“Impressive enough,” Frost conceded.
“He also has the strength of the three of you combined. He can rip the arms and legs from a man as if he were a papier-mâché doll.”
“Does he speak?” Seven asked as he eyeballed the hulking behemoth.
“He has a rudimentary vocabulary. Similar to … eh, Tarzan.” Grant gave a wink. “He wasn’t created to converse. He communicates when there is a need.”
“Too bad women can’t be more like that,” Frost guffawed, and the two other humans joined in. Even Grant seemed to grasp the chauvinistic humor, smiling in collaboration, but that was daunting, as well, as it revealed some very nasty-looking canines, oversized and razor-sharp.
After the trio had a good laugh, Frost turned his attention back to Grant. “Well, your friend has an impressive array of talents. What do you bring to the table?”
“I’m proficient in all weapons, from small-arms to missile systems, even extra-orbital and ship-based tactical nukes. I am an expert in explosives, including C-9 and IED’s. I can speak English, Russian, French, Italian, Hebrew and Mandarin Chinese plus three other popular dialects.”
“Damn! Not bad, Akela,” Frost couldn’t resist.
“Ahhh, good one!” The AnthroSplice wagged a finger at Frost, realizing he’d just been gigged good-naturedly. Again, a sense of humor. Frost saw uses for Sherman the monster, but Grant … even though he hated to admit it, he kinda liked his rakish ass.
“I might add,” he continued, “I am also a qualified pilot. Not only atmospheric but orbital and deep space as well.”
Frost shook his head in disbelief, “Is there anything you don’t do?”
“I don’t fetch sticks, nor do I howl at the moon.” A wicked grin crossed his face. “Now I can’t speak for Sherman he—”
The humongous beast grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and cut him off abruptly. The humans watched with a mix of awe and slight fear, as Sherman lifted the smaller Grant a human would’ve picked up a puppy. He turned his captive to face him and brought him in close.
“No fetch!” When Sherman spoke, his voice was deep and low. It let you know immediately you were messing with something dangerous. Something deadly. When his cavernous mouth opened, his fangs looked even more menacing. Seven cringed at the thought of them sinking into flesh. He reckoned the power of the jaws themselves would be immense, able to break an adult human femur in two like a twig or crush a person’s skull like an egg.
“A joke!” Grant was laughing, although there was a palpable nervousness in it. “I know you don’t fetch.”
Sherman snarled a low guttural growl. “Not … FUNNY!”
“Funny or not, I’m now your commanding officer,” Frost spoke sharply. “You will put your fellow soldier down.” Sherman turned to look at him with eyes dark and stormy. Yet, he made no move.
Frost had already formed a theory and now decided to take this opportunity to determine its validity. If he was wrong, it might be the last theory he ever formulated. In his mind, Sherman had been a creature created to serve, to be sent into battle, to kill on command. He would always need a leader, someone to think, do the planning, the strategizing. To Frost, he was a weapon to be utilized, same as a rifle or a pistol. Nothing more. However, he was a weapon that he also sensed, if not handled properly, could kill everyone in the room in the vilest way.
Still, he had committed. To balk now could have lethal consequences. He kept his voice firm, “Drop him, soldier!”
Sherman looked at Frost for another second or two, then at Grant. Without a word, he obeyed, dropping Grant to the floor. The smaller splice fell like a sack of potatoes.
“Yes, sir!” Sherman looked to Frost, awaiting his next command.
“Excellent!” Forrest was well-pleased … and quite relieved. “Three, get that beast kitted out.” He looked at Grant. “You … I wanna see you at the AC in five! Seven … you too!”
“Uhhhh, I don’t think we have anything to fit the big guy, Boss.” Three was looking like he’d been asked to fit a sequoia into an outhouse.
“No worries,” Grant spoke up as he stood, still visibly shaken, but otherwise OK. “We brought what we need.”
“Very well, that solves one problem,” Frost smiled at Three. “Now, all you gotta do is round him up some chow.” He winked. “I’m sure he’s got a helluva appetite.”
“Yeah, but for what?” Three started to go pale as that thought took root.
Frost enjoyed his man’s discomfort more than he should have. Still, he did not envy him the task he’d just assigned him. “Get the rest of the team out here! Let’s see to those supplies they brought with them.” He turned to Seven. “You and Balto here. I gotta little job for you two.
***
Completely unaware of the events swirling around her and the scheming and planning that affected her very being, the vixen Amber blissfully played with Lulah’s daughter, Britt. It was as if she hadn’t a care in the world, as if the events of yesterday had never happened. She seemed unconcerned that hired killers were desperately trying to find her, or that Tiger was frantically trying to find a way to get her off-planet to the safety of the remote reaches of space. Right now, her only concern was playing “house” with Britt, who was, at this moment, giving her a lesson in diaper-changing.
“And you just pull it up and over her nay-nay like that and then pull this side over and tape it and then you pull the other side over and tape it … just like that … see? Gotta make sure the top goes under the bottom … if you don’t, the tape will stick to her skin, and
