartin slave traders found the capsule.”
Ki-Ton slams the giant incisor into the palm of the creature’s hand, securing it to the floor. The claws retract into the seven fingers. He pins the other hand with his boot heel. Ki-Ton flips open the corner of his scanner and rips out an electronic component before he holds the device over the chimera.
“The Sulmartin domain existed some six hundred thousand years ago in a small cluster of planets near the third hydra constellation.”
“The historical location.”
Ki-Ton transforms his right hand into that of a quilled creature and backhands the chimera. The barbed quills impale the creature, cutting deep into its face. It wails in pain, unable to resist.
“Were you found in the third hydra constellation?”
“I can’t…let you…revive them.”
Ki-Ton’s punch leaves a dozen more quills in the chimera’s chest. The hooked points inject a nerve agent designed to discourage predators. “How long since you could shift?”
The scanner beeps. Ki-Ton smashes it into the ground after reading the screen. He brushes his needled hand over the multi-lensed insect eye of the chimera. “I damaged your eye. You’ve transformed yourself into this abomination, and now you’re stuck unable to create a new one.”
“I attempted my last transmogrification to merge the most effective qualities of many species.”
Ki-Ton laughs. “But such freakish abominations of nature are unwelcome in society. You should have accepted the limitations a more humanoid form would give you.”
“I had three DNA cards implanted. None of them move to the surface of my skin any longer to allow me to escape this planet.”
“Explains why I was able to find a
