Down out of the terrible past, a black river of that
monstruous blood flows in the veins of Homo Sapiens.
We aren’t all human… and that alien inheritance haunts our
unconscious minds with the dark conflicts and intolerable urges that Freud
discovered and tried to explain. And now that evil blood is in rebellion.
[…] Homo Lycantropus is about to win that old,
hideous war of the species, after all!
(Jack Williamson, Darker Than You Think, 1944-2014, SF Gateway, Google Play Edition)
Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750
June 23rd, 666 GE
It was still raining when Kyle and the synth stepped out of the 24-hour laundromat.
Kyle had sacrificed half an hour of precious time—and a dozen credits—for the luxury of being clean. But a good first impression might make all the difference. Nizaam Taash ran one of the best cybernetic shops in town. He didn’t usually ask many questions, but scruffy customers always made him suspicious.
A robocab descended from the fog, hissing steam as it touched down on the rain-slick street. Kyle motioned for the girl to get in, then followed her. The cab lifted off with a soft jolt, disappearing into the glittering maze of city lights.
Outside, the nightscape had a spectral glow. The business center and the spaceport gleamed like miniature galaxies. Pockets of illumination marked the less-decrepit residential zones, while the slums sat in near-total darkness—punctuated only by the occasional flickering streetlamp. A sudden gust of wind slammed a curtain of rain against the windows.
Kyle’s jaw clenched.
If the weather didn’t clear up soon, the spaceport would be shut down and all takeoff permissions revoked. That meant missing his meeting with Aral Mohs—at the very least.
Worse, the longer he lingered on Dabih Major, the greater the risk of being traced. He’d bought some time by logging the Aranui under a false ID, but the message from Aral Mohs was a problem. It was only a matter of time before someone decrypted it.
The synth hadn’t spoken since they left. She just stared out the window.
Then, quietly:
“Are you sure this guy won’t sell me to someone like Nagatomo?”
“Relax. I’ll tell Taash to find you a decent job.”
In truth, Kyle wasn’t sure of anything. If he got very lucky, he might be able to trade her for a used generator — maybe. But deep down, he doubted even that.
At the laundromat, when the servodroid came to collect their clothes, he’d caught a glimpse of her undressed.
Dressed, she looked like a young adult. Naked, she looked like a child: small breasts, narrow hips, thin limbs. She probably didn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds.
Who’d pay for a synthetic kid?
Not the usual buyers. The Imperial Police and Space Forces typically used synths for assignments that were too dangerous for humans and too complex for droids. Others used them for illegal work: cyberfight circuits, backroom hacks, or brothels—especially those that catered to darker tastes.
Just like Nagatomo had.
Droids were often better suited anyway—cheaper to maintain, didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t complain. Most importantly, they didn’t carry the messy burden of emotions like synths did.
“Why don’t you keep me yourself?” Shirl asked softly.
“Me? What for? You can’t pilot. You don’t know the first thing about football—do you? Yeah, I thought so. I bet you’ve never played kryple either. Besides… you’re just a kid. You’re not even good for—”
“I’m not a kid! I’m almost twenty-one!”
“Oh yeah? And how the hell would you know that?”
She rummaged through her clothes and pulled out a small metal tag.
“Here. It says my name is Shirl. I was generated four months ago, with a biological age of 20.3 standard years.”
Kyle took the tag and examined it. An alphanumeric serial number. And the acronym: S.H.I.R.L.
“Well,” he muttered, “doesn’t change anything. I still have to sell you. I need the money. If I don’t get off this rock soon, I’m screwed. Understand?”
She said nothing, just turned to the window and stared at the rain.
A soft chime broke the silence. The fare meter lit up.
They were getting close.
Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240
June 23rd 666 GE
The sun was brushing the tops of the tallest mushrooms when Twiglet reached the river’s bight.
Despite the anxiety of the previous evening, she’d slept peacefully. At sunrise, she awoke to find Uful’lan gone—likely off in search of food. With the pantry empty, she’d made do with breakfast on the road: annelids from beneath a rock—nicely wriggly, and surprisingly tasty.
She knelt on the grassy bank and called out:
“Peg! Hey, Peg! Are you in?”
The forest trembled.
The river began to stir, then churned in mounting agitation. Twiglet watched as the water frothed violently at a single point. A fine mist sprayed into the morning air, and a low, eerie moaning came from its depths — like the distant wails of trapped souls.
Twiglet unrolled her tongue in exasperation.
Why does she always have to be so dramatic?
A deep rumble resonated from the earth’s core amid the ghostly cries. The river parted near the shore, and from its dark waters emerged a greenish humanoid figure, waist-deep and dripping. Her long, wet hair clung to her body in snaky strands. Sharp teeth gleamed as she fixed Twiglet angrily, bony hands planted on her hips.
“Twiglet! Do you know what time it is? In case you forgot, mornings are for sleeping!”
“Hello, Peg!” Twiglet said brightly. “Sorry to wake you, but this is important.”
Peg scowled.
“If you came about that freeloader—what’s his name—Uful’lan, you’re wasting your breath.”
