Chapter 6 Holly
HOLLY
Snyder tipped his head toward the large view screen. “We have an interesting array of dyni for you to choose from on this ship.”
Video snapshots popped up on the screen, three squares to a row, five rows total. Most of the videos were so dark I couldn’t really see anything but vague dark shadows. Slithers of movement. A flash of red—like Kroktl’s eyes. Orange. White. Teeth. Lots of teeth.
I tightened my grip on my crossed arms, hugging myself. Resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and throw my arms over my head. What the fuck are you doing? Are you nuts? There’s no way you’re going to be able to “tame” any of these creatures long enough to escape.
“Does DSC know you have so many?”
His lips quirked, one eyebrow arching with a smug, confident very human look. “As far as DSC’s concerned, these dyni were terminated. They were deemed experimental failures and were never officially put into service. I intercepted them one by one and brought them here for further testing.”
“What does that mean, exactly? Were they unable to form squads? Did they have health issues…?”
He shook his head. “Dyni genetics are impervious to just about everything. They’re all perfectly healthy.
In fact, I’d argue they’re too healthy for DSC use because they’re too difficult to control.
Our scientists have been pushing the boundaries of what’s possible.
Giving our dyni formidable strength and power.
Bigger teeth, more technology, more vicious instincts.
However, there’s a delicate balance that must be maintained.
The most vicious, terrifying killer does HQ no good if they can’t control him enough to send him on a mission.
If he kills his own squad. If he refuses to follow the simplest directions.
Each of these dyni have some kind of behavioral issue that made them undesirable for deployment. ”
“So they don’t already have a squad formed?”
“Not at all. You’ll be the one to decide which ones to attempt to bring together. Or one. In the end, it doesn’t matter to me whether you have a full squad or just one mate, as long as you’re successful. Traditionally, dyni squads are five members but there’s no requirement each slot be filled.”
He said it so casually. One mate. As long as you’re successful.
Because he wanted to start his own breeding program.
My stomach heaved but I fought to keep my face smooth. I focused on the view screen, looking for details that might give a clue where to begin. One dynos to start. One who wouldn’t eat me as soon as he saw me.
Gulp. Choose wisely.
Step one: don’t get eaten.
Step two: don’t get mauled—and then eaten.
Step three: convince a vicious killer to follow my lead when he couldn’t be controlled by the most powerful syndicate in the galaxy that created him.
Step four: fall madly in love and earn his trust and devotion.
Step five: escape.
Piece of cake, right?
“I don’t know where to start,” I whispered.
A low chime sounded, drawing Snyder over to the wall. He opened a panel and brought back a small tray covered with a cloche. As he walked back, a table pushed up out of the floor in front of me, forming a desk beneath the view screen.
“First, you eat. We need you strong and healthy, Miss Price. While you dine, you can swipe through the videos and watch each of them. Read the reports. I’ve made all of their previous tests and statistics available to you.
If anything’s been redacted, it was done by HQ before they were tagged for decommissioning.
Of course if you have any questions, I am at your disposal.
Simply say my name and I’ll return at once. ”
Then he disappeared.
Alone in a strange alien laboratory with fifteen caged killer monsters. Waiting for their chance to eat me and make their escape.
I just needed to convince them to trust me—enough to take me with them.
I removed the cloche and found a beautiful presentation of colorful vegetables, a steaming baked potato with butter and sour cream, and a thick, perfectly grilled steak.
All seemingly fresh from a world-class restaurant.
Was there a cook on board? Or did they simply teleport a plate into existence? Did it taste like real food?
I picked up the fork and knife, honestly surprised utensils were provided to me at all.
Even if I didn’t attack Snyder’s construct with the knife, I could end my own life before they could experiment on me.
I could find a way to jam the blade into a key system and cause a malfunction that might ultimately destroy the ship.
The casualness of providing me such weapons told another tale.
Most likely none of these actions would be successful.
Even if I managed to harm myself, this was a DSC ship.
They had technology far beyond my human understanding.
They could probably resurrect me from the grave without any repercussions.
Or more likely, allow me to die and simply harvest all my eggs and start cloning human-dynos hybrids in this laboratory.
Honestly, I didn’t know why DSC hadn’t already attempted such a thing.
Unless they had—were—and it’d been unsuccessful. Supposedly humans weren’t compatible with dyni at all.
Until Natalie. Her mrion fragments had made it possible.
Snyder didn’t need me alive. If I failed to cooperate, he’d simply harvest my eggs and mrions and start his own experiments.
If I wanted to stay alive, I had to cooperate. Put together my own damned squad. And then find a way to escape.
The food was easily some of the best I’ve ever eaten. They’d given me another cup of coffee, too, along with a glass bottle of sparkling water. The coffee was hot, despite me not touching it for several minutes while I ate. The water remained ice cold—without any ice to melt in the bottle.
More subtle reminders of my adversary’s advanced technology.
I pushed the tray to the side and focused on the fifteen dyni. Randomly, I touched one of the video thumbnails, and it immediately expanded into a detailed file complete with pictures, videos, and analyses.
Designation: NSTG-A. Net Stegosaurus Araneae.