“No, Peg, not this time.” Twiglet smirked, despite herself. “This isn’t about Uful’lan… not exactly. Something strange happened yesterday. He found a disabled trap. As far as I know, that never happens by accident.”
Peg’s eyes narrowed, her scowl deepening.
“No one can disable those traps without the passwords. And I keep mine to myself. Always. Are you sure Uful’lan didn’t trade them for a snack?”
Twiglet considered this.
“Is that the only possible explanation? Because, honestly, I think Uful’lan is innocent this time.”
Peg’s expression darkened further.
“Then it would take a huge amount of power. But who…?”
“Someone has it, Peg.” Twiglet leaned in. “A race of shapeshifters. Humans call them “werewolves.” They’re dangerous—fiery, deceptive beasts. They can change form, and maybe even more than that. Oh, Peg… it’s a long story. But I think a couple of them may be after me.”
Peg raised one thin, skeletal arm and traced arcane symbols across the river’s surface.
“Calm down. No sense panicking before we’re sure.”
She began to chant in a guttural, icy tongue—harsh as the void between stars. A small section of the river stopped flowing and turned a dull, metallic gray. Despite the sun’s warmth, the scales on the back of Twiglet’s neck prickled.
“Let’s see,” Peg said darkly, “who’s been playing with Zero Point Energy.“
Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750
June 23rd 666 GE
Nizaam Taash’s store was all glass and gleam, its broad windows showcasing a dizzying collection of synthetic beings—droids ranging from clunky waiters to fully armed soldiers, cyborgs, and synths, both human and alien in form. Most stood dormant, suspended in life-preservation mode.
Taash, a rakrir from Xantil II, usually met suppliers in his lab just behind the showroom.
“Strange,” he muttered, scratching one of his ear-flaps. “She should have a serial number… somewhere… back of the head…”
“Far as I know, she’s had a string of owners, lately,” Kyle cut in. “Maybe one of them wiped it.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Taash agreed, eyeing the girl strapped to a plastiglass stretcher. Shirl looked terrified.
He grabbed a cable from the console and swiftly plugged it into the socket at the base of her skull.
“Don’t be scared, honey,” he murmured, tapping at the console. “This won’t hurt.”
A pause. Clicks. A few beeps.
Then:
“Aha! Just as I thought!” he exclaimed, blinking his one eye. “She’s not a 9000!”
He grabbed Kyle’s arm and pointed at the holo-screen.
“See this? These neural patterns? Nothing like the 9000 series. And here—these convolutions?” He tapped an icon. Several brain sectors lit up red. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”
Kyle sighed. He didn’t know a damn thing about synthetic brain architecture. What he did know was that this was looking like a bust—no easy cash today.
“What about the dog tag she’s wearing?” he asked, grasping at straws.
Taash inspected it with a couple of peduncles.
“Looks like a vanity tag. Brand mark, maybe. Biological inception age… Useless.” He tossed it aside without ceremony.
“Listen,” Kyle tried again, “I get that the brain’s not impressive, but the body’s barely four months old and in good shape. Maybe you could graft in some cheap memories, sell her as a waitress?”
But Taash raised both proboscis in protest.
“Who said the brain isn’t impressive? It’s strange, but it’s also the most sophisticated I’ve ever scanned. This unit’s probably a prototype. No serial number, advanced neural mapping… look at this!” He zoomed in on several brain regions. “Incredible…”
Kyle’s hope flared.
“Right. Well, uh… I’m on a tight schedule. How about we strike a deal? You get a fascinating brain to play with, I get going with my new generator.”
“Deal? Hmm. Sure. Ten thousand. That work for you?”
“Ten thou—? You mean… that’s okay?” Kyle blinked, nearly choking on the number. He struggled to keep cool. No need to let the guy realize he’d just offered ten times the going rate. “Well, considering the, uh… sentimental value… Tell you what: ten thousand and the hyperstring generator we talked about?”
“Of course.”
“Done!” Kyle grinned, barely restraining the urge to dance around the lab.
Taash exited to finalize the trade.
Kyle turned to Shirl, giddy.
“Ten thousand! Can you believe it? Not only do I get a new generator—I’ll be flush for months!”
“Lucky you,” Shirl said dryly from the stretcher.
“Hey, you’ll be fine. He’s clearly fascinated by your brain. He’s not gonna hand you off to some low-level sleaze.”
“I’m not so sure.”
Before Kyle could respond, Taash returned, holding a sleek metal case in one hand and a chip between two tentacles.
“Here you go: a hyperstring generator compatible with Avery-Frost ACM 118 engines, and a ten-thousand-credit chip. Check it over.”
Kyle scanned the chip, glanced at the generator specs, and nodded.
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I needed. Thanks.”
He shook hands—or the rakrir equivalent—with the storekeeper.
“A pleasure doing business. Let’s hope it’s not the last.”
“Likewise,” Taash replied.
Kyle turned, stepped into the storm, and vanished into the night.
Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240
June 24th 666 GE
An image began to form—blurry at first, then gradually sharpening. Shapes emerged: the familiar silhouettes of fungoid vegetation, ever-present and thickly carpeting the moon’s surface.
Peg murmured something under her breath. The viewing field widened, revealing a stretch of water in the lower left corner.
“They should be here… but I can’t see them…”
Twiglet squinted. The landscape looked familiar. The perspective panned left, and then a peculiar structure came into view, rising in the center of the image.
“Hey, that’s my house!” she gasped.
A split second later, a blinding sphere of blue light crashed down from above, striking the living structure. The house erupted into flames.
“No!” Twiglet cried, anguished.
She watched in horror as the fire spread rapidly, consuming her home in moments. Still stunned by grief, she staggered to her feet and turned to run.
But a green, clawed hand clamped around her ankle.
“Let me go, Peg!” she sobbed. “That’s my home… I have to do something!”
“Nonsense, you’ll only get yourself killed,” Peg said firmly. “I’ve never seen such raw power. If you are their target, burning your house is just the beginning. You must leave, Twiglet. Leave Bageechaa—while you still can.”
“Leave? But… it’s not that simple,” Twiglet stammered. “I don’t even know where to go… and I have no money!”
Peg said nothing. She spun, dove headfirst into the murky waters, and resurfaced moments later holding an object—a large, polished emerald that shimmered even in the dim light.
“Here. This should be enough to get you off-world… and keep you going. For a while.”
“Peg, no! That’s too much. I can’t accept—”
“Don’t fuss about a trinket,” Peg interrupted. “I’ve been saving it for centuries to visit New Xanadu, but… I’m too old now. So—are you leaving or not?”
“Thank you, Peg,” Twiglet whispered, her voice heavy with emotion.
The creature gave a slight nod. Then, as she slowly sank back into the river, the waters began to churn again. The screams and moans rose to a chilling crescendo before fading into a final hiss.
A moment later, the current stilled. The surface smoothed over.
Twiglet was alone.
Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750
June 23rd 666 GE
Nizam Taash gleefully shook his ears, the many earrings jangling merrily—amplifying his delight.
Ten thousand credits! The deal of the century.
Only ten thousand for what was likely a prototype of the legendary Omega series—the elusive, much-hyped line of synthetic brains that had been announced time and again but never officially released.
If this really was an early Omega unit, it could fetch millions on the black market—assuming he could find the right buyer. How such a treasure had ended up in the hands of a clueless freighter pilot was beyond him. What a fool.
A top-tier brain… for ten thousand miserable credits.
Reverently, Taash opened a cupboard and removed a vial of yellowish fluid and a syringe. He filled the syringe slowly, savoring the moment like a sacred ritual. Then he turned to the synth, who still lay on the stretcher, eyes wide with fear.
“And now, my dear,” he purred, “we’ll see what your lovely brain is made of.”
“What are you doing?” Shirl asked, her voice trembling.
“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” he murmured, coiling a tentacle around her left arm. “This won’t hurt a bit. If you’d just calm down… I need to find a proper vein.”
Just then, a piercing alarm blared through the lab—beep… beep… beep—while an angry red light blinked to life on a holoscreen. Taash cursed, setting the syringe aside and checking the console.
“We’re closed tonight! Come back tomorrow!” he bellowed toward the front.
Still grumbling in Rakrir, he unwrapped the tentacle from Shirl’s arm, leaving behind a trail of tiny blisters. Then he stormed out of the lab.
She didn’t hesitate.
Still linked to the console through a cortical plug, she projected her consciousness into the local cybernet. First, she killed the subroutine keeping her bound to the stretcher—four encrypted locks released with ease. Then, at near-light speed, she scanned the store’s schematics: a route through the warehouse led to a back door, unguarded and unsecured.
Next, she hacked into the spaceport database to locate the Aranui’s docking gate. No ship by that name. Not on record.
She switched to personnel files. Nothing. No Kyle Tokalau listed—no captain, no crew, no one.
Had Kyle lied to her?
She hesitated, then shook off the doubt. Instinct said he hadn’t.
Instead, she cross-referenced the credit chip Taash had given Kyle with the records of the local taxi company. Bingo. The last transaction traced the passenger to gate 44NAbis.
From start to finish, her dive into cyberspace had lasted only seven seconds.
Back in the lab, she disconnected and slipped off the stretcher. She crept into the storage room, weaving between crates and dusty shelves, guided by a narrow shaft of light. At the rear, she found the emergency exit—simple push-bar release. As she crossed the threshold, a shrill, inhuman scream tore through the building.
She froze.
The scream echoed again, unmistakable this time. It was Nizam Taash.
Without looking back, she ran.
The storm hit her like a wall—wind howling, rain lashing down in sheets—but she hardly noticed. She ran fast, low, shoulders hunched against the gale. The streets were nearly empty, but she avoided dark corners and shadowed alleys, steering clear of places where danger could hide.
Then, behind her, the night exploded.
A thunderous boom shattered the air, followed by columns of blue flame shooting skyward from the direction of Taash’s store.
Shirl stopped just long enough to catch her breath, bracing herself against a wall.
Then she ran again.
Please return to the novel’s main page to read the first two chapters for free!
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