One of the dynos that attacked the space whales had been NSTG, basically a giant stegosaurus that could shoot nets from its scorpion tail. Araneae… was that a spider?
I flipped through the file until I found a picture. Yep. He had eight legs and instead of a curling scorpion tail, he had spider spinnerets.
Quick swipe to the left on that one. Sorry dude. I didn’t even read what concerns DSC had with him. I don’t do spiders.
The next dynos’ designation was HITMS. Hydra Incendiary Taser Magnetic Sauropod.
That was a fucking mouthful. The picture showed one of the long-necked telescoping dinosaurs, but it had two long necks and heads.
One shot flames and the other blasted electromagnetic pulses meant to knock out a Comms designation.
They’d tried to diversify the types of attacks he could accomplish by giving him the second head, but the result was a split personality disorder when he was shifted out of his beast.
Both personalities were unstable, violent, and apparently despised each other. The two halves refused to blend and fought each other for supremacy, which made him unreliable for squad duty.
I swiped through the files, making only a cursory scan to see if any one particular dynos jumped out at me.
All of them were strange blends of dinosaurs and creatures.
Beetle-like wings rather than pterodactyl ones like Rizan’s.
Armored crab-like legs. They’d even tried blending dynos with KORE DNA.
If I’d understood a fraction of what Lohr said about the KORE, that was annihilation waiting to happen.
Overwhelmed, I sat back in the chair with the cup of coffee.
I took a tentative sip and found it perfectly brewed with just enough cream and the ideal temperature.
Not surprised, exactly, but shaken. How did Snyder know how I liked to drink my coffee?
Had they read my brain somehow? Dumped my memories into a computer?
The smug, arrogant professor would never have paid attention to his female students’ beverage preferences.
Chills raced down my arms despite the warmth of the cup. If they could mine my mind and preferences…
How could I possibly find a way to escape? For all I knew, they were reading my mind now. Capturing my incriminating thoughts in a log somewhere. If I made a plan, they’d simply shut it down at step one.
My lips trembled as I took another sip, almost dribbling coffee down the pristine front of my shirt.
Get a grip. They can’t know everything.
Even if they do…
I’ve got Natalie’s gift to help me.
How did I use the mrions, though, if I wasn’t even physically aware of them? I wished I could ask her for help.
:How do I make this work?: I whispered inside my own head. :What do I do?:
Zings and tiny pulses of… something… flared in my head. I closed my eyes, and I could see delicate streams of colored light behind my eyelids. Tiny glowing orbs. Almost like the pulse of a neon sign.
Maybe it was my imagination, lingering shock, wishful thinking, placebo effect. I didn’t care. I leaned into it. If having full-on conversations with myself made me crazy, then sign me the fuck up. As long as it worked.
:Help me come up with an escape plan and keep it secret.:
The darkness of my mind continued to flare with light and energy in waves that made me feel like I was gliding down a tunnel.
Only it wasn’t circular or even any defined shape.
The streams pulled me forward, down, somewhere inside my own mind.
The lights darkened to indigo and violet.
Deep hues of midnight wrapped around me like velvety darkness.
A secret place inside my own mind. A safe haven where DSC couldn’t track my thoughts.
:Natalie?: I whispered silently. :Can you hear me?:
A faint crackle buzzed in the darkness. Not yet, it seemed to say. But soon. Keep trying.
I breathed deeply, my eyes prickling with tears. Just that promise of connection gave me hope. I can do this. I can find a way.
Deep indigo flared around me in a burning ring. Not words—but a very clear message.
If I wanted to escape this prison laboratory ship somewhere in space…
I needed a pilot.
Opening my eyes, I leaned forward. “Is this thing voice activated?”
“I can answer your questions, execute computing tasks, and display whatever information you would like on the screen,” the same female voice from earlier said.
“Great. Show me the dyni held on this ship who can jump space.”
All of the thumbnails disappeared except for one. “There is only one pilot available at this time.”
That made my selection easy, at least. “What’s his designation?”
“BGR++.”
His file expanded, displaying an image of a Giganotosaurus Rex. Big, yeah, but pretty much like Axxol as far as I could tell. “How is he different from a BGR+?”
Another T-rex popped on the screen, its head barely coming up to the other dinosaur’s shoulder.
“Overall mass increased by twenty-five percent compared to the previous generation of BGR+. Skull size increased twenty percent for more brain power, reinforced to withstand increased bite force roughly double the standard BGR+.”
“Damn,” I breathed out, shaking my head. “How did you give him a higher bite force?”
“His jawbone, teeth, and jaw musculature were inspired by the megalodon.”
A bigger, badder T-rex than Axxol, who claimed he was so dangerous they quit making his designation entirely. Evidently not.
“His pilot skills have never been successfully tested, but he was engineered to use the lowest frequencies possible to minimize visible light trails of his jumps.”
Ah. The very thing that gave away our location as soon as we moved to Lake Atitlán. “Why was his pilot skills never tested?”
“The probability of escape risk was too high.”
Meaning they couldn’t control him. They couldn’t ensure he wouldn’t simply disappear with their precious Sirian cells and all the new technology the stuffed inside his bigger brain. Which was good for my plan…
As long as he didn’t kill me first